Curious 50s Boy

By: David Divers
(© 2008-2009 by the author)
Edited by: Madison Cole

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 3

Once I finished mowing Johnny’s lawn that first day, we went in the house, got a coke, and then sat out on his front porch chatting quietly. He said, “You might have heard about child molesters, David, but I am not a child molester. Just like when I met you, I did nothing but invite you to lunch … I know your Mom or grandmother must have warned you about going off anywhere with strangers and all that. You knew that, but you still came along with me, even with a good idea of exactly what was going on, didn’t you? You may be under age, but you were not exactly an innocent child, were you?”

I replied, “I was almost sure of what you wanted. I have had these feelings inside of me since I was about twelve, and when I saw my chance, I had already made up my mind that I wanted to try to get a blowjob … but I didn’t want anything else to happen … some crazy man raping me in a vacant lot somewhere or something like that …I had no plans beyond that, except to cum without getting beaten up or maybe winding up dead.”

As you know by now, my knowledge of worldly things was strictly limited to the sketchy information that my friends and I passed around. Our world was confined to school, censored TV and sterilized movies, the comic strips or the sports pages in the newspaper, and lots of misinformation and rumors …We were innocents at worldly things. I had seen “True Detective” police magazines in the news stands but didn’t buy them. Most of my adult contact had been with teachers, Boy Scout leaders, and the grownups at church. So we all grew up relatively innocent … but still with what was called “dirty minds” …

Johnny said, “I am so glad you wanted to spend time with me. But let me tell you, David, you are some kind of beautiful kid … and I want to teach you everything that you are willing to learn. But you have to remember, too, that your whole body can experience pleasure, not just your stiff dick … and giving pleasure can be just as exciting as receiving it. You have given me so much pleasure already that, if it ended right now, I would still have a lifetime of memories of you. Just looking at you makes me want to eat you up! But there is so much learning more yet to come! It is sharing different pleasures and sensual experiences. Even if one guy’s pleasure isn’t quite what you might want for yourself, you just go along with it to let him experience it in his own way. And I want you to experience everything, David. You just think about it until the next time we get together—and keep an open mind.”

I promised him I would and got up to go.

He said, “Wait a minute … I haven’t paid you yet. I don’t know how much you charge, but is five dollars enough?”

Five dollars was about twice as much as I had ever earned for a day’s work. After all, I was just a kid. I told Johnny that was plenty and tiredly turned around to walk away and head for home. He said, “Would you like a ride? I know that old mower of yours is kind of heavy to drag all the way home. I can put it in my trunk and drop you both off.”

I was beat, so I gladly took him up on his offer. We loaded the mower in his car and he drove me home. When we arrived my grandmother was working in her flower beds in the front yard. Before we got out of the car, Johnny leaned over and quietly said, “Why don’t you introduce me? Don’t worry, David. I won’t embarrass you.”

We got out, unloaded the mower, and I introduced him to my grandmother. He said “You have a great little worker here, Mrs. Divers. I sure do appreciate you letting me borrow him for the day.”

Grandma was charmed by his compliments, and they chatted for a few minutes. Johnny said, “I have to be getting home now, but I want to try to get David to work for me next week, if that’s all right. I have a lot of shrubbery that needs pruning and flowers that need weeding. By the way, some friends and I are going fishing next weekend, and I wonder if you might allow David to go with us?
I think I am off Friday, Saturday, and Sunday next week, so any of those days would be fine with me if they are all right with you.”

She said, “Well, Sunday is out because we go to church, but David can work either of those other days. David loves fishing and if he is not too tired and wants to go fishing with you, he can go.”

I thought to myself, “I am in like Flynn.” That evening at dinner Granny raved about what a gentleman Johnny was. When I mentioned his name, she said, “Don’t you be disrespectful to your elders, David. You should always call him ‘Mr. Rivers.’”

I thought about what he had said earlier that day when he had said something like, “You had my dick in your mouth yesterday and now you act as if my tongue is poison …” I chuckled to myself but told my grandmother solemnly, “Yes ma’am, I will always be polite to Mr. Rivers!”

She asked me how much he had paid me and when I unfolded the five dollar bill, she said I ought to be grateful to him. I told her it was hard work and that it was almost as hard as when I worked on the Muck farm.

Just to the East of the small town where I lived with my Mom and Dad during the school year there was once a big swamp. Years before, they had drained the swamp and made big produce farms out of the land. One summer when I was about twelve years old, my older brother had worked on one of the farms for only half a day. At lunch time he came home completely black and dirty. He said the work was too hard and that he wasn’t going back. I quickly asked, “Can I have your job?”

He said, “The devil can have it for all I care!”

So, I jumped on my bike, rode down to the farm, and told the lady in charge of the field hands who I was. I asked her if I could work in my brother’s place. She slowly appraised me, looking me up and down, and said, “You are kind of small, boy, but if you want to try it out you can go ahead.” For the next two summers, then, I was a field hand weeding celery and onions on my knees every day in the hot sun. There must have been 10-15 black kids from the city and one little white kid—me. The rows were a quarter of a mile long, and we weeded from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, crawling along the endless rows in the blistering hot sun. And they paid me the princely sum of 33 cents an hour! After the first few weeks they asked me if I wanted to stay late and peel onions in the evening.

They had a peeling shed where a bunch of foreign ladies sat around and peeled green onions, or scallions. They, like Johnny, thought I was just the cutest thing and liked to have me around. The onions you buy in the supermarket are peeled by somebody—I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about that or not. At one time that somebody was me. In the stores, you buy a small bunch, neatly separated and bound together. We got paid by the bunch, too, but those bunches we worked on were four times bigger than the small bunches as they are sold in the supermarkets. We were paid a cent and a half to peel four of the supermarket-sized bunches.

My family was not poor. My Dad made enough money so that we had everything we needed. Thinking back, I seemed to have had a need to prove to myself, “I am not a limp-wristed pansy!” Not that there is anything wrong with being one, but it was just not me!

(I put all of that in the story because a question occurs to me—I wonder which is worse, me occasionally sucking a dick, or those farm owners sucking the sweat and life blood out of me.)

Anyway, I was cool with the Johnny situation. Johnny had my phone number and called my grandmother the next Wednesday to see if I could work on Thursday. So, bright and early Thursday morning, I arrived at his door dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. He let me in. After a few caresses and some mutual groping, he led me outside to the garage and opened the big door. He got out some hedge clippers and a rake, took me into the front yard, and showed me how to trim the bushes. Johnny told me to keep at it just until I got tired and then come to the back door. After about an hour, I went around to the back door and knocked. When I entered, Johnny asked me if I had thought about what he had said about pleasing each other.

I said cheekily, “I am here, aren’t I?” I gave Johnny my best grin.

He said, “Come on in; I want to show you something new.”

I went into the kitchen where Johnny knelt down in front of me and took off my shoes and socks. He led me into the bedroom, stripped my shirt, and dropped my shorts to the floor. Picking me up in his strong arms, Johnny took me over to the bed where he carefully laid me down. He knelt down on the bed, bent over, and began licking the sweat from my feet and ankles—and I sweat a lot. Grinning, Johnny looked up at me and asked, “Have you ever heard of an around-the-world job?”

I replied with wide eyes, “No, what is it?”

He said, “You’ll soon see …let’s go to Paris first. Just lie back, relax, and enjoy the trip!”

Johnny returned to licking and went from my feet to my knees … I drew my legs up and spread them, anticipating that he would want to blow me. He quietly muttered, “Don’t be in such a hurry— we’ll get around to that, for sure …” Johnny methodically continued licking upward on my body, sucking on everything but my dick my balls and any other loose parts he could find … my dick was dripping like a leaky faucet.

Johnny reached my chest with his tongue, moved over, and savored the sweat from my pits. He continued upward to my face, slowly licking my cheeks and even my eyelids, and then he started back downward. Johnny rolled me sideways so that he could get to my back and buns …I gasped a little bit, wondering how far he would go “that way …”

He again rolled me flat on my back and then gently spread my legs as wide as he could get them. Johnny at last started in on my balls and worked his way behind them toward what they these days delicately call my “rosebud.” He spread my cheeks and licked the sides of my buns. I raised my hips as far as I could to present the biggest target for him. I thought to myself, “If that is what he wants, it’s Paris at last!” He toyed with my pink pucker with the tip of his tongue and I had never felt anything remotely like it. I spread as wide as I could, and soon he was trying to get as much of his tongue in me as he could possibly manage. To me, it felt like his tongue had reached somewhere as far north as my tonsils …

Finally, he backed off and slowly licked the flowing pre-cum off the head of my dripping dick. Then Johnny began sucking my dick in earnest to milk as much of my sweet nectar as he could get …I was moaning, practically clawing at Johnny’s sheets, bucking upward to trying to get my cock deeper still in his mouth. At last he began jacking it and sucking it until I came in his mouth, my cock throbbing relentlessly. I have no idea how long all that took because I had closed my eyes when my eruption started and, as they say nowadays, I just grooved on those blissful feelings and sensations. When I finally opened my eyes, however, Johnny was standing there, and beside him was a boy about my own age … staring …naked …eyes kind of glazed …hard as steel …

To be continued...

Posted: 08/14/09