All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com
A Very Ordinary Boy (Part 1)
From Chapter 3:
And talking of the gay thing, with no sign of either parent, here's a golden opportunity to go straight up to my room, fire up the laptop, click on College Jocks or Gayboyz4U, get naked (from the waist down, at least) and rub one out, exactly what I've been desperate to do ever since being literally bowled over by Noah Richmond in FfT. Believe me, once I'm sitting at my desk, hunky college guys going at it on the screen, shorts and underwear (briefs if you must know) around my ankles and cock in hand, it doesn't take long for me to produce a major cum-load onto the carefully-placed towel that's on the floor between my feet -- the towel that has to be regularly and cunningly hidden among the rest of my laundry in order to conceal the results of my wanking activities from Rosa's radar.
Chapter 4: This working life.
Wow, it's hard (no, not that! Don't you ever think of anything else?) Working, that's what's hard (okay, so, yes, my cock is too, but that's nothing unusual and it'll have to wait a while before it gets any relief). I've just got home from my first day at FfT and I'm shattered. How I managed to find the energy to ride home I have no idea.
I was awake and out of bed bright and early this morning, pretty much excited at the prospect of starting my first shift as a working boy. I showered, wanked and dressed in record time and went down to the kitchen, not quite sure what sort of reception I'd get. My mum was drinking coffee and reading the morning paper on her tablet, same as she does every weekend morning. During the week it's coffee and case notes in preparation for the day's clients, and silence is expected of the number 1 (and only) son, but weekends are more relaxed. As I walked in I saw her lift her eyes up from the screen and open her mouth ready to speak, but then she obviously had second thoughts `cause her mouth closed and she looked back down. I figured she'd been about to pick up where we'd left off last night but something made her decide that that wouldn't be such a good idea. I wasn't disappointed.
You remember I said things could go one of two ways once my mum found out about the job, either, 1.) pleased with my new-found initiative, or 2.) convinced my school grades would go down the pan? Well, I wasn't wrong and, lucky for me, she chose route number one. It was all "Very impressive" and "Real life experience" and "Widening horizons" (she really doesn't do normal mum' talk). I thought I was home and dry and feeling very pleased with myself, but then the second part of my prediction kicked in, the, "Unimpressed that I hadn't talked to her about it first" part and the, "You're telling me that Rosa knew about this before me?" part. Suddenly any notion of feeling good vanished like snow in the Caribbean. I did try pointing out that I'm seventeen, not a little kid any more, and that I shouldn't be expected to ask permission for every little thing, especially if I'm supposed to be showing initiative and stuff. After that there was a lot of harrumphing about respect and consideration before a truce was called and I retreated upstairs. My dad came up later (there was no 5-minute warning so at first I wasn't best pleased to see him, especially as, not twenty minutes earlier, it was another pants round the ankles' situation -- though no on-line porn this time, just images of Noah Richmond, naked and hard, populating my imagination). He told me not to take the negative things mum had said too much to heart, that, despite all her training and experience and all the things she says about healthy adolescent development, she is having a hard time adjusting to the fact that I'm nearly an adult and about to "Fly the nest" and all that shit. I thought it was really good of him to come and explain and was more than pleased when he told me he backed me to the hilt about the job and would do what he could to get mum off my case. Good old dad. Maybe it's thanks to him that mum kept her mouth shut this morning. As I was leaving she even said she hoped I'd have a good day.
It was after dad went downstairs last night that I finally got back to Dyl and Si. They'd been texting and leaving messages on my voice mail for hours, asking about the interview and wanting to know when I was gonna be starting the job, almost as if they knew I'd got it which, as it turns out, they did. I spoke to Dyl first and that's when I started to get suspicious. He sounded really shifty and evasive, as if he knew something and wasn't allowed to tell, but I couldn't work out what it was and he wasn't about to reveal anything. With Si, though, there was no subterfuge or underhand stuff, she just came straight out with it. She knew I was bound to get the job, she said, because she knew that there wasn't anyone else being interviewed. And how did she know this you're asking? Well, it was dead simple really. It was because, on the day when she and Dyl had gone in and picked up the application form from Mrs. Harrington, as they were leaving the place, they (Si mainly) took the JOB VACANCY sign out of the window. Stole it, just like that! Which explains, of course, Mrs. Harrington's comment about not having anyone else interested in the job. So, basically she and Dyl had set the whole thing up. I was so riled up and angry at the pair of them (mostly Si) that I discontinued the call half way through the conversation and didn't reply to any of the texts or voice mails they spent the rest of the evening sending.
I tried to settle down to get an early night, you know, so I could be well-rested and full of energy for my first shift at FfT, but whenever I closed my eyes I couldn't stop thinking about what Dyl and Si (mostly Si) had done. What sort of friends were they anyway, so convinced that I wouldn't be able to get myself a job (even a pathetic part-time job in some rubbish café/bookshop)? That I couldn't stand up to the scrutiny of a competitive interview? That they had to rig it to make sure there wouldn't be any competition? I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so mad with the pair of them and that meant, of course, that I couldn't get to sleep. Usually I'm in Nodsville pretty much as soon as my eyes are closed but last night I lay there for more than an hour, going over and over in my head how pissed off I was with my, supposedly, two best friends. In the end I had no choice, I had to resort to the traditional and guaranteed remedy for teenage boy insomnia -- wanking! I thought about firing up my laptop to find one of my fave porn sites but, really, I couldn't be bothered to get out of bed and walk over to my desk to get it so I just had to rely on my imagination. Enter Noah Richmond, tall, incredibly handsome, built, naked. Okay, so in reality I've only ever seen him with all his clothes on and have no idea what he actually looks like without them, but that's the beauty of imagination, you can picture your perfect boyfriend crush however you like - smooth, hairy, muscled, skinny, bubble-butted, big-balled, thick-dicked, cut, uncut - the choices are endless and, even better, they're yours.
The Noah Richmond I conjured up on the inside of my eyelids was standing in the shower, naked (naturally), warm water and soap bubbles cascading down his all-over golden-tanned body. The silver-blonde hair on his head (if he lived in California it would be considered ideal surfer-dude length and colour) a perfect match for the neatly-trimmed nest above his swelling cock and the few short wisps on his swinging ball-sac. I watched (with my mind's eye) as the combination of water and soap bubbles flowed down over the defined rectangles of Noah's chest, briefly pausing in the small triangle of near-invisible hair in the cleft between them, before swirling round the pair of small but aroused and prominent nipples. To start with Noah's hands were sweeping over his body, pushing the soapy water down towards his toned and muscular legs, tracing the jigsaw pattern pieces of his rock-like six-pack (this is my fantasy, remember?). It wasn't long, though, before his hands were tracing the twin creases at the top of those blonde hair-dusted legs, his fingers gently rubbing up and down the sides of his ball-sac before closing in and repeatedly massaging his entire, beautiful package.
Oh yes, definitely beautiful and also rapidly rising to the occasion, Noah's uncut cock gradually swelling and lifting, the pale pink foreskin automatically being pulled further and further back over the glistening knob. Finally, fully inflated, the whole eight, thick, veiny inches (a boy can dream, you know) looked as if it was throbbing with pent-up energy and power, the skin now comfortably trapped under the ridge below the shiny, purple head. As my fantasy crush brought his right hand up to grasp his rigid tool he bent his knees slightly so I could clearly see his butt-crack as it curved towards his ball-sac. It was almost as if he was putting on a show for my benefit (which, of course, in my imagination, he was!) Then, with his green eyes half-lidded and a smile of anticipation curling the outside edges of his oh-so-kissable lips, the middle finger of his left hand began to slide expertly along the crack, sometimes pausing at the entrance to his hole. The smile widened. He'd done this before!
With his left hand teasing his butt-hole and his right repeatedly and rapidly massaging his raging cock, it wasn't long before my fantasy Noah's hips were thrusting, his knees were shaking and his breathing coming in shallow gasps. And his breath wasn't the only thing that was cumming. With one last high-speed wanking flourish a Vesuvius of cum erupted from his quivering tool, spraying the glass wall of the shower and dribbling down it to mix with the soapy water as it disappeared down the drain.
Oh wow! I've just gone back over that last section and, unlike my usual style, it seems like I really let rip with the purple prose (we've been studying different writing styles in English with Mr. Miles). It's almost like I'd made it up for some saddo reader of one of those on-line gay story sites, but we both know that that's not true. Anyway, no sooner had Noah emptied his load all over the shower screen (in my head, of course) than I realised that he wasn't the only one who'd cum. Honestly, I had no idea I'd even been hard. I'd been so caught up in the vision I was creating of Noah doing his thing. It must have been my first ever `hands-free', my cock and balls getting excited all by themselves, and only a few hours since my last session. Amazing! Whatever, once I'd wiped myself down with my trusty, crusty (and still damp from my previous wank) cum towel, specially hidden under my bed for exactly that purpose, I was asleep in seconds flat, and stayed that way till my alarm went off at 7 this morning.
After my non-conversation with my mum as I wolfed down two slices of toast, a bowl of fruit Cheerios and half a carton of orange juice, I was out of the house and cycling towards town in good time to be at FfT by 8.30 a.m., as instructed by Mrs. H. She explained that she wanted me there early on my first morning so I could get to meet her daughter, who'd be running the show, and have a few minutes to begin to find my way around the place before the first customers arrived.
Okay, so the daughter turned out to be the chalk to Mrs. H's cheese. At first I didn't even believe they could be related, much less mother and daughter. You remember I told you that Mrs. H was all bangles and floaty fabrics and wacko hair? Well, not Michelle, the daughter. Michelle was all professional-looking with black shirt, long white apron and short, neat hair. It definitely wasn't what I was expecting and it must have shown on my face as I walked in cause she laughed and said that, despite all appearances, she really was Mrs. H's daughter and that, yes, they were different but also very close. She said she'd heard good reports about me (from her mum) and was looking forward to getting to know me and to us working together. A good start, eh? She said she'd been told I was keen on reading and books, especially art books, and that, apart from busy times like lunchtime and the mid-morning I can't go another minute without a caffeine hit' crowd, she was happy to leave me to the book side of things while she concentrated on the café stuff. Suits me. Then she quickly showed me how to use the on-line ordering and stock management system, the card-reader and cash register and left me to it, said she'd got a batch of buns to get out of the oven in the small kitchen upstairs. (I'd been wondering about the fantastic smell. Apparently she does all her own baking, apart from some of the more- fancy patisserie stuff which she pays an old friend from cookery college to make for her.) And that was it, not exactly the most comprehensive new-boy-on-the-job induction there's ever been but, hey, how hard can it be? (Stop it! I've told you before about your one-track mind.)
For the first hour or so there was a small but steady stream of customers for the café but pretty much no-one who ventured as far as the book area, just an elderly couple who came in to enquire about a book they'd ordered a while back, wondering if it had come in yet. It hadn't, at least, according to the computer it hadn't and I definitely couldn't find it behind the counter on the shelf that was reserved for books awaiting collection.
Although the book part of the place was at the back, it still meant that I had a good view of the café area at the front, and so, with hardly any customers seeming to be interested in buying a book in the first hour, I had both the time and the opportunity to check FfT's customers. I was surprised what a mixed bunch they were. I'd expected them to be mostly middle-aged or elderly, taking a break from their weekly shopping but, no, not a bit of it. Okay, so there were some who were the wrong side of forty, but there were lots of young families, couples and, most surprisingly to me, a steady stream of high schoolers (who knew they'd even be awake and out of bed at that time on a Saturday morning?)
The lack of book-buying customers meant I had time to begin to get to know the book stock and I soon realised that old Mr. Harrington really knew his stuff. The shelves were crammed with a very impressive range, fiction and non, new and second-hand. Surprise, surprise, it wasn't long before I was engrossed in one of those old fashioned and glossy coffee-table books about the art of Renaissance Florence, lots of paintings of the Madonna and Child and suffering saints, but also a double-page spread of photos of Michelangelo's statue of David taken from every possible angle. Way sexy! Get Mr. Google to give you the tour.
Then, just after 10.00, things started to hot up for Michelle and she roped me in to take orders to customers sitting at the tables and to clear away when they left, leaving her to do the serious stuff of making the drinks and plating up the food. After that it was non-stop until well into the afternoon and so it was quite a surprise to take a drinks order -- one skinny latte and one diet Coke - to one of the smaller tables and find Dyl and Si sitting there, looking very pleased with themselves. They (Si mostly) were desperate to get me to give them the low-down on my first day at FfT but I still hadn't forgiven them for the stunt they'd pulled to get me the job, stealing the job advert out of the window, so I was in no mood to chat. I just put down the drinks, along with the bill, and walked away. I couldn't see of course, but I was sure Si would have been giving me the dead-eye behind my back -- she hates it when things don't go her way. It wasn't long before I saw them leaving but I pretended not to have noticed. There's gonna be payback, I know there will, but it'll be worth it to have got one over on the pair of them.
After the lunch rush things quietened down again so Michelle had me emptying the dishwasher and re-stocking the gaps in the tea and coffee shelves from the morning's sales. Eventually she seemed happy that there were no more café jobs that needed my help so I was free to go back to `my' books and, you guessed it, Michelangelo's very naked David.
It was mid-afternoon, and after a busy hour of book-buying customers I was back with David and many miles away from reality, when I was interrupted by the sound of a forced and demanding cough. I looked up into the jade green eyes and wide smile of my late-night wank fantasy. Have I ever boned up so fast? Then my attention flicked sideways to see Tani van Meyer draped round Noah's neck like a human boa constrictor. Have I ever boned down so fast? I hate to admit it but they really did look good together -- both tall and tanned, clear-skinned and bright-eyed, white-toothed and shining-haired. Noah's perfect fringe was sexily curved across one eye and Tani's expensively-manicured fingers were repeatedly rubbing up and down the flesh of Jason's chest, exposed by the three unfastened top buttons on his shirt.
It turns out they hadn't only come in for the free drinks and cake (he is Michelle's cousin after all) but for Noah to apologise, all over again, for his human steam-roller act yesterday. He said Tani had insisted that he should finish work early enough to come into town and tell me, again, just how sorry he was for being so careless and stupid yesterday. I tried explaining that it was all good, that I hadn't suffered any lasting damage and that he shouldn't beat himself up over a silly accident. He looked genuinely grateful that I was taking it so well and relieved when Michelle came over and dragged Tani away, something about a new shortbread recipe she wanted her opinion on, leaving me alone with Noah Richmond! What would I say? Would I even be able to speak? Here I was, Jack, totally ordinary Smith, alone with the amazing and beautiful Noah Richmond who, only a few hours ago, was making my cock and balls erupt without even being touched. Shit!
With no Tani to take up all his attention, Noah's gaze travelled downwards, coming to rest on the full colour images of the statue of David in the open book in front of me. Talk about embarrassed. I could feel my face turning lobster and beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My brain went into overdrive, desperately trying to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation for my choice of undeniably oh-so-gay reading material. But once again my secret crush took me by surprise, telling me that, he too, was a fan of Renaissance art and then walking round the counter to stand beside me. While I was trying to get my head around this completely mind-blowing revelation, Noah was flicking through the pages of the book, finally stopping at another double-page spread showing another statue of David, this one by Donatello (No, we're not talking ninja turtles here) and oh so different from Michelangelo's masterpiece. If you went looking and happened to find real life versions of these two statues when you logged into your fave on-line porn sites, Michelangelo's David would definitely be on Hunky Jocks or College Dudes 4 U while Donatello's would be on Flaming Twinks or Boyfriend Fantasies. No prizes for guessing my choice. I was just trying to find the balls to ask Noah which he preferred when Tani reappeared, instantly grabbing her boyfriend's attention. Apparently they had, "Places to be and people to see." Noah nodded and turned to go but it looked to me that, given the choice, he would have preferred to continue scoping out the works of 15th century Italian masters -- pathetic wishful thinking on my part or what? Just before he was dragged away he glanced back at me, smiled and said he'd see me again soon. And I swear that, along with the smile, there was a wink. Really - a wink!
The last hour or so of my first shift at FfT must have happened but I don't remember anything about it. I was still in a state of shock over the way Noah had seemed reluctant to go. And then there was the wink. For me. From Noah Richmond. Too unreal. And what about the two Davids -- Michelangelo's and Donatello's? And how come Noah knew about Italian art in the fifteenth century? So many questions. My head was all over the place trying to come up with answers. So when Michelle came to tell me to cash up, tidy up and get off home I had no idea that so much time had passed. And then, just as I was opening the door to leave, there was another surprise, my share of the tips. I definitely hadn't been expecting that, hadn't given it any thought in fact. But Michelle explained the FfT rule, that all `gratuities' (apparently that's the correct term for what tips the customers leave) are shared between whoever is working that particular shift, no matter who was doing what and however many hours they've worked. My share came to more than my official day's earnings. I'm liking this working life more and more every minute!
As an author, it's REALLY encouraging to know that there are people out there who are taking the time to read what's been written, and then bothering to send a response. So please do feel free to write to me at the email address given at the top of the chapter. I welcome all comments and guarantee to write back. PJ
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