Thank you some much for reading my stories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them.
Thank you to Incredimeters for all your editing help.
My name is Travis Kelce, yes like the football player. Go Chiefs! Unlike the football player, I am 19 years old, five feet six inches tall, and maybe 120 lbs. I played baseball in high school. I was a pitcher. I have brown hair and brown eyes and all of my ancestors came from England. In short, I am a plain, corn-stock, white boy.
I couldn't believe that my parents were making me get a summer job. I clean my room. I do my chores. I even finished on the dean's list in the first year at my local community college. I mean what the hell else do they want? As it would turn out, manual labor.
While my friends were all off chasing girls, playing video games, and sleeping in till noon every day, I had to work. "It'll build character," they said. "You'll earn money for school," they said. "Besides, Carl needs the help. He can't ever find any good workers," they said.
That last one was a pretty low blow. Carl Khan is our next-door neighbor. Carl's five foot nine and about 200 pounds. His chosen profession has given him large arms and a strong back. He had brown hair and brown eyes like me but is Indian and so it looks like he has a permanent suntan. Carl was like a second father to me. The guy gave me my first bike. He taught me how to throw a slider. He even gave me my first sip of beer and only laughed a little when it made me throw up. They knew I would do anything to help him out.
So, the next day found myself up at dawn dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a lunch bag in one hand and a pair of gloves in my other. Carl owned a two-man and a truck moving company. I was to be the second guy in the truck. "If you need to move it, we can do it." Mostly local stuff but a few long-distance loads from time to time. I walk up onto his porch as I had done a hundred times and knocked on the door.
"Morning, Mr. Khan," I said with a smile.
Carl looked left and then looked right. "Who, are you talking to, Travis," he asked.
"You," I answered puzzled.
"I'm not Mr. Khan. I'm Carl."
"I know. I know. I just figure that since you're going to be my boss and all, I should call you Mr. Khan." I explained.
"Nobody calls me anything but Carl, Travis. You know that. I don't want that to change, Cool?"
"Cool," I said with a smile.
Carl grabbed his lunch bag and a clipboard and called over his shoulder to his wife, "heading out Riya."
We got in the truck and he threw the clipboard on the dashboard. Then he turned to me. "Ok, cards on the table. When I said something to your dad about needing help, I never dreamed he would send you. I do need the help but if you want, I can just drop you off at a friend's house and pick you up on the way home and I'll tell your dad you were with me all day."
See what I mean? Is this guy the greatest or what? "No Carl. If you need help, I'm happy to help."
"Cool." He started the truck and we were off.
By the end of the day, I knew how that guy in Greek mythology must have felt, the one who rolled the rock up the hill just to see it roll back down. We loaded things in his truck then we unloaded things out of the truck. By midday I was sore. My muscles were screaming stop, stop please stop. No more.
I was leaning against the wall inside the truck and Carl came up behind me. "The first days are the hardest." He said as he began to rub my shoulders.
It felt so good and with the aid of an energy drink, we made it through the day. I got back in the truck and sat down heavily. We had a 30-minute drive home ahead of us. "I'm so proud of you," Carl said. "Oh, and I forgot to tell you the springs in the seat are better over here away from the door."
I slid over closer to him. The drive home started just like normal but then out of the blue Carl reached over and put his hand on my leg. I didn't know what to do. I was totally shocked. Then I was in denial. Maybe he was just trying to help me loosen my leg muscles up or something.
He did start rubbing my leg and suddenly an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies were in my stomach. My dick came alive of its own accord and was growing by the second. At the next stoplight, he looked over at me and then down at my leg, and then back and me. If he was trying to ask something I didn't understand but he took my silence as an ok, because as the light turned green his hand moved up my inner thigh.
His hand slowly moved up my thigh and he was just about to my crotch when we pulled into his driveway. He took his hand off my leg and turned off the truck.
"See that wasn't so bad." I didn't know if he meant the day or the ride home. He didn't stay in the truck long enough for me to ask.
"Thanks for all your help, Travis. Same time tomorrow?"
"Yes sir," I said automatically still in shock a little bit.
"Travis?"
"Yes sir," I repeated.
I was still just sitting in the truck. "If you're too tired to walk in, I can have your mom bring your dinner out here?"
"No," I answered my brain still a little fuzzy, and walked into my house.
I was in a daze the rest of the night. I was so tired I just wanted to go to sleep. My mom said I had to eat and I had to take a shower. I needed food and I was not allowed to dirty up the sheets. She spent all day cleaning and wouldn't let me slide.
I was even too tired to jack off which for me meant I was pretty tired. I kept telling myself Carl didn't mean anything by touching me. He was just rubbing my leg to make it feel better. My brain however had other ideas. It replayed the ride home with Carl in my dreams. This time around, however, I was completely naked and every time we stopped at a light we kissed.
The beep, beep, beep of my alarm woke me up at 5:50 and I almost went back to sleep, but then I got up. This sucked. Dad didn't start work til nine. I put on my uniform of jeans and a white t-shirt and headed for the kitchen. I scarfed a snack bar and drank a big glass of water. Mom had made my lunch the night before and dad had put my gloves by the bag.
