This story takes place during the Winter of 1970.
***
I suppose I should have felt guilty given the things that were going through my mind as I looked at my young guest sitting next to me on the couch, staring at the pornographic magazine in open-mouthed wonder, but I didn't.
Young Preston Phillips III was the young fellow who, along with his mother had lived next door to me for the last ten years or so. The lad in question was hypnotized by the graphic photos of the men and women in the pictures. I was amused by the way he was trying hard to not let me see how interested he was in the other magazines on the coffee table, the ones that didn't have women in them.
Preston was gay, although I doubted his mother knew it. She was too occupied with her own life, and since her husband had moved out seemed determined to do as little mothering as possible. Recently she had been sending Preston to some high class prep school, on her ex-husband's dime no doubt, so she could fuck every swinging dick within reach and not have to worry about her kid catching her.
That was probably a good thing too, because having this little cutie next door all the time would be way too tempting for a horny old guy like me. This boy - or should I say man, because somehow in testimony to how time seems to fly when you get older, the kid had somehow become 18. Preston also happened to be the sweetest little twink I had ever seen.
He was the spitting image of the actor that played Dennis the Menace on that television show, cowlick and all. Naturally blonde hair and a dimple on the chin, Preston probably didn't pack more than 125 pounds on what looked to be no more than a 5'6" frame. He was adorable, and the fact that he was an adult, at least chronologically, made my thoughts legal even if they were naughty.
Preston had come over here to help me clean out the cellar, and it was his mother that had offered her son's services to me, after I inquired whether she knew of anybody in the neighborhood interested in doing some odd jobs.
"My Preston will be home for the holidays next week," his old lady informed me, and she seemed exceptionally delighted to volunteer her son for the work.
"Great!" I had said, inside thinking what a bullshit mother she was, trying to get rid of the kid during the little period of time he was actually around.
He was a pleasant enough lad, very straight-laced compared to much of his generation, neat and well-groomed unlike many of his contemporaries who sported long hair and bad manners. While I worked along with Preston, I tried to imagine what this little twink would look like with his clothes off.
How Preston ended up on the couch looking at my dirty magazines was even easier than I had hoped. I "accidentally" unearthed the stash of porn, and after assuring Preston that I didn't mind if he looked at them, he jumped at the chance.
"Just don't tell your mother about this," I said.
"I'm 18, Mr. Roland," Preston said.
"Still, I don't think she would appreciate me letting you look at this stuff," I had told Preston while sitting next to him on the couch. "So let's just keep this between ourselves."
"Yes sir," young Preston said as he looked over the top of the magazine he was holding to keep looking at the cover of the magazine I had positioned on top of the pile, called Bears and Cubs.
"Wish I had magazines like this," Preston said as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, no mean feat because it wasn't all that warm. "Could I - you know - borrow some of them?"
"Now what would you with them?"
"You know, read them. I'd bring them back, Mr. Roland. I promise."
"I'm sure you would," I said. "What I mean is, what would you do with them? Something tells me that you would bring them up to your bedroom, lock the door and masturbate. Am I right?"
Preston looked at me like he had been struck by lightning, astonished that I could have read the mind of a horny teenager so easily, but when he saw me smiling he gave a nervous chuckle and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
"At school do you have a roommate?" I asked, and when he nodded I smiled.
"Something tells me that you've already found out that it's a lot more fun to have somebody else do it to you than to do it yourself, am I right?"
Preston gasped, not so much at my words but at the feel my hand on his knee, and as I gently squeezed his bony leg I made a suggestion.
"Why don't you pick out a couple then?" I said.
Preston lurched forward and went through the pile, but I wasn't all that happy with what he selected because I knew if I wasn't looking his choices would have been different.
"Preston?" I said softly. "Take the ones that you really want. It's okay."
Now sweat was beginning to trickle down the sides of his face and the hands that held the magazines were trembling noticeably.
"It's okay," I repeated in a soothing and as fatherly a tone as I could, and after he swallowed hard he set down the straight magazines and picked up the ones he really wanted to look at.
"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" I said, and as Preston opened the one with the two sailors on the cover my eyes went to the bulge in my young friend's khakis, noticing that something was definitely hard down there.
"And if you'd like, I'd love to save you a trip home," I said while moving my hand up to the lump. "It really is better when someone else does it for you."
Preston didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either, so as he stared at me in shock I undid his belt, unbuttoned his slacks and pulled his pants down below his knees, exposing the palest, skinniest and smoothest thighs I had ever seen.
As I undid the bottom buttons of his shirt and spread them apart, I was very surprised and quite pleased to see a very significant bulge in Preston's snug white briefs. I had been a bit apprehensive at what I wound find, because while I like my men young, I am not in the least interested in boys.
Therefore, I was delighted at what I exposed when I carefully pulled Preston's underwear down. Preston's cock, like the rest of him, was beautiful, and while his organ was slender it was surprisingly long, the 6 or 7" tube looking even bigger than that on his slight frame.
"Your cock is incredible, Preston," I sighed as I looked at his erection, which had arched back onto his belly after he leaned into the couch, exposing a sizable wrinkled and hairless sac that held his meaty balls. "Your roommate is a lucky guy."
Preston gave a nervous smile as I reached down and pulled his cock up from his stomach, the ghostly white circumcised prong as hard as blue steel. The skin on the underside of his cock was stretched taut, and a pearl of pre-cum had formed on the tip of his member.
Preston was going to cum any second judging by both the look on his face and the way this dick was pulsating in my hand, so I excused myself and found some lotion that I kept down here for such occasions.
On the couch, Preston was frozen in place, holding the magazine in front of himself while watching me move around the room, and when I rejoined the lad I squeezed out some lotion into my palm and started to coat his cock with the cool gel.
"OH!" Preston grunted as I began to slide my hand up and down the length of his manhood while pinching him hard to retard the orgasm that was bubbling under the surface.
"Mustn't cum too soon," I told him. "Anticipation makes it better."
"Can't - can't hold it."
"Sure you can," I told him. "Besides, I won't let you cum. Not yet, so just relax and enjoy it."
Five minutes later, Preston was slumped way down on the couch, looking so disheveled compared to the neat lad that had arrived at my house earlier. I made the hand job something he would never forget, slowly working over his throbbing cock while bringing him to the brink of orgasm time and time again before continually denying him the pleasure of release.
