Subject: I Learned a New Word Part One Please give to Nifty I Learned a New Word Part One The word was gamine. It’s French for a girl that looks like a boy. I learned it from Mrs. Lindstrom who’s a lady that lives in an expensive apartment in this downtown building I’m working in. She said someone in the building used it to describe her son Ollie. She laughed because they used the word wrong. I don’t know if the French have a word for a boy who could sorta be a girl but Ollie qualifies. Let me start from the beginning. I subcontract and was doing part of a remodel job in an empty apartment in this high rent building; drywall, counters and cabinets, other shit. It was next to the Lindstrom’s apartment. I talked to Mrs. Lindstrom because the manager wanted me to let them know when I’d be working, noise and all that. So I dropped by to introduce myself and she introduced me to Ollie, her fourteen year old, who was hanging around, it being summer and all. The kid says hello and I talk to Mrs. Lindstrom for a bit and tell her I’ll give her my schedule for the next week so she can go out if she wants to avoid the banging and hammering. I say my goodbyes and that’s that. Now, I take things as they are and I am thinking to myself while I am standing there and talking to her that her kid seemed pretty weird. He looked a little off and I would’ve just forgotten it except this kid is looking at me trying not to look at me if you know what I mean. I am picking up a definite vibe. The kid had a very round face with big blue eyes and dark lashes that contrasted with his pale, light gray skin that was thin enough to see the subtle pattern of blue of veins underneath. All this topped by close-cropped, dark, red hair. If Ollie’s skin and features were thin and delicate, his body was more so. His arms? Straight with no real muscles. He looked like a ballet dancer. And he was wearing something a ballet dancer would wear to practice in: white sneakers, black warm ups that looked like tights, and a scooped neck sweat shirt with half sleeves. Okay, so the kid is probably gay. I have no problem with that as I definitely go for twenty-something gay guys into blue collar/”construction worker” fantasies on the side. I’m up for that kind action when I don’t have a steady chick. Anyways, I tell Mrs. Lindstrom I won’t start work until after 9 AM per the manager’s orders and I’ll give you the schedule tomorrow. Next day rolls around and I stop by the apartment when who answers the door? Ollie. (Spelled “Olle” by the way) Between looking at his feet and the walls, Ollie says his mother went out for the morning and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. Just for grins, I tell Ollie if he wants to come over and learn some construction skills he can drop on by if he doesn’t have anything else to do. The kid reacted with the terror you would imagine. It gave me a chuckle. That afternoon, I see Mrs. Lindstrom in the hall when I was quitting for the day and this is where she engages me in a conversation about her son. To my surprise she tells me that Ollie told her of my offer to show him something about construction and he asked permission to come over and she thought this was a great “learning opportunity” for him and wanted to check with me so Ollie didn’t get underfoot when I was I busy. I tell her it’s okay if he wants to stop by for a little while before noon tomorrow. She thanks me and leaves me to think about tomorrow’s visit. Her kid sure as hell could care less about construction. Next day, I am in a back room finishing some drywall around 11:30 and I am keeping an ear open when I hear a tremulous voice call out “Hello? Hello?” from the front of the apartment. “Back here.” Ollie’s face appears at the door. “C’mon in.” The teen steps in like a deer entering a clearing. Shyly, eyes down, Ollie says, “My mom said it was okay for me to come over for a little bit.” “Yeah, sure, Ollie. I got some time.” He looks around a bit. He’s dressed in shorts and a tee with some Emo guy on the front. “So … you want to learn a few things, huh?” I ask friendly enough. “Yes.” “You ever build anything Ollie?” “No, not really,” came the weak response. “Well, how about we start with the basics? C’mere. You wanna hammer some?” “Okay.” “Here take this.” I thought the kid was going to fall over. “It’s heavy.” “Yeah it is. Just get a good grip on it.” I knelt on one knee. “Wrap your fingers around the shaft,” I instructed, placing izmit escort bayan the boy’s thin fingers around the red rubber grip. “That’s it, grip it tighter though.” “Like this?” Ollie asked. Not even close. I pulled the boy over with one arm around his waist and emphatically stated, “No, no, nice and tight, like you’re jerking your cock just before you come.” Ollie’s pulled such a face, it was priceless. “Uh … I …” “You know how to do that don’t you?” “Uh-uh, yes.” He was blushing so much his cheeks nearly matched his red hair. I stood up. “Come over here. Let’s pound one in. I’ll have you swinging a hammer in no time.” Ollie tried but I had to stop him before he hurt himself. Maybe he was distracted as I stood behind him and, with one hand on his bony shoulder, I held his other hand to pound a few nails in. I could feel the boy’s heat radiating off his body. I said kindly, “So, Ollie … maybe construction isn’t your thing. What do you think?” “No it isn’t,” the boy admitted. “I didn’t think so. Maybe you’re interested in something else?” The teen looked embarrassed and shy. He opened his mouth for a second but said nothing. He tucked his head down between his shoulders, averting his eyes. “There is no one else here …” I waited for a few seconds. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” “Wait!” Ollie paused, “I want … uh … I want …” The boy hid his eyes again. I was going to make him say it just to make sure. “What?” “I … I want to … uh …” I grabbed my crotch. “You want this?” I questioned directly. The boy gulped. “Well?” I waited a second or two. Then came the truth. “Yes,” he whispered. “Go close the door.” Ollie anxiously tiptoed over to shut the door. I dropped my utility belt. Ollie turned, wide-eyed and expectant. “Come over here.” I gestured him to a corner of the room away from the door. Ollie, prancing with nervousness, did exactly what I told him to do. “Kneel down.” Ollie’s knees were shaking as he knelt before me. I unbuckled, unsnapped, and slowly unzipped my Dickies. The boy excitedly looked on, smiling briefly, getting what he had craved, and then, he quickly checked his joy, anxious at exposing his intimate and secret desires. I dropped the blue work pants to my calves. My cock and balls were outlined in the damp cotton of my Jockeys. Even though it was an indoor job, I had worked up a sweat in my labors. There was an unmistakable manly aroma in the air. “Reach in and grab it,” I commanded calmly. The boy bit his lower lip with his slight overbite. The forbidden beckoned. “Go on.” The boy reached for the elastic. He looked to me for permission like a kid opening a Christmas present. I nodded. He pulled the band free with one hand and stuck the other in. He held my hooded cock gently, as a child holds a small animal. Ollie smiled the smile of a boy doing something naughty. Another command, “Take it out, Ollie.” The boy’s face lit up. His free hand pulled downward. I helped him along. A wriggle or two and my briefs came down and my cock and hairy balls flopped free. Ollie was entranced. He didn’t move, just staring for several long moments. “You can play with it. Go ahead.” Ollie handled my musky meat. I knew what else he would want for a memory. “Grab those balls.” The boy weighed them like sacks of coins. His slight, narrow fingers held the rolling treasures entwined in their dark, curly vines. “Smell your fingers.” Ollie looked at me with stunned wonder; I knew his thoughts before he did. He was reluctant at first; he had never had the full scent of a man. He lifted his index finger to his nostrils and breathed in the tangy perfume. He savored it, taking in the bouquet several times. He looked up at me, living a dream, a fantasy he had had many times. From above, I could see the boy had a fierce erection pressing rigidly against the fly of his shorts I knew what he would want next. I led him to it. “What do you want now, Ollie?” “I … uh ..” I made a simple statement, “You want my cock.” The boy blushed crimson with embarrassment. “You want to suck it … Don’t you?” Eyes downward, the boy nodded. He knew he couldn’t deny his hunger. “You’re going to taste it.” I took his head firmly but gently in my left hand and my hanging cock in my right. Ollie, just inches away, stared as I pulled my skin halfway back. A moist, glistening, purple eye met his gaze. Pulling his head forward, I began to rub the slick end izmit eve gelen escort of my cock over the boy’s thin lips. I steered his head side to side, dragging my cock against the boy’s face, back and forth. “Ohh!” Ollie gave a lustful gasp at the overwhelming sensations. His lips parted slightly. “Open up,” I quietly demanded. He did. I fed him my glans. Ollie’s lips protruded, forming a wide “O.” He gave tentative suck. I pulled my skin back to give the boy a full taste. “Mmhh.” It was a reactive sound; initial distaste followed closely by a primal desire, a hunger for cock and taking a man. I knew the boy would crave the distinct taste from this day forward. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” “Nngh,” was the garbled response. Ollie’s mouth was full and getting fuller. His submissive virginal nature was getting’ me real fired up. “Suck it. Get it hard,” I directed with increasing eagerness. Ollie went at it, sucking with a steady rhythm, but he obviously knew nothing about giving head. I adjusted myself and started feeding my cock, in and out, little by little, gently, giving the boy more and more of my engorging manhood. “Keep at it, get all you can.” “Guh …Guuk!” My glans and the first couple inches of my rod packed the teen’s mouth. He wasn’t close to getting it all. I pulled Ollie off my cock. He looked a bit overcome but I quickly got him back on task. “Put your lips on it. Go ahead, kiss it.” At this suggestion Ollie gave a puckish glance at my erection, blushing yet again. I nudged the red-haired lad towards my rising fuckstick. After an inexperienced kiss or two he was unsure exactly how to proceed. “Lick and suck … up and down. There you go, that’s it.” My shaft bulged, shiny and slick with boy spit. Ollie went up and over my deep, burgundy helmet. He worshipped at the Altar of Maleness. About the third pass, swept by the passion of neophytic conversion, he dragged a tooth or two. “Hey, careful there, boy!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ollie hurriedly apologized. “That’s okay, everybody makes that mistake at first.” I wanted to get some good head from this green boy. I’d get him going down some. He would gag a little but, hey, that’s part of giving head for the first time. “Ollie, I want to open wide and go down on my cock. You know what I’m talking about?” “Yes.” I bet he did. He probably jerked to porn a hundred times fantasizing about sucking cock. “Get on it.” Neck bent, he went down. He took as much as he could, about half. The red head went up and down. It felt good enough but what I was really getting off on was the whole scene: the empty apartment with bare white walls; getting head on the job site from a virgin teen, no less. I was going to pump a hefty load for sure. As I got closer, I grasped the cords at the back of Ollie’s neck and gave a gentle push. I could feel my cockhead at the back of his throat. A few more pushes got him to take maybe a half an inch more before he gagged and coughed. I let him up. His blue eyes watered. “Too much, huh? You’ll get better,” I consoled, “But … we’re not done. You’re going to get yourself a load of man cream.” The boy looked taken aback. “Don’t act surprised. You want it. Don’t lie.” The boy bowed his head meekly. “C’mon, don’t be shy.” I lifted the boy’s chin. “I want you to suck it real good and I’ll tell you when to get ready, okay?” Ollie nodded. “Go on. Get to it.” I held my cock down some with one hand and Ollie got sucking. I held his head in place, caressing the boy’s head with my other hand as I widened my stance. “Yeah … that’s it … just like that.” The boy serviced me noisily, giving little breaths between slurping sounds. It had my balls up and my asshole tight in no time. I gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Uhhn … yeah … suck it you little faggot.” I rubbed the boy’s head. I could feel the approach, the point of no return. “Okay … Get ready,” I warned. I broke a sweat. I tried to hold it long enough to angle the boy’s head just right. My hips locked, cock forward. “It’s coming, Ollie.” “Uhh … Here it … Uhh … Uhhh … Comes!” My semen rose from deep within my balls, rushed up my shaft, and spurted forcefully from the end of my cock. The boy jumped, as I knew he would, somewhere after the second shot. “Umpthh!” “Hold on!” I groaned through clenched teeth. “Unnhth … Guh … Guhhhk!” Ollie was trying to spit the dummy. My cream ran izmit otele gelen escort out the sides of his mouth. I pulled him off my rod, held his head back, and jerked the remainder of my come on his nose and open lips. “Don’t spit!” I ordered. I saw a fluid pool of the Ollie’s saliva and my pearly globules swirling over and around the boy’s teeth and tongue. “Swallow it.” The boy closed his mouth and gave a few shallow swallows. “That’s it. Get the taste, boy.” I took my fingers and ran them up the side of his cheeks, pushing the runny, dripping semen into the teen’s mouth. “There. That’s good. Eat it all. That’s a good boy.” Ollie sucked my fingers. His eyes were teary. “Yeah, you did a good job. Did you like that?” Ollie was too dazed to answer, he half-nodded, but the look on his face said it all. “Yeah you did. You like sucking cock,” I stated the obvious. With those words, Ollie looked to my now sagging phallus; glistening wet, a single white drop quivered between its pouting urethral lips. I knew he wouldn’t forget his first. I grabbed my Jockeys and stuffed my junk away. Ollie looked like a boy who had lost his toy. I pulled my Dickie’s up, zipped, and buckled my belt. The air was heavy with my sweat and the scent of semen. “C’mere.” I pulled Ollie to his feet. I wiped the tears and come left on his face with the sleeve of my long cotton tee. Ollie had a very noticeable boner raging in his shorts. “You did a good job, kid. Hey, there’s a bathroom down the hall if you wanna go and jerk off in the toilet.” It was at that moment that a voice was heard from the front of the apartment. “Yoo hoo! Boys! Ollie! I brought some lunch over for Mr. Johnson.” “Go open the door,” I told Ollie in a low voice. “We’re in here Mrs. Lindquist,” I called loudly. Other than my tool belt on the floor, there was nothing amiss. I went out into the hall. Mrs. Lindquist waved and held up a sub shop bag. “Gee, thank you, Mrs. Lindquist. You didn’t have to do that,” I said as I walked toward the front of the apartment. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Johnson. I appreciate your taking the time to show Ollie how this sort of work is done. I would never have dreamed he would be interested in such a thing.” Spotting Ollie, she added, “Yoo hoo! Ollie, come here. I was just thanking Mr. Johnson for his kindness. You should thank him, too, dear.” Ollie, red-faced, was walking slowly. I noticed he held his hands over the front of his shorts. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” was the polite reply. “You’re welcome, Ollie,” I responded, more to Mrs. Lindquist than to the teen, “It was my pleasure.” “We were just taking a break. I think I will eat that in the kitchen, Mrs. Lindquist.” I steered her in that direction. “I hope Ollie was no bother. I know you need to get your work done.” “No bother, Mrs. Lindquist. It is important to take some time to teach young people. How else are they going to learn what we know?” “True, so true. It is so nice that you could find the time. I know Ollie was looking forward to visiting. Tell me, did he do well? For a beginner, I mean.” I was putting the straw in my drink. “Yes, he did very well,’ I reported. “Sorry, I am very thirsty. You can work up a sweat, even indoors,” I apologized. “Please, please.” I took a sip. “Yes, Ollie did a very satisfactory job. He handled the tools okay for a beginner. He got the `job done’ as they say.” I looked over at the boy. He had pulled his t-shirt out to cover his situation. He blushed. His mother beamed. “I am so happy to hear that and his father will be happy as well. Don’t you think Papa will be pleased, Ollie?” Ollie bowed his head and nodded. “His father is so busy with work, commercial underwriting, that he hardly has time for anything else. I do think young boys need a masculine role model at times. Ollie seems too preoccupied with that depressing music.” “Well, it’s hard to find the time sometimes,” I commiserated, unwrapping the sandwich. “I’m here for a couple more days, so If Ollie wants to drop by, I’m good with it.” “Oh, splendid! Did you hear that Ollie?” “But,” I excepted, “No more lunches, Mrs. Lindquist. It’s not necessary.” “Fair enough, Mr. Johnson,” she agreed, “I am going out to lunch tomorrow anyway.” “Speaking of lunch, I’ve got to eat and get back to work. But, as I said, Ollie can come back tomorrow around the same time, if he wants. It’s up to him.” I gave the teen a glance. He looked to his feet. “That’s just wonderful. Thank you so much Mr. Johnson. Come now, Ollie, Mr. Johnson has to eat. Are you hungry? I’ll fix you something.” They left. Would the boy be back tomorrow? I’d bet on it. There was a lot more for him to learn. All rights Reserved. Copyright 2019.

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