"I'm scared," Larry said to the lad sharing his bed, but unlike the many other times the cherubic boy had said that to him, his lover sensed that this was different. Larry was weakening, his fear being mitigated by the sweet caressing that Dylan had been giving him for the better part of an hour.
The sheets were soggy and the two boys were both glistening with sweat as they had explored each other's bodies. Dylan had been after Larry for the last few weeks with one thing in mind, but although Larry had given his classmate everything else a man could give his love except one, the plump chub's resistance was waining.
One part may have been the fear of losing Dylan, as he had hinted at the last two times they had been together, and the other may have been the fact that Larry was about ready to explode from the teasing Dylan had been giving to him.
In fact, Dylan's hand was cramping up on him, the result of stroking Larry's thick stub to the brink of orgasm countless times, only to back off when Larry appeared ready to erupt. Dylan's other hand, or at least two fingers of it, had been corkscrewing into the plump bottom he had craved, hitting all the right spots and making Larry crazy in the process.
"I won't hurt you," Dylan whispered as he nibbled on Larry's neck, and although that was probably not true, he would be as gentle as he could be given the size of his manhood.
It was that very organ that had been the way into Larry's heart, because there was no way that the two of them could find themselves together otherwise. Dylan was the son of a single mother who had been deserted long ago by the boy's father, and while she did the best she could, the lived on a shoestring.
Larry, on the other hand, lived in comparative luxury. His father owned a small chain of hardware stores, and did well enough to afford a trophy wife, along with the resources to spoil his only child.
Now that child, who might have been nearly 19 but was a spoiled brat, was about to lose his virginity to Dylan, who was only a month older than him. Larry had spent most of the school year drooling over Dylan because they were in the same gym class, and while it was obvious what Larry found appealing, Dylan's motives were different.
Even though Dylan had meager resources, he was an somewhat attractive lad who was painfully shy but when Larry did everything but drool on him in the showers after gym, he didn't have to make the first move.
Larry wasn't very attractive, being overweight and immature, but the more Dylan looked at his plump rear end, the more appetizing he became to Dylan. Larry was already in love, fascinated my the slender lad who was so very well endowed.
The time was at hand, and so was Dylan's cock, so hard that it was curling toward his flat stomach as he slathered lube on it while getting up to his knees and positioning the fleshy butterball for the taking. He had been in the very position Larry was in a couple of times with an older man, but this was going to be his first time on top.
"Don't put it all in Dylan," Larry whined. "It's way too big. Just put a little in this time."
"Relax," Dylan said as he cuddled up close to the fleshy ass, because Larry's blubbering was only making him more nervous, since this was all new to him as well.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Shit," Dylan mumbled after being startled by the booming voice behind them, and he didn't have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to.
Larry, after hearing the voice, moved so fast that you never would have believed a plump guy could move like that. After scrambling from under Dylan, he had flown over the side of the bed like a crab on speed, crying and begging forgiveness for what hadn't even happened yet.
"Sorry Daddy - he made me!" Larry whimpered from the other side of the bed, pulling sheets over himself and crying like a baby. "I didn't want to. I swear."
Daniel Mondello, Larry's father, just stood in the doorway and stared at the unkempt bed and the boy that was still kneeling on it. Dylan had grabbed a handful of the sheet that Larry hadn't managed to yank off the mattress and held it in front of his privates, but to his credit he didn't crawl and hide like his own boy had.
"Lucky I forgot something and had to come back for it," Mr. Mondello had said after his son had whined that he wasn't supposed to be back until after midnight. "I think I interrupted something pretty vile. Isn't that right son?"
The skinny kid kneeling on the bed shrugged his shoulders, and after a moment of awkward silence Mr. Mondello suggested maybe it was time for Dylan to leave.
Dylan climbed off the bed and turned his back to Larry's father and looked for his underwear, which Larry had peeled off frantically as soon as they got into the bedroom. He couldn't find them, so he just slipped on his sweatpants and pulled on his t-shirt, and after mumbling an apology, slid past Larry's father and hurried out the door.
"Stop blubbering," Mr. Mondello said, frustrated that his only son had turned out to be such a Mama's boy, dreading the day when he would have over the family business to him. "Act like a man for once. I'll deal with you later."
***
"Son," Mr. Mondello yelled out the car window as he pulled up alongside the shadowy figure walking down the road. "Hop in. I'll give you a ride."
"Uh - that's okay," Dylan mumbled, but Daniel Mondello wasn't the kind to take no for an answer.
"Come on. I'm not going to kill you," Mr. Mondello assured him. "Want to have a talk with you."
Dylan went over to the car very tentatively, and only got in when he saw Larry's father was holding his underwear in his hand.
"Thought you might want these," Mr. Mondello said, handing them over to Dylan, who stuffed them in the pocket of his sweat pants. "Probably chilly without them - too chilly to walk home."
"Um - I live - it's a left turn," Dylan said, and Daniel Mondello smiled when he saw the panicked look on his passengers face, a look that showed even more concern when the loud click locked the doors of the Mercedes Benz.
"Going to make a stop first," the older man said, reaching over and patting the lad's knee while driving the opposite direction. "Relax, son. You're acting like I'm going to kill you or something."
"About back at your house," Dylan blurted out nervously. "I know you're mad. Larry said you were going to be out all night, and I swear - I wasn't making him do anything."
"Don't you think I know that - what's your name again? Dylan?"
"Yes."
"Are you 18, Dylan?" the older man asked, and when Dylan said no he yanked his hand off of the boy's knee like it was radioactive.
"I'm 19 sir. Just turned 19 last week."