I know an update is long overdue, but I have been swamped like Prince Humperdinck. Nothing in real life is letting up, so blogging is on the back burner. Strange Bedfellows wallows in the mire of edits, the Windshield Incident Pt. 2 needs to be formatted and the cover made, and in the meantime I wrote a nasty little short that I will post in pieces. Now you've been updated. Bye.Caleb walked in when I was reading the newspaper. I heard him say goodbye to Archer, but I had reckoned they were both going out the front door. Otherwise I might have put on a pair of shorts and a shirt, rather than sit there on the couch with my dick half-hanging out of my boxers. Then again, since Caleb’s footsteps stopped a full minute before I peered over the paper at him, I might not have.
He seemed to remember himself then, lifting his gaze quickly and giving me a nervous smile. “Hey, Mr. Kelly. I was just putting my glass in the kitchen.”
“All right.” I crossed my leg and turned a page. Caleb knew where everything was. The kid had practically grown up in this house, though as a long-haul driver I didn’t see much of him. My wife, Brittany, said he was a good kid. Quiet, a good friend to our rowdy son.
Caleb hadn’t moved.
Without lowering the paper I asked, “Do you need something, Caleb?”
“Uh, yes sir. I mean, no, sir.”
I really looked at him then. He was probably close to nineteen now, with a typical teenager’s lean build. Average height, with light brown hair that he parted on the side, straight nose and slightly ruddy cheeks, Caleb was the fresh-faced boy scout type who probably kept fit by mowing old ladies’ lawns. He was cute because he managed to be free of acne at his age, and had big, soulful eyes that I was just noticing because they seemed fascinated by my crotch. And just think: until two minutes ago I would have described Caleb as boring.
“Come here for a second,” I suggested calmly. Caleb set his glass on the kitchen table and came to stand in front of the couch. “Take a seat.”
Caleb glanced around him for a second, clearly confused that I had indicated the floor in front of me rather than a chair. He sat, though, crossing his legs with his hands in his lap.
“Caleb.” I set the newspaper aside.
“Why were you staring at my dick?”
A wash of red colored his face and his eyes widened. “I-I wasn’t—”
“You were. Could you see it from there?”
Caleb’s pink mouth opened, but for a moment no sound escaped. “N-no.”
“Tell me the truth, Caleb.”
His gaze dropped to the floor and he squirmed uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he mumbled softly.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Mr. Kelly.”
That made my dick twitch, and from the Caleb’s quick glance upward—the poor kid couldn’t help himself—he noticed. “So you were staring at my dick,” I restated. Caleb nodded pitifully. “Tell me why.”
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” The big, soft, blue eyes met mine. “I think you do know why, Caleb. What made you stare at it? Do you think it’s big?”
He seemed relieved to have that option. “Yes, sir.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been told that before. It’s okay for you to notice. But—” It was so good to see the panic return to his boyish face. “—that doesn’t explain why you stopped and looked for so long. There must have been something else you were thinking, Caleb. What was on your mind?”
Uncrossing my leg, I leaned forward. “You wanted something, Caleb. Fill in the blank. You wanted to…what? Touch it? Smell it? Taste it? Find out if your hand could wrap around it? So how much longer it is when it’s hard?”
“The, um,” Caleb cleared his throat, “the last…one.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “You could always just ask, Caleb,” I said. “Do you want to ask me, or do you want to find out for yourself?”
He didn’t answer.
I pointed at Archer’s room. “There’s a ruler in Archer’s desk. Go get it and bring it here.”
There was a good chance when Caleb got up that he would think better of the situation and go home. I would be labeled as a pervert, etcetera, and my son would never talk to me again. However, Caleb was rattling things around in Archer’s room, and had returned with ruler in hand in less than sixty seconds. He seemed slightly out of breath.
“I found it,” he informed me.
Was this kid for real? “Good job,” I replied, and I could almost see his tail wagging. A tail, that was an idea. There was probably one of those in the toy drawer still…”Go ahead, Caleb.”
I leaned back. “If you’re going to measure it, then measure it.”
Keeling between my legs, Caleb licked his lips nervously and reached for my boxers. His fingers trembled when they met the fabric, and Caleb gingerly opened the fly to find my cock. Trembling even more, Caleb grasped it with only two fingers as if it were going to come to life and bite him. His brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly he pulled it free of my underwear, and when the head finally emerged he just looked at it.
“It’s not hard, is it, Caleb.”
“No, sir,” he replied.
“But you wanted to measure it when it’s hard, right? Why don’t you solve that problem?”
Caleb responded with an obedient nod, and began to jerk my cock with slow, deliberate strokes. The subservience was as hot as the shaky grip on my shaft, and I was completely hard in record time. Letting go, Caleb sat back and admired his handiwork, watching the way my dick pulsed with the blood pumping through it. When he did put the ruler next to it he gasped.
I stifled a laugh. “How long is it, Caleb?”
“Ten inches,” he answered, and repeated more quietly, “ten inches.”
I shrugged. “Well, there you have it. Now are you satisfied, or do you want to play with it some more?”