Sam arrived early for his date with Patrick, and found a pillar to lean against, as he waited for his dream boy to arrive. Watching the movie -goers, Sam was struck by the realization that they were all young - either young families or teens; it seemed the film industry was indeed focused on a younger target audience. Sam took the opportunity to ogle the teens as they went past, oblivious to his viewing, or at least he hoped. He kept checking his watch, as the hour approached seven; Pat had ten minutes to arrive before Sam declared him late. He hoped that Pat was serious about their date, and wasn't going to stand him up, but he was prepared to be disappointed. He flipped out his blackberry, checking to see if he had any messages, in case Pat was running late; but there were none. At two minutes to seven, Sam decided that if Pat didn't show up by seven fifteen, he'd just leave. The last thing he wanted was to miss the boy, but he also didn't want to stand around all night for nothing. If Pat didn't contact him by the time he'd set, then that would be it, he decided. Sam was suddenly shaken from his observing of the young crowd, and his obsessing about the time, by a familiar voice.
"Hey, what's with the fancy pants?" Pat joked, as he found Sam standing alone by a pillar, wearing kakis and a long sleeve button-down shirt.
"Oh, Pat ... just on time; excellent," Sam greeted, as his concerns about being stood up evaporated. The boy was dressed in a T –shirt and skinny-legged jeans. They hung on his hips with a wide belt, making him look very casual. Sam didn't have any expectations that Pat was going to dress up, but he felt that the kid could have at least put on a nicer shirt.
Sam allowed Pat to select a film, and then paid for the tickets, without even thinking about it. Pat had chosen an action flick, likely with lots of explosions, but it didn't matter to Sam which film they saw, as long as he could be with Pat. The boy headed for the concession stand, as Sam headed for the theatre entrance. Sam never bought anything in the theatre, with their inflated prices, but it never occurred to him that Pat was expecting something.
"You want anything?" Pat asked, as he slowly walked backwards toward the concession line.
"No, thanks. Here, let me give you some money," Sam responded, as he pulled his wallet from his pants pocket. He knew that Pat wasn't going to get away with spending anything less than ten bucks.
"I got money," Pat snapped, at the suggestion of needing someone to pay for his popcorn. He knew that Sam was just being nice, but it seemed insulting to be offered cash in public.
Once he'd gotten his popcorn, Pat joined Sam at the podium, where the usher was taking tickets. It was an older guy, likely the manager, that took the slip from Sam, and tore it in half. Handing it back, he said,
"You and your son enjoy the movie, sir."
Pat chuckled, as he beamed a big smile at Sam. He was excited about having a friend to go to the movies with, but wondered what it would have been like to have had a father growing up. Now that Sam had been mistaken for his, it caused Pat to think of Sam in that light. It did irritate him when Sam treated him like he was a kid that needed to be picked up, or have someone give him money, but it also made him feel special to have an older person pay attention to him. The comment from the manager just made Sam look even more awesome in Pat's eyes.
Sam took the opportunity to run his hand along Pat's back in a possessively affectionate way. He felt the warmth of his young body under the T-shirt, and longed to put it against the kid's skin. Pat didn't object, and seemed to play along with the father/son myth. Sam wasn't really offended by the comment; after all, Pat did look young; someone could easily think their age gap was wider than it was in reality.
The film was, as expected, full of violence, as the main character had a machine gun that seemingly never ran out of ammunition. Pat was engrossed in the movie, but Sam just enjoyed the boy's reaction, soaking up his excitement. He hoped that Pat was enjoying being with him, as much he was enjoying the film. When the movie ended, Sam once again ran his hand along Pat's back, as they stood up; this time higher, ending up with a gentle squeeze on the boy's neck. Sam didn't linger, lest Pat object to the contact.
"So you want to get a coffee or head back to my place?" Sam suggested, as casually as he could, once they were outside the theatre. He desperately hoped that Pat would come home with him. After spending social time with the boy, he was focused on bedding him, although he checked his expectations; after all, this wasn't a porn film.
"Can't; I gotta catch the bus. My sister gets pissed if I'm home too late," Pat explained, with some embarrassment. He was nineteen years old, and still under a curfew.
"I'll drive you home. You can always crash at my place, if your sister doesn't want you coming in late," Sam offered, hoping that the boy's objection was simply logistics.
"You don't have to drive me," Pat dismissed. He'd traveled the city by bus for years now; there was no reason that he needed someone to drive him.
"I want to drive you home...," Sam said directly, "now, if you want, or in the morning." Sam knew that having Pat sleep over was unlikely on the first date, but he really hoped to get him home and move things along. The idea of having Pat was making him semi-erect.
Pat had sleepovers before, and his sister would likely be ok with it, but he hadn't been invited in years.
"We'll go to the Second Cup, and then I'll drive you home," Sam suggested, as he noticed how quiet Pat had suddenly gotten. He wasn't sure if it was a sudden realization, or if perhaps he was just pressuring the kid. Either way, he'd given him an out, but Sam still longed to hear Pat tell him that he'd rather come back to his place.
"Ok, we'll do that," Pat agreed. He liked Sam, and didn't want him to be upset; but by letting the man drive him, he could still be home on time.
After chatting, mostly about the movie, at the coffee shop, Pat directed Sam to his sister's house. It wasn't too far away, but was in the opposite direction from Sam's house. The man drove off the main street, and stopped at a fair-sized older house.
Sam felt that being subtle with Pat wasn't working; he was going to have to get more direct with the kid, but he feared that if he pushed too hard he could lose him.
"I want to take you out again," he said directly, as Pat opened the car door.
"Ok," Pat replied, as he got out. He had enjoyed himself, and very much wanted to be friends with Sam. "Can we go to a baseball game? I haven't been in years – since my mom got sick," Pat requested.
"Of course; let me know when," Sam agreed, as he held out his hand. He'd much rather get a kiss, but a handshake was going to have to do for tonight.
Pat reached in with his left hand, and squeezed Sam's right hand gently. It was awkward, as Sam couldn't shake the boy's `wrong' hand; so he passively allowed the kid to squeeze his, extending his fingers along the boy's thin wrist.
"You're so cute," Sam gushed, without really thinking about what he was saying. Staring into Pats brown eyes, he'd just lost himself again.
Pat smiled, and flicked his long hair, as he took his hand back and closed the car door. Pat waved, and trotted up to the front door of his house, as Sam waited. Once the kid was in, he drove off, feeling rather satisfied at the evening events. He hoped now that they'd gotten through the initial nerves, he could move things along quickly.
"So, who's this friend that's taking you to the baseball game?" Cindy questioned, as Pat appeared, dressed in his team Jersey, a cherished gift from their mother. It was a bit tight on him now, and a little worn, but Patrick had kept it in great condition.
"Sam, the guy from the gym," Pat replied, irritated. He told her already, and he didn't like the idea that anyone had to take him anywhere; he was going with a friend.
"Tard's got a friend," Dan mumbled from the living room, the place he usually parked himself on Saturday afternoons.
"What?" Pat called from the dining room, having not heard his sister's boyfriend clearly.
"Have a good time, buddy," Dan said loudly.
Cindy gently pulled Pat by the arm, deeper into the dinning room, back to the computer niche, wanting to speak to her adopted brother in private.
"So how are you getting there?" she asked softly.
Pat sighed. He wasn't the smartest guy in the world, and he sometimes didn't get things the first time around, but he was way too old to be treated like a little kid.
"I'm taking the bus to the mall, and Sam's driving us from there," he blurted.
"Is this the same guy you've been out with every Saturday this month?" Cindy asked, in a soft caring voice.
"Yesssss," Pat hissed.
"He has his own car?" she pressed, trying to get an idea of who had captivated her `little brother'.
"Ah, yeah!" Pat snapped, thinking that Cindy was trying to mother him.
"How old is this guy?" Cindy asked, getting around to the real question.
"I don't know exactly; forty something," Pat said, lowering his voice and tone, as he figured this might be an issue for her. Pat had tried making friends his own age, but that always ended badly; older people just seemed nicer to him.
"You're ok going out with someone that much older than you?" Cindy pressed.
"Sure," Pat said curtly.
"It's just that this is your first adult relationship, Patrick; you might not realize what your friend expects from you," Cindy explained, knowing that Patrick was often oblivious of the subtle things, especially in social situations. As a young teen, Patrick was often befriended, only to find himself in awkward or embarrassing situations that he simply couldn't handle.
"So?" Pat replied, as he looked at his watch. The last thing he wanted was to miss his bus and be late.
"So you've been going out for a month now; he's going to want to have sex pretty soon, and I want you to be safe," Cindy replied softly, knowing that this would be a big step for the nineteen year old. He wasn't stupid, but his learning disability had delayed him socially, as well, so she knew he wasn't expecting her assumption.
"Sex?" Pat snapped loudly, as his expression showed revulsion, although what he felt was embarrassment.
"Patrick, you haven't had a girlfriend since grade two, and any friends that you have had were all guys," Cindy explained softly. What she didn't add...was that she'd found videos of men, masturbating, on her computer, and she was pretty sure Dan hadn't downloaded them. She wondered if Pat had video'd himself doing that, with her web cam, and if he'd really met this Sam guy online.
"So," Pat mumbled, as his face turned red. This was getting to be too much; all he wanted to do was go.
"I just want you to be safe, honey; you're old enough to know what you want; just don't let him pressure you, and practice safe sex," Cindy explained.
Pat was so embarrassed to hear his sister say the word `sex'. He was sure that Sam was just his friend, and not interested in him that way.
"I took health class," Pat snorted, as he grabbed his key and made for the door.
Thankfully, he arrived at the arranged Mall entrance before Sam. Sam had offered to pick him up, but he didn't want to seem like a burden. Pat heard a horn honk a couple of times, and then realized the man in a black SUV was waving at him. As he approached the vehicle, he could clearly see that Sam was in the driver's seat.
"You have two cars?" Pat blurted, as he got into the passenger side
"Hi, there," Sam greeted his beautiful boy, who was dressed in his baseball jersey, although, with Pat's longish hair, he looked more like a hockey player.
"Hi," Pat sighed, as he put on his seat belt.
"Yes, I have two cars. I don't like taking the Porche anywhere it might be scratched, like a tight parking lot, and I need an SUV for the winter, or for when I have to deliver stuff to my clients; but I usually get all that drop-shipped," Sam explained, as he drove.
Sam pulled up to a stop light, and reached over to squeeze Pat's forearm. The boy seemed quiet for some reason. Sam badly wanted to hold Pat's hand, but he worried how the boy might react; especially since they were sort of in public. He went for it anyway, and gripped the boy's hand, before even thinking about it.
"It's great to be with you again," Sam gushed, as he looked at the smiling youthful face.
As the light changed, Sam broke the grasp and returned to driving. He found it odd that Pat hadn't said anything, and figured that he'd push things along.
"It's great to be with you, too, Sam," Sam said, in a poor attempt to imitate the boy's voice.
Pat looked over with a smirk, and then gripped the man's firm bicep. "It's great to be with you, too, Sam," he repeated, hoping the man wasn't making fun of him. He really did like spending time with Sam; he just felt comfortable with the man, and the connection they had seemed real, but Pat did remember how kids at school pretended to his friend.
At the stadium, Sam presented the tickets, and walked Pat down to their seats, possessively touching the young man's shoulder as they went. Pat was surprised to be so close to the field, and then wondered how much Sam had paid to get such good seats. After the talk with Cindy, he considered that the man might be trying to buy his way into his pants. Pat masturbated, like all guys, and had seen people having sex on the internet, but had never done it with anyone. He liked Sam, and did think the man had a great body. He sighed, as he was still angry at Cindy. Now she had him thinking his only friend was just in it for the sex.
"You seem tense, Pat," Sam stated, as he ran his hand across his friend's back, when the boy leaned forward in the seat.
"I'm just watching the game," Pat said, as he sat back, looking at the hand on his shoulder.
Sam withdrew it, knowing that it was too much in a crowded stadium, even if they were assumed to be father and son. The rest of the game, Pat remained focused on the play, talking about scores and averages, providing far more information than Sam thought the boy knew, and much more than he wanted to hear. Still, he patiently feigned interest, as he watched the young man return to his normal state.
After the game, the chatting continued, as Sam secretly drove home without telling his young friend where they were going. Each time he'd invited the boy back to his place, he always came up with an excuse not to come, but, this time, Sam wasn't planning to give him an option. As the SUV came to a stop, the boy broke from his post-game analysis.
"This isn't my house," he stated the obvious, thinking Sam must be lost, not that he'd asked to be driven home, but that had become their pattern after going out.
"No, it's mine," Sam stated flatly.
"Oh, I can just take the bus from here," Pat offered, not wanting to ask the man to drive more than he had; it seemed too much of an imposition.
"We're in front of my house; don't tell me you're not going to come in?" Sam spat, with a heavier tone than he wanted. He was frustrated that Pat wasn't getting the idea of moving things along, and wondered if the kid was just playing him; that he might have no intention beyond being taken out every Saturday.
"I guess we could," Pat almost whispered, as he wondered what he'd done to make the man angry.
Sam immediately wanted to take back what he'd said; it was far too aggressive, and if the damn kid wanted things at his own dawdling pace, then he really shouldn't push.
"Pat, would you like to come in for a drink?" Sam asked, the way he should have in the first place, hoping he'd be forgiven for his prior tone.
"Ok," Pat sighed.
Sam jumped out of the car and headed for the door, hoping Pat had followed. He knew this was an important step for their relationship, even if he had to push it. The boy had followed, Sam noticed, as he turned to press the remote lock on his car key fob. He pushed the door wide open, and gestured Pat inside.
"What would you like? A beer?" Sam offered, as he flipped on the lights.
Pat had had beer before, with Dan, even before he was legally entitled, but he didn't want to prolong his stay at the man's house, as he was beginning to realize that Cindy might be right about Sam's expectations.
"Water's good," Pat replied, as he walked around the room, examining the pictures and knickknacks.
"I have pop, iced tea; I can even make coffee, if you'd like," Sam suggested.
Pat looked back over his shoulder, as he half turned, in a cute pose, considering the new options.
"Yeah, I know; I really do make coffee at home," Sam replied, thinking the boy didn't believe him, given how often they went out for the beverage. In fact, Pat was just considering his options, and wasn't being purposely bashful.
"Iced tea, please," Pat replied.
Sam came out of the kitchen, and handed the boy his beverage, as he set his own cola on the table. He realized the boy was looking at a photo of a younger version of himself on a racing bike.
"I used to race dirt bikes," Sam informed, as he came up directly behind Pat.
"Wow! That's cool! You still have it?" Pat asked excitedly.
"No, I sold it ages ago. I'm sure I could rent or borrow some, if you wanted to go sometime," Sam suggested, as he gripped Pat in a hug from behind. The warm body against his own was wonderful, but he was careful not to hold him too hard.
"Do you need a license?" Pat wondered, knowing that he'd never be able to get one, without Sam's help, of course.
"No, it's an off road motorbike," Sam explained, as he gently rocked Pat side to side. Sam wanted to reach down and squeeze the boy's cock, hoping it would be hard, but he dared not, lest the timid creature run from the house. Whether he liked it or not, this was going to have to be at Pat's pace.
The feeling was warm for Pat as well; no one had really hugged him for such an extended period, since his mother had, but that was years ago, now. He liked Sam, his protector and friend. He felt the man nuzzling at his neck, and the firm object poking him near his ass, and knew it wasn't the man's zipper.
Pat leaned forward and broke free of the embrace, intentionally not looking at the man's assumed erection under his pants.
Pat stood silently, as Sam refused to break the moment. He wanted the boy to make the next move, hoping it would lead to a night of passion. He looked into Pat's deep brown eyes, and thought he saw the lust he so felt himself. He took a step forward, impatiently. Pat gently put his hands on the man's biceps. He wasn't pushing Sam away, but he seemed to symbolically indicate that he shouldn't come any closer.
"I really should be going; it's late," Pat said softly.
"Stay," Sam almost whispered.
"You just want to get me naked," Pat accused, half jokingly, with a smile.
"I've seen you naked, Pat; you're beautiful," Sam said, holding his hushed tone, hoping he was mesmerizing his boy.
"I'm not," Pat said, looking away, embarrassed that the man thought he was the attractive one; he was just a skinny teen with big ears.
After a long silence, Sam finally relented. "Ok, I'll take you home."
Sam drove the boy home in silence. Once in front of Pat's house, Sam leaned over slightly, and said, "Do I get a goodnight kiss?"
Pat was taken aback by the idea; he'd never kissed anyone, except for his mother and sister, and that, as well, was years ago. Pat instinctively licked his wonderful lips, and leaned toward the man. As their lips met, Sam held Pat by the back of the head, extending the kiss beyond what Pat had expected, but released him before any sign of panic set in.
"Bye," Pat blurted, and was then out of the car.
Sam wasn't sure if they'd made it to first base, or if Patrick was running to urgently rinse out his mouth. As he drove away, he desperately hoped it was the former, and that they would now move quickly around the field.
Some of you have asked about the origin of the story so I wanted to let you know that it is a complete work of fiction. Please feel free to continuing contacting me with questions or comments Vlad885 (at) hotmail.com