Kris Evans










by Sean Reid Scott  This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

Posted: in the before time ::  Approx. 3,800 words


IFIRST SAW HIM on a warm late spring day. He was moving into the rental house next door. I had just gotten home from school, and was taking out the garbage-- one of my assigned chores.

As I dumped the big bag into the trash can at the side of our house, I turned and saw him carrying a box up his driveway.

I did a double-take. Oh my god, he was gorgeous. And huge! The first thing I noticed about him was his thick, muscular neck. It supported his drop-dead handsome face, which held two of the most stomach-churning eyes I had ever seen. They were dark brown, but alive and bright. His head was topped with short, sandy-blonde hair. Fuck, he was a hunk to send all other hunks into an envy fit! His face mesmerized me only momentarily because my eyes were quickly captivated by the gargantuan arms which bulged as they held the box he was carrying. His eyes met mine and he smiled. I moved my gaze back down his physique and examined his thick, muscular legs. Holy shit, he was built! I figured he was in his early twenties, maybe a recent college grad.

As he walked up to the house, my view changed to his back side, and I was treated to a display of the tightest, most sensual butt you could imagine. His waist was really narrow; his lats hung above his narrow belt line like wings; and the bulk of his powerful legs fought mercilessly against his jeans as he walked.

I don’t know if my jaw was hanging open, but I know I dropped the garbage can’s metal lid on our driveway as I tried to close it down on the can without looking at it. My eyes were glued to the Adonis (or was he a Hercules?) moving in next door.

I spent the rest of the afternoon up in my room at my desk, which was conveniently located at my bedroom window, giving me an excellent view of him as he continued to unload his truck. In retrospect, I should have offered to help him move, but to tell you the truth, I was too scared to venture over there. He was so good looking, and his physique was so-- so perfect, that I just knew that I’d make a fool of myself.



MY USUAL CADRE OF MUSCLE magazines and bodybuilding DVDs held no attraction for me that night; I laid in my bed thinking only of him. I tried to guess at the measurement of his arms, but all I could conclude was that they were fucking huge, and the more I thought about how his T-shirt sleeves struggled to contain them, the harder my cock got. By midnight, not the least bit ready to sleep, I decided I needed to relieve myself of the pressure. It didn’t take long. The next morning, my sheets were crusted with the dried remains of my ejaculations. I wondered to myself as I ran my fingers over the splotches of cum, how many other guys had had orgasms as they pondered this guy. I wondered what it would be like to have a gorgeous face and body like that-- to have that kind of power over guys-- where, just by walking down the street in a T-shirt, you would compel men to retreat to the privacy of their own bedrooms and jack off as they thought of you. Did he know that he did that to guys? Was he aware that he drove guys crazy?



THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL was pure torture. All I could think about was our new neighbor; every time I saw one of the high school jocks that usually turned me on, all I could think about was how my new neighbor would just blow them away.

When I got home, there was no car in his driveway, so I started in on my chores and did my homework. I dutifully delved into my studies and tried, mostly in vain, to keep my mind on my school work and off my hunky neighbor.

At about 5:15, a convertible Corvette pulled into his driveway. My stomach tensed. The car door opened, and he stepped out. Holy shit. He was wearing a white dress shirt that looked sensational. Even fully clothed, there was no mistaking that this guy was built more solidly than a steel vault. He had a red tie on, and wore black pleated pants. Fuck, this guy cleaned up good! I couldn’t believe my eyes; he was so hot! He walked toward his house, giving me a nice view of how his pants cupped his tight ass, holding each muscular cheek in check as he took each step.

In the few seconds it took him to make it from his car to his front door, I became as hard as a rock. This guy was everything I had fantasized about. Actually, he was more than I had imagined possible.

He disappeared into his house, and I just sat there, longingly staring at his front door. It seemed like only a few minutes, but was probably at least twenty, before the door opened. I was jolted from my trance-- I had been just sitting there at my desk, staring out my window, fantasizing about him-- by the sight of him emerging from his front door. He was wearing a tank top! And cut-off jeans! Oh mAyAn! He went into his back yard and quickly reemerged with a lawn mower.

I made myself comfortable, loosening my pants. He started the engine and then commenced walking back and forth, pushing the lawn mower up and down his lawn. It was a magnificent show, and I was soon pushing on my crotch. Before I knew it, I had my zipper open and was stroking myself.

Just as my semen exploded out and began roping up onto my shirt, my mom drove into the driveway! Oh shit! I pumped out the last of my rather generous amount of jizz as she parked the car and got out. I grabbed some old shorts off the floor and started wiping up. It was no use. I quickly took off my shirt and threw it in the hamper, carefully rubbing in any excess semen. As I threw on another shirt I was surprised to see my mom standing in the driveway, talking to the guy! They continued their conversation for a few minutes, and then my mom came inside.

I came downstairs.

“Well, that new neighbor sure seems like a nice young man,” mom said as she laid her keys on the counter. She turned without looking at me and opened the fridge. She bent over and looked in. “He’s a management trainee down at the bank,” she said as she smelled a tub of left-over lasagna. She stood up straight, a far-off look in her eyes. “He’s quite a nice boy. Must work out at the gym a lot.” She turned away from me and scooped the lasagna onto a plate and put it into the microwave.

Seems the stud had not only smitten the neighbor boy, but his mother as well.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. “What’s his name?” “Adam,” she answered. “Drew, can you grab me the loaf of bread...” she motioned to the counter behind me.



AFTER DINNER I DECIDED to catch some air outside. You never can get too much fresh air. And there he was. He was in his back yard, cleaning up his lawn mower, putting it back in his storage shed. I made like I was checking on the water and food for our dog, even though it didn’t need to be done.

“Hey dude,” I heard as I moved the dog’s food dish. I looked up and saw the muscly neighbor leaning over our fence, smiling widely. My heart stopped. “You must be Drew,” he smiled. “I met your mom a few minutes ago. I’m Adam,” he said sticking out his hand. As if by a tractor beam, my body was drawn to the fence, where we shook hands. Oh holy shit, this guy’s eyes killed me! And his smile and strong face just zapped me of my strength. I know I was sweating and probably even shaking as I stood there. “Glad to meet you,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I saw you move in yesterday.” He smiled. “Yeah, it was a chore. Glad to have it done. I just have to unpack all those boxes now.” He laughed, and his perfect teeth melted me. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes seemed to pierce right into my soul. He just smiled and looked at me, genuinely relaxed and just enjoying being there. I, on the other hand, was getting increasingly nervous. Finally he broke the silence and said “You go to Heathrow High?” “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m a senior there,” I stammered, trying to present some kind of composure.

“Junior,” he said, smiling. “So that makes you about, what, 18?” “Yeah. Just turned last month.” “Cool,” he smiled. “Man, I remember when I was 18, there were only two things on my mind. Football and girls. If I wasn’t throwing a pass on the field, I was making one under the bleachers!” he laughed.

I nodded my head and raised my eyebrows, trying to convey a “yeah, me too,” attitude, which was not totally accurate.

He leaned on the fence and just looked at me, smiling. I scuffed the patio cement as I stood there with my hands in my pockets. Finally he spoke again. “Well, dude, I better get this lawn mower put away. Need to get inside and do some unpacking. Catch you later, man.” “Sure.” He turned away as he said “Nice meeting you dude.” I bent over and moved the dog dish next to the dog house and went back inside. My heart pounding, I made my way upstairs and contemplated Adam, his astounding physique, his cool friendliness and the thought of him making out with some chick under the bleachers. I wonder how many girls he satisfied in high school.



THE NEXT DAY WAS Saturday, and I slept in. That is, I slept in until my mom hollered up the stairs to me, “Drew, time to get up! I’ve got to get going.” I groaned and rolled out of the bed, shuffling down the stairs in my T-shirt and boxers. “I’m meeting Janice in 10 minutes. We’re going garage sale shopping today, and then we’re driving down to Salem to check out the new mall there. Probably won’t be back until after dinner,” mom chirped as she hurried around the kitchen. “There’s a waffle in the oven, keeping warm for you. Your list of chores is on the counter. Have ‘em done before I get back.” She closed the door and my Saturday morning was quiet once again. I loved my mom, but life sure seemed a lot more peaceful when she was gone.

I picked up the chore list and read it. Oh, shit. Mow the lawn, clean and sweep the patio, water the plants in the front, weed garden. I moaned. Weeding was my most un-favorite chore. My mom had this grandiose idea that we would plant a garden this year, and as it turned out, *I* was the one doing all of the work. I couldn’t understand why we couldn’t just buy the green beans and carrots at the store, like normal people did. A lot of work for no reason, I thought.

I wolfed down my waffle and went back upstairs to take a shower. The warm water helped wake me up, and invariably my soapy hand found its way down to my cock, which wasted no time responding to my soft caresses. Visions of Adam propelled my fingers over the swelling, very sensitive organ as it quickly assumed attention. I wondered what Adam’s fingers would feel like, if, instead of my own hand slowing stroking my soapy penis, his strong fingers were to touch it. Almost before I could even bear down and push, I began spouting hard blasts of cum onto the shower wall. It was possibly the hardest, and quickest, orgasm I had ever had. I actually moaned loudly, almost yelled, as my cock burst forth its juices. I’d never done that before. Adam smiled at me in my imagination, nodding his head in approval.

Outside, I quickly mowed the lawn, did the patio and turned the sprinkler onto the front yard. The weeding looked like it would take the rest of the day. My disposition sank as I pondered wasting my time digging up weeds all afternoon. After about 10 minutes, my back started to ache. Sweat formed on my forehead, and I labored with each stroke of the hoe.

“Better watch it, dude. You’ll likely pull a muscle doing that,” a voice from over the fence called. I glanced up to see Adam leaning against the fence. Immediately my stomach churned with lust. Adam just smiled at me. “You must be into torture, man,” he said.

“No, but my mom is,” I said disgustingly.

“Oh, the chore thing,” he smiled. “Tough luck, dude.” I loved that he called me dude. It conveyed a certain acceptance, a certain approval of my masculinity. Now, on the outside, I came across as a pretty hip guy-- maybe even a jock. But on the inside I knew I was a faggot. I hated that about myself, but there was no changing it. I SO wanted to be just “one of the guys,” but I knew I would never fit in. But Adam seemed to be under the impression that I was actually normal. His attention was awesome. No man, let alone the most gorgeous, muscular guy I had ever met, had ever extended this kind of acceptance to me-- ever.

I half-heartedly pitched my hoe into the dirt, upending a tiny weed next to the carrots.

“Shit, you’re doing such a great job there, why not come over to my place when you’re done. I have a few weeds that need pulling too!” he laughed. I gave him a sarcastic sneer, and he almost doubled over in laughter. Holy shit. When he laughed, his whole body seemed to move. Too sexy to watch. “I’m just messing with you, dude,” he said.

I brushed the sweat from my brow.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked.

“Shopping all day,” I said. “She gets to spend money; I get to weed her garden.” Adam laughed again. Shit, he had such a killer smile. It was hard to keep from getting a boner right there in the garden, just watching his muscular body as he stood there. And he was paying attention to ME!

“You gunna be long?” he asked.

I leaned against the handle of the hoe and said, “Depends on how many times I get interrupted with questions.” Despite my nervousness, I had obviously not lost my quick wit.

Adam roared. “Well, man, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over and grab a sandwich with me. It’s almost lunch time.” “That’d be cool,” I said. “But I have to get this all done today.” Adam jumped over the fence in one motion. “Got another hoe?” I couldn’t believe it. Adam wanted to help me?

It was amazing how fast the work went. We actually got it all done in about a half hour. I guess I over-estimated the job.

“Want some chips with that?” Adam asked as he placed a sandwich before me. Before waiting for an answer he grabbed a bag of baked potato chips from the cupboard and tossed them on the table next to me. He lifted his leg over the back of his chair and sat down across from me. Shit, he made a mean sandwich. I wolfed it down in no time.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Adam said as I finished. “At 17, the other thing I constantly did, besides girls and football, was eat,” he grinned. “I still can put quite a bit down, though,” he said, glancing down at his second sandwich. “You want another?” “Sure. Thanks,” I said.

Adam got up, once again lifting his leg over the back of the chair, straddling it as he moved backwards, turning to the counter to make me another. He was so hot! His narrow waistline was so taut, so slim, compared to the huge muscles of his back and chest. His tight ass was absolutely gorgeous, as he stood at the counter. His legs were fucking oak trees, supporting that muscular butt as he made me more food.

Despite munching down huge amounts of food, I started to feel my penis start to grow in my jeans. Shit. I tried to look away, thinking of other things, but it was no use. Within a minute, my cock was uncomfortably hard, straining to be released from its downward-pointing position. It filled the crotch of my jeans, constrained too tightly by the tight denim. Adam’s ass flexed and bulged as he shifted weight from one gargantuan leg to the other.

He turned around just as I was trying to reposition my cock in my pants. Although my crotch was under the table as I sat there, I know he saw what I was doing. Either that or he could tell that I was checking out his ass. Whatever it was, I tried to look away, and I could tell he tried to ignore it as well.

“Here ya go, champ,” he said, handing me another sandwich. His strong hands paused for just a moment and our eyes met for just a fraction of a second longer than normal. The lightning in his eyes twinkled as our gaze broke, and his smile just melted me. “Don’t choke on it,” he laughed as he sat down.

As if his butt and legs weren’t enough to harden my organ, it was those arms and shoulders that just killed me. Where did he get such huge guns? Ripped with veins, his biceps were eye-popping.

“Thanks,” I said as I raised the sandwich to my mouth, taking a big bite. It was all I could do to keep from visibly shaking. Adam gazed at me, grinning. His smile broadened, almost into a laugh. He just looked at me.

“What,” I finally said, my mouth full.

“I was just thinking,” he said.

“About what,” I asked, trying not to talk with my mouth full.

“About the other thing that I couldn’t get enough of when I was 17.” I took a few chips and downed them. “That being...” “Aw, it’s nothing,” he said.

I poured on the charm, successfully hiding my deepening adoration of the hunk seated across the table from me. Adam took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, trying in vain to conceal his amusement at his own thought processes.

“Come on...” I pressed.

“Aw, it’s just that I remember at 17-- well actually all through high school, I don’t know which I did more, bed the chicks or jerk off,” he grinned.

I tried to act like what he said was nothing abnormal, but inside I was dying. Other guys—other normal guys jerk off too? Guys who fuck girls jerk off too? That’s normal?

I turned beet red. On the one hand it was so awesome to know that this Adonis thought jerking off was a cool thing to do, but on the other hand, I felt like he had just looked right into my soul and outed my most intimate secret. Sure, he had no idea what I thought about when I masturbated, but he obviously knew what I did in my most private moments.

Adam grinned. “Yeah, I thought so, dude.” His thick forearms bulged as he raised his sandwich to his mouth for another bite. He had to work at containing his grin enough so that the food didn’t show in his mouth as he chewed. “Shit, when I was your age, I was just a walking hormone factory,” he laughed. “Shit, I think I was hard at least 90 per cent of the time.” I chewed on my food with new vigor, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Sorry, man,” he finally said, still smiling. “’f you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool dude. I was kind of embarrassed about it then too, but it’s totally okay, man. Every warm-blooded guy has to get it out of his system on a regular basis. Shit, that was only ten years ago, and even now I have to jerk off at least once a day.” He smiled at me, and I nodded in an understanding way, smiling as best I could.

After the table was cleared, Adam said, “Okay dude, I helped you with the weeding, now it’s time to return the favor.” “No way, man,” I grinned. “I’ve met my weeding quota for the month.” He laughed. “No, dude, no more weeding. I just was hoping you might be able to help me wash my car. You available?” Hmmmm. Let’s see. Hot day, muscleman neighbor, car washing, shirts off. Yeah, I think I can fit it in. “Sure. The Vette?” “Well, I sold the Studebaker, so yeah, the Vette,” he laughed.

the regulsr text .








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