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Subject: The Pandemic Houseguest Part 4 The Pandemic Houseguest Part Four By Mitchell Conner Greetings readers. This is entirely fiction, a work brought on by a perverted imagination, access to the internet and time to burn. If it’s illegal wherever you live, or for your calendar age, stop now. This story is mine: you’re welcome to use it to pass the time but not to copy and repost as your own demented work. Before I go on, let’s talk about Bob. Bob stays safe inside because it’s the right thing to do. Bob gets horny so he goes to fty to help with that problem by reading stories like this and other even better ones. Bob donates generously because it’s the right thing to do. Be like Bob. Thank you for waiting � this is a longer chapter so it took a while to write� or actually to rewrite because I trashed most of my first draft. Jordan and Dean seem to have their own idea where the story is going and it’s difficult to keep them on task as they grow closer. Patience please: in this story literary sexual innuendo precedes literal sexual in-your-end-oh! To those that emailed me: thank you for the encouragement and kind words. I’m humbled by how much you’re enjoying this story. Comments welcome � I haven’t written anything for fty in years and am suffering from cabin fever, so this is my Rx. Short of an earthquake, I couldn’t think of anything that would make this day any more dramatic. I was exhausted but restless, so of course I figured that man’s best sleep aid would be the answer. I tugged down the lightweight short shorts I was wearing in case I had to get up for some Jordan-related reason and wrapped my trusty left hand around my already hard cock. Visions of Jordan’s shower-fresh, towel-clad waist, the inviting bulge just below the edge of the towel, and the expanse of silky smooth, hairless, tan, flat belly topped by tasty looking nipples immediately flooded my imagination as my cock tingled with each stroke. I willed myself to stop stroking as my logical, conscious mind took over, a classic big head against the little head battle men have been having for eons. `I’ve got to stop this!’ I thought, chastising my imagination for focusing on the hands-off houseguest. Instead, I started stroking my seven-point-five-incher as I returned to that earlier memory of my first shower with Devin years ago. We’d walked hand in hand into a shower built for one, the close quarters forcing us to be in intimate, slippery contact as the water cascaded down on our young bodies. Devin had taken the lead, working his sudsy hands sensuously down my chest and abs. I tensed in anticipation of him stroking my cock next. Instead, Devin went around it, kneeling in front of me as he washed my legs. He reached around me, his hands caressing my butt as he washed it. I recalled sucking in a lungful of air and throwing my head back as Devin stroked into the cleft between my cheeks, his fingers lightly running over a private place that I never knew until now could provide such pleasure. The intensity of those feelings made me push forward onto Devin’s face. Devin didn’t move back, but instead brushed his face against my hard, upright cock. A guttural moan escaped my lips as Devin continued to use his stubble-free teen face to stroke my cock, his mouth closed but his lips brushing the sensitive head. Finally, I had to put my hands on my friend’s shoulders and hiss `Stop!’ so I wouldn’t explode and paint his face with cum. Devin rubbed as much of his body as possible against me as he slowly rose up. As we leaned into each other I sought out Devin’s exposed neck, and without thinking started kissing and running my tongue over the soft, wet skin, lost in the act of giving and receiving such great pleasure. “Oh Dean,” Devin moaned into my ear, resting his chin on my shoulder. We started rubbing each other under the spray of water, our bodies lubricated by the remaining suds. Before we could both go over the edge, I stopped. “My turn,” I’d said, reaching for a pump of shower gel. I copied Devin’s routine at first, my lathered hands caressing his developing chest, lightly rubbing over his swollen red nipples and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. Lower I went, hands moving sensuously on soap slickened skin. I went down to my knees, at eye level with Devin’s fat five-incher and took a moment to study it in close proximity. Devin’s was cut like mine, but the foreskin wasn’t as tight and his big cockhead added to his cock’s girth. A large vein meandered over the top of Devin’s dick, leading my eyes up to some sparse hairs that formed a small border between it and the innie belly button a few inches above it on his silken, flat torso. I used my soaped up right hand to gently cup Devin’s wrinkled round velvet textured sack, rolling the two small balls it contained, eliciting another moan from him. Releasing the sperm makers, I extended my fingers back, stroking up the taint until I came to Devin’s own private place. I instinctively circled my index finger around the soap slickened tight little bud of flesh, my lust overruling any conscious thoughts I may have had about its usual purpose. “Oh God!” Devin moaned, his hands now on my shoulders so he wouldn’t fall. As I stroked back and forth over the ridged skin of his taint and pushed lightly on Devin’s opening I felt him shudder once, twice, and then three times as his cock expanded against my face and my finger was partially sucked into the hole. At the same time I became aware of something hot dripping down my cheek and turned as a final spurt of boy cum landed on my closed lips. Instinctively I licked, tasting salty sweet watery fluid. I realized it was my best friend’s cum and instead of being grossed out, I licked my lips again. I felt a sudden closeness to this boy that I’d never experienced with anyone ever. My heart pounded in emotion and I wrapped my arms around Devin’s legs as he tried to maintain his balance. “Oh man! I’m so sorry. Really… I couldn’t stop when you did that… geez…” Devin blurted out. I stood up, arms sliding up and maintaining a hug, and came face to face with Devin, looking at him with complete adoration. Devin reached out tentatively and dabbed away the last of his seed remaining on my face, a look of concern on his face. “It’s okay… really…” I said, then leaned in to his ear and whispered, “I liked it.” Devin smiled at me as he lowered his right hand to my cock, bending it down and guiding it into the space between his legs, moving his hips forward to lock it into place. Devin swayed back and forth twice before I started moving intuitively in a fucking motion, driving my cock into that warm, slippery, fleshy place as I mashed his upright cock into my belly. My head started spinning, I couldn’t think, I could only keep driving my hard cock between his legs. My strokes became more and more frenzied, trying for higher heights of excitement. I felt Devin’s konyaaltı kendi evi olan escort legs tighten, forcing my raging cock up and against the flesh surrounding his hole. I saw white light as unintelligible sounds erupted from my mouth in time with the jets of cum shooting out of my cock. As I stood still, reveling in the aftermath of my massive orgasm, Devin’s hard cock rubbed on my pubes and belly as he let out a series of grunts, followed by the now familiar feel of his hot cum, this time on my abs. Two out of breath boys had collapsed into each other, slowly sinking to the shower floor in a tangle of long, lean, adolescent legs, and smooth tanned torsos, their arms still holding each other as the shower rained down on them. I remembered reaching out and lifting Devin’s chin, but in my mind’s eye now the face that came into view as I stroked my sensitive hard cock was… Jordan’s. Four, five, six… I lost count of how many times I shot as the intense memories of my first boy were taken over by the boy who was now sharing my home. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” I muttered under my breath, too caught up in a huge release and the afterglow to give said fuck. Five tissues later I was lying on my back, shorts still down and cock in hand as I fell into a deep sleep within minutes. I woke up around 8:00am with a throbbing length of morning wood. Willing myself to quit replaying my mind’s eye video of Jordan’s 5:00am show, I was finally able to bend my cock down enough to piss. As I shook off the last drop it started rising again and I wondered if some of Jordan’s teen energy was rubbing off on me? `Oh geez,’ I thought, `Don’t put Jordan and rubbing off in one sentence or I’m doomed!’ I jumped into the shower and purposely set it on cold, and I swear that steam came off my cock when it was hit with the spray. I put on a fresh pair of black nylon shorts, a red tank top and headed out. The living room drapes were open and the sofa bed was put away, as though nothing at all happened here last night. I heard the washing machine going as I walked into the kitchen, knowing it likely contained a set of sheets, a pair of gray underwear and a small towel. I was greeted by the sight of Jordan wearing only a pair of well-fitted blue boxer briefs, his smooth shirtless back towards me. My eyes were drawn downward past the two dimples next to his spine, to two globes of perfectly shaped, tight cotton clad round boy-butt. “Good morning,” I said in my rather raspy morning voice. “Ahhhhh!” Jordan yelled in surprise as he turned towards me. “Get a fucking bell!” “Excuse me?!” I said, in mock indignation, while realizing my eyes had traveled on autopilot down to his very well-filled pouch. “My eyes are up here,” Jordan pointed out with a sarcastic smile. “You gonna stand there or are you gonna tell me where the coffee is so I can get this day started?” Despite being busted, I thought I was ready for this. “You mean you can make your bed, start the laundry and make coffee?! You’re gonna make someone a great wi… um… roomie someday!” I said, instantly regretting my attempt at smart-assery. “A what?!” Jordan said harshly. “Excuse me?! he added, attempting to mock my earlier mock indignation. I was going to have to tread carefully with this one, despite the home court advantage. “It’s in the freezer,” I instructed, clumsily changing the subject. “Didn’t know you drank coffee.” “I drink many things, Dean,” he responded, coyly smiling at me as he spoke. “Um… so yeah… I appreciate you doing the laundry Jordan, you’re the first houseguest that ever did that.” “Another virgin moment!” Jordan said playfully, pumping his fist into the air. “If you say so,” I answered, slyly. “I’m just kinda surprised you’re already doing a load,” I added, inadvertently using the word `load.’ Jordan looked at me suspiciously, then spoke. “Actually most of the clothes I brought with me were dirty. I usually do the laundry on Saturday but we both know how yesterday came… to an end,” he said, failing to sound innocent. “Whaddya want for breakfast?” I ventured, giving up on one-upping the boy by changing the subject�again. “I checked your fridge. You’ve got just enough for eggs, sausage, and toast to go with this coffee,” he answered, turning his back to me and opening the refrigerator door. “So tell me, do you like your eggs, scrambled, fried… or over easy?” he ended, his voice a bit sultry as I swear he slightly wiggled his butt. “Uh… um… s-s-scrambled,” I stuttered, my mind spinning. “Thanks.” “I think someone needs some coffee first,” he said, and got to work on making it. I used this opportunity to excuse myself to the nearest private place: the laundry room. I leaned back on the washing machine as it chugged along, no doubt removing dead teen boy sperm from whatever was in it. I glanced down at the laundry basket and sucked in my breath as I saw a pair of gray boxer briefs, the backside still stretched out in the shape of a round boy butt. I glanced over my shoulder at the door to the kitchen and then quickly leaned down, snatched them up, and turned them over. A sizeable crusty white puddle of adolescent boy cum was dried on the upper corner, exactly where I saw the boy shoot last night. It was an impressive amount and before I could stop myself, I was inhaling pungent boy aroma through the shorts like some crazed glue sniffing addict. “Do you want me to go ahead and add salt to your eggs?” I heard Dean ask from the kitchen. I was so startled I jerked, my new treasure flying into the air and coming down in the small space between the washer and dryer. “Okay,” I grunted as I leaned over to retrieve the briefs. I heard the door open as Jordan asked, “What? I couldn’t hear…” and realized he was behind me, basically speaking to my butt. “So um… Dean… whatcha doin’?” he asked. “I… um… saw a bunch of lint down here and was cleaning it up,” I answered, sliding his underwear to the side next to the basket.” “Anal,” Jordan mumbled, adding, “Breakfast will be ready in five,” as he turned and left. As I returned the underwear to the basket it detoured past my nose for a final satisfying sniff. Breakfast was actually quite pleasant, and the view was excellent as he sat across from me now wearing a tight white tank top that emphasized his lean developing chest, two nipple nubs pointing out invitingly. I even complimented him on the coffee he’d brewed. Eating seemed to take Jordan’s mind off making double entendres, and purposely mixed messages, but there was still general smart-assery. “My mom texted me this morning. She’s okay,” Jordan said, as he stood to take his dishes to the sink. “She asked how it was going.” “And what did you tell her?” I asked, joining him by the sink with my dishes. “That you tortured me so I’d cook breakfast, make coffee and do the laundry,” he answered, konyaaltı otele gelen escort putting his dishes in the sink. “And she said..?” I asked, playing along and putting my dishes in the sink as well. “That she wanted to know if it was with your hands or a paddle. I told her it was mental torture from your bad jokes.” “Sounds about right,” I agreed. “So you miss her, huh?” Jordan turned towards me with a look that I now knew as a signal. He just cleared my arms opening up as he buried his face in my bare chest, his nose pressing on my left nipple, and his arms wrapped tightly around me. This time there was only a few breathy shudders and no sobs as he held on for a few minutes of hug recharging. As he pulled away he gave me a sheepish look, as though he’d been caught being human. “Our secret,” he said in a quiet voice, looking me in the eyes as I nodded my head in agreement. He’d come out from behind his walls for a moment, and looking at his adorable teen-boy face I felt the stirrings of feelings that hadn’t been around for years. I tried to deny that the pull between us was irresistible, and it was only a matter of time before I’d have to face the turning point. We tackled the dishes, him rinsing, and me putting them into the dishwasher. Then the washing machine buzzed and off he went to do his chores. I stood in the laundry room doorway as he put the freshly washed clothes into the dryer, then picked up an armload of dirty clothes to put in the washing machine. I had to stifle a laugh when I noticed that the cum- soiled boxer briefs were on top of those clothes. Jordan looked at me quizzically and I just raised my eyebrows and tilted my head down. Jordan followed my head nod and found himself looking down at the crusty aromatic undies just inches away from his chin. I was truly sorry I didn’t have my phone ready to capture his expression in a picture, but it’ll live on in my memory. Jordan didn’t utter a word and then failed at trying to act nonchalant. I gracefully left the room to leave him to his chore. I went to my office to do a bit of organizing on some client projects and give the boy some space. I heard him go into the bathroom and then the shower running. By my estimation he was in there long enough to relive how those boxer briefs got so crusty last night. I then heard him plunk down on the sofa in the living, followed by the noise of the TV playing some random program. Around twelve o’clock I looked up to see Jordan standing in my office doorway, looking at me as though asking for permission to enter my work sanctuary. This time he was wearing some nicely fitted camo-cargo shorts along with that tight white tank top. “What’s up roomie?” Jordan approached my desk at about the same time his stomach growled. “Okay. You like Subway?” I asked. “Yeah, sounds good.” It was good to get out of the house for a while and get some fresh air. We took our to-go sandwiches out to the marina area and found a place to sit where we could see the ocean and feel a nice cool breeze. “I’m worried about my mom,” Jordan announced out of the blue. “She never goes on any dates. I see cars in your driveway sometimes, are those dates?” “Umm that’s kinda private, Jordan,” I deflected. “Okay, anyway, I asked her one time why she didn’t ask you out for a date and she told me you weren’t her type. She even punched me in the arm when I showed her a picture of Shrek on my phone and asked if that was more like it. Then she explained it to me.” After a moment of awkward silence, he added, “So when did you know?” “That I didn’t look like Shrek?” I replied, rather proud of my quick wit at avoiding a direct answer. Jordan lunged at me and we ended up in an impromptu sitting hug. The word adorable came to mind once again as I smelled his freshly shampooed hair and felt his face nestled into my muscular chest. “Do you like me?” Jordan asked, pulling back and looking up at me. “Umm… err… yeah, of course,” I stuttered as an answer. “You know Jordan, people usually chat about stuff like the weather, or lunch before they launch into more serious stuff,” I added, releasing our hug and standing up. “Okay, I get it. So, do you like the weather, lunch, or me? Which one do you like most?” he countered, joining me on foot. I chuckled at his attempt. “I like you the most, of course, although if this sandwich talks to me like a smartass I can just eat it,” I responded, taking the last bite of it. “I knew you liked me,” he said triumphantly. “It’s hard not to, Jordan, but you’re kinda like the weather: there’s no telling what you’ll do next.” “Got that right!” he said, pumping his fist in the air. I didn’t want to get further into this so I turned and headed to the car. “Don’t worry Dean, I like you too,” Jordan said, smiling at me as he sat down in the car. `The way I like you?’ I wondered. Once home we both found our own thing to do for an hour and then I remembered my promise to Jordan: it was time for a workout. I found Jordan lounging on the sofa. Sneaking up behind him I leaned over the sofa. “Meet me in the gym in five minutes. Be ready to sweat,” I announced. “Get a fucking bell!!!” Jordan screamed out, repeating his request at breakfast. “Whaddya mean?” I asked. “It’s something my mom says when I scare her. She doesn’t like it when people sneak up on her and neither do I!” he said indignantly. “Okay, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I said by way of apology. “Panties?!” he responded in the best threatening voice he could muster as he stood up and came around the sofa towards me. I ran to the gym as he followed me, quickly turning around as I entered and nearly being mowed over by about one-hundred-twenty pounds of cute blond-haired teen boy. “This is why you need more muscle, girly-boy!” I said in my best Arnold imitation as I held him at bay with my hands on his biceps. “Okay, okay! I give! But no more bad imitations,” he pleaded. As soon as I let go he stepped back and pulled his shirt off. “What are you doing?” I asked in surprise. “I wanna see my muscles working when I do this!” he explained. I couldn’t keep from laughing. “What?” he asked. “Okay, I guess that makes some kind of sense.” You need to take your shirt off too,” he added slyly. “Um… I don’t think that’s necessary Jordan,” I declined, trying to keep some sense of propriety going. “Huh? You can’t be embarrassed about having your shirt off. I mean, you’ve already got muscles. Oh wait; I know why you want to keep it on.” “You do? Why?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. “‘Cause if you take it off you’ll be like my grandma and boom!” he says, dropping his cupped hands to waist level.” “They. Do. Not. Sag!” I responded, flexing my pecs up with each word. “Wow!!! If my grandma could do that with her boobs I bet grandpa wouldn’t be so grumpy all the time!” I chuckled at konyaaltı rus escort the adorable smart-ass and relented, stripping off my t-shirt along with my decency. “Yeah, that’s good,” Jordan said looking on admiringly. I felt myself blush, then tried to get back on track. “So, why do you want to work out?” I asked, folding my big arms across my now shirtless chest. “I want to look like this,” he said, pointing his hand palm up in my general direction. “You want to look like an old man?” I asked, trying for a serious tone. “Geez no… come on… I want muscles,” he said, a bit exasperated. “You know, guns, pecs, and whatever else makes me look bigger.” “It’s a lot of work,” I said. “That’s okay,” he responded, “We got like what, two weeks or so until this virus shit calms down?” I let the language slide for the moment because I started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” “You really think this takes two weeks?” I asked, indicating my body. “I dunno, you’re the expert.” “That I am, Jordan. Let’s get started.” There was probably more touchy-feely that afternoon in my gym than there’d been in my bed since I moved into this place. My pecs, abs, arms, legs, and even butt were repeatedly touched as Jordan used our workout as an excuse to acquaint himself with different exercises and what parts of my body they’d benefit. Judging from the bulge in his shorts he was enjoying the opportunity immensely. I had to touch back, purely in the interest of instruction of course. My one-eyed monster spent a lot of time partially engorged as I used my hands on Jordan’s smooth, silky-skinned back, chest, arms, abs and round little boy-butt to correct his form. When he’d lift a weight over his head I could only make out a few short blond hairs under his arms, all but invisible unless he turned towards the light. I didn’t even try to deny to myself that, like Jordan, I immensely enjoyed both touching him and the view. At one point as I lay on the bench with Jordan standing invitingly above me, he’d teasingly twisted my left nipple. I’d let out an involuntary groan, as he’d accidentally found what some past lovers had referred to as my `slut buttons.’ “Gotcha!” he exclaimed. Then he stared at it as it swelled and stuck out even more than normal. “Will mine get big like yours from working out? I mean, aren’t you worried they’ll rip your shirt when they point out like that? he asked, trying to make a joke of it. “Funny boy!” I responded, taking the opportunity to reach up and grab both of his nubby little nipples and give them a half twist. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed, putting his hands over mine. “Now I know why yours are so big! Stop it! I give! I give!” I released them and both of us looked at his nipples as they started to swell up a bit. His hands then went from near his nipples to cover his expanding groin. `Same reaction I get when mine are twisted,’ I thought, and couldn’t help visualizing reaching around from behind Jordan and playing with them. Jordan looked at me, bewildered at his body’s obvious reaction to nipple play. His mouth started to move, then stopped. I sighed in relief as he didn’t say something smart-ass. So here we were, two sweaty, spent guys with sensitive nipples. “Did I do good, Dean?” Jordan asked, his need for encouragement more important than figuring out how nipple play causes hard-ons. “You did very well, Jordan,” I answered, standing up and praising him while correcting his grammar. “You know, you’ve already got something a lot of guys have to work really hard to get.” “What’s that?” “These,” I pointed out, touching the indented sides of his lower abs as they tapered towards his groin. “Really? You have them too. What are they?” “I think they’re called the Apollo’s belt. There’s a funny slang term for them but I don’t know if it’s appropriate to tell you,” I said, realizing right away he wouldn’t be letting this one go. “What? Come on, I’m fifteen not five!” “All right, but don’t tell your mom you heard it from me. They’re called cum gutters,” I explained, as I moved my hands down the sides of my abs as though following the path the draining liquid would take. Jordan’s eyes got wide as he looked down at his flat hairless belly, traced the muscles and figured out how it would work. He started laughing so hard he finally had to sit down on the bench as he ran out of breath from the joke and his workout. “Good one, Dean,” he said, with a big smile. At this point what I needed was a good one, alone with my left hand and my demanding one-eyed friend, but the growl of Jordan’s stomach indicated that was not to be… at least for now. As a reward for his hard work I ordered pizza and we ate in the living room watching Netflix, or perhaps I should say I ate a few slices, keeping my hands clear of Jordan’s wild animal feeding area while he devoured most of it. Maybe it was remembering Devin, or being around Jordan for a while, reminding me what it was like when I was fifteen and hanging out with other boys. Whatever the reason, I knew what movie I wanted to watch with Jordan: `Stand by Me.’ It’d come out when I was sixteen, and was the last movie I ever went to with Devin, so it meant a lot to me. I got up, rummaged through a drawer in the entertainment center and found the DVD. I put it into the player, pressed play on the remote, and… nothing. “Hey!” “Ahhhhh!!!!” I yelped, feeling a hand on my shoulder. Turning and seeing Jordan I added, “Get a fucking bell!” “Paybacks are a bitch, aren’t they?” he smirked. “Here, now I’m the expert,” he added, holding his hand out for the remote. “What’s it about,” Jordan asked once we’d sat down on the sofa and he’d worked his magic with the remote. “Boys who are friends,” I answered. “Boyfriends?” he exclaimed over-dramatically. I just shook my head at his poorly attempted drama. “Wait and see.” The movie was everything I remembered it to be. I felt my emotions rise as the story played out, recalling sitting in the theater with Devin, holding hands down low so nobody could see. I also felt Jordan’s presence, as he moved closer to me on the sofa. By the end Jordan was leaning against my left side and out of the corner of my eye I saw he was paying rapt attention to the movie. “Although I haven’t seen him in more than ten years I know I’ll miss him forever. I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anybody?” came the narrator’s penultimate line at the end. I gulped as the narrator spoke that last line, its essence still true all these years later. My eyes were moist and I could feel my heart beating. “Dean,” Jordan said, as he put his put his left arm over me. “Are you okay?” “Um… yeah… I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly. “You look upset.” “No. It’s just that… this movie reminds me of when I was your age.” “Really? Did you go on an adventure like that with friends like those boys?” “No. I just had one special boy, I mean, one special friend,” I answered my voice low as I struggled to control my growing emotion. “Who was he? What was his name?” Jordan asked. “He was Devin,” I answered shakily, and before I could stop myself, I added, “He was my first.” “First… what?” Jordan asked, his voice caring and sincere as he put his soft small hands on top of mine. “My first… everything.”

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