This is an adapted excerpt from a longer piece of fiction. The complete work tells the story of young Carey Sterling who, at the age of 20, has already experienced a wide range of sexually charged erotic experiences. This story picks up in the middle of the longer narrative when Carey is 18 years old. Please send me an email if you would like more information.
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Just after high school graduation Carey came down with Mono. He spent nearly two weeks in a feverish headache like fog. Dry cough, sore throat. No fun, to say the least.
At the end of the worst stretch, he finally got up enough energy to take a shower. Standing naked in the steamy bathroom, he surveyed the disease's damage. As bad as he felt, he didn't look all that different. 18 years old, about 5'10," 135 pounds. Slender bordering on skinny. Brown eyes. Fair skin indicative of his Anglo/Irish/Danish/Scottish mutt background. Light brown, kind of taupe-ish, cut short and neat, parted on the side. Hair slightly over his ears, short bangs. A wide nose but still not very big. Thin lips. Narrow square jaw. No beard. Down below, pinkish, brown nipples, small chest, soft indentation in the middle. Narrow hips. Twisting around, he checked out his bare ass. Round and tight. One of his better features. Smooth skin except for a round mole that lined up perfectly, just above his butt crack. Turning to face the mirror, he realized his cock was at half mast. Whew! Still worked! Six inches when erect. Average. Fluffing up his sparse tan pubic hair with one hand, he gave his balls a slight squeeze with the other. Suddenly, feeling tired and chilled, he finished up and went back to bed.
Carey endured several more weeks of low energy and fatigue. He stumbled around the house in between long naps during the day and 12-hour deep sleeps at night.
When he felt up to it, Carey started taking some short walks. His doctor told him to go only as far as he could and still leave enough gas in the tank to get back home. The first two journeys were only a few blocks. Returning home, he collapsed on the couch.
"Whatta you lookn' at?" The boy said with a sneer. He looked up at Carey squinting through greasy hair that covered most of his face.
He had encountered the boy on one of his more extended walks. Feeling better over the past few days, Carey's walks took him farther from home. Just beyond his neighborhood, he walked along a tree lined boulevard with a grassy median separating the opposing lanes of traffic. Approaching an intersection, Carey crossed two lanes of traffic pausing briefly at the median where a homeless man and a boy were stationed at the traffic signal.
Wearing shabby looking clothes, the man held a coffee can and a cardboard sign that read, "Lost our home please help my family." A small red cooler sat at his feet.
Carey had noticed him even before he started crossing the street. The boy sat on the ground near the cooler. Knees drawn up to his chest, his long straggly, dirty blond hair fell almost completely over his face. Once in awhile he would raise his head and look at a car or off in the distance. From what Carey could see, he had narrow almond shaped eyes, thin lips, and a small pointed chin. Not just thin; more like emaciated. Skinny arms crossed over his knees and his head face down into his lap as though he was sleeping. He wore faded and dirty jeans, a ragged striped t-shirt and dirty runners devoid of laces. In spite of the cloud of grime covering him and the scornful expression, Carey was intrigued. He seemed to possess unique kind of unadorned beauty.
Embarrassed by getting caught staring at the boy, Carey dropped a quarter into the man's coffee can and continued walking across the street.
"Thank you," the man mumbled.
Feeling stronger and more invigorated, Carey took a walk to a nearby lake a few days later. The asphalt path wound its away around the lake in a pleasant manner, touching the lake shore in spots and pulling back through woods in other areas. As he walked the trail, he noticed a barely visible narrow dirt path. It led off through thick foliage in the direction of the lake. Pushing bushes and low hanging tree branches away he trudged down the path for a couple of hundred feet until it opened onto a small clearing facing the lake.
Carey looked around. The spot was completely secluded from view on either side. The small lake was void of any activity. He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and took a deep breath.
For the first time in weeks, he thought about sex. His favorite jerk off fantasy entered his mind. The image of a large black cock pressing itself into his ass gave Carey an immediate erection. His fingers brushed lightly against the front of his jeans. In his mind, the faceless Black man's naked hips thrust forward as he punched his cock into Carey's ass.
Checking to make sure no one was around, Carey pulled his shirt over his head. Standing up, he kicked his shoes and socks off, followed by pants and underwear. Completely naked, he took his throbbing cock in one hand, caressed his chest with the other, and began to masturbate.
