Well, the boys are back, as promised when Part 3 concluded back in early October. As before, all the chapters are written (23 in total) and will be released to Nifty over the coming weeks. All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
If you have been following the story from the start you will remember that Part 1, Chapter 1 opened on the morning of Dan's 16th birthday. After several thousand words of flash-back and catch-up, Chapter 1 of Part 4 picks up the story in the same place. I hope you enjoy meeting up again with Dan and Milo.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
pjalexander1753@gmail.com
PJ
D'n'M Part 4
Chapter 1:
"So, Number 2 son, sixteen eh? My baby boy is growing up," teased Roger Reed as he and Dan moved around the kitchen, assembling the various items and ingredients needed for the traditional Reed family birthday breakfast.
"That's right old man," responded Dan as he set the table with all the necessary items, "Nearly as tall as you with two more years of growing still to come. I'll be the giant and you'll be the munchkin." Dan was smiling almost as much as his dad.
"And it doesn't seem more than five minutes since you were a new-born and screaming the house down morning, noon and night. Your poor mother could barely fill you up then and here we are, sixteen years later and you're still eating like it's going out of fashion. Pancakes or French toast? Your choice, on your birthday."
"Both?" It was worth a shot.
"Pancakes it is, then. Will M be joining us or is he still away with his dad?"
Ever since things had come to a head between Milo's parents, back at the time of the inter-schools' sports tournament, Milo and his dad had determinedly spent one weekend every month on a `boys only' trip away somewhere, usually camping at the coast or in a National Park, re-building the relationship that had been so badly fractured in the months when things between Gerry and Grace de Beer had sunk to an all-time low, with Milo being the resulting collateral damage.
"They've gone sea fishing for the weekend somewhere on the south coast but M promised to be back early to help get ready for the birthday barbeque. I told him to be here in time to see Tom before he has to go back to uni."
"Yes, it's a shame your brother can't stay for the party, but it's a long drive back and he's got important classes he mustn't miss. It can't be helped." Every time Tom left to return to university Roger was reminded of just how much he missed having both his sons at home but he was grateful that Tom made the effort to get back as often as possible. He knew that many of Tom's friends made the journey much less frequently. That knowledge made him more than a little grateful that `family first' had been drummed into both boys right from the get go.
"But it's been great to have him here for nearly three whole days, eh dad?" Dan didn't often admit, at least not in public, just how much he missed his older brother -- so not cool - his brother who was, at that moment, fast asleep upstairs having returned home in the early hours after spending the evening `catching up' with one of many former girlfriends. Dan was hoping for some juicy details later.
"You still planning on making your first solo trip to the gym after breakfast?"
"Are you kidding me? I can't wait."
This had been the deal, back when Dan had given up soccer following his abuse by Mr. Roberts, the soccer coach, that he could regularly attend the local gym but only with his dad. However, if he kept it up and was still motivated to continue, then once he turned sixteen, he'd be allowed go on his own.
"It'll be great not having to wait forever for you while you drag your creaky old body around the place." Dan's face was grinning widely.
"You ungrateful young heathen. For that I think I'll keep for myself a certain special `father-to-son' present I'd planned to give you. That'll teach you to be cheeky to your wonderful, kind and generous dad."
"Special present?" Roger nodded.
"Something just from you?" He nodded again.
"And not from mum?" And again.
"Then I take it all back, you are, without doubt, the most wonderful, kindest and most generous parent that ever lived. So what is it and can I have it now?"
The Reed males had a reputation for the competitive and slightly barbed nature of their banter, each one constantly trying to come out victorious in any battle of words between themselves. On this occasion however, with a special `father-to-son' present at stake, Dan realised it was in his own best interests to make sure his dad came out on top
"Aah, you've quickly changed your tune. How do I know you really mean all those complimentary things and you're not just saying them because you want the present?" They both knew his was all part of the game and that, of course, Dan would be getting his special gift before much more time had passed.
"Don't I always say you're the absolute best dad on the planet?"
"You do, but only when you want something, especially money."
"Not fair. I say it at other times too."
"Yes, like when you need a ride into town or a new ink cartridge for your printer." They both knew that each of those things had happened in the last 48 hours. Dan was beginning to see this `special present', whatever it was, slipping further and further from his grasp. His dad wasn't kidding when he said he might keep it for himself. He got down on both knees and brought his hands up to his chest in a gesture of humility.
"Oh, greatest parent ever in the history of the universe, your humble and undeserving son begs forgiveness for his rude and inconsiderate comments and further begs to be allowed his special birthday gift."
Roger was working hard to keep his expression straight and to not burst out laughing. Dan, on the other hand, was finding it impossible to suppress the grin that had taken up residence on his face. He collapsed further onto the floor in a fit of giggling. They both heard the sound of the garage door being opened and immediately closed signalling Helen Reed's return from her morning run. Roger spoke hurriedly.
"It's on my desk in the home-office. You'll probably not want your mum to see it so you'd best scoot off and take it up to your bedroom. I'll get on with breakfast."
Dan got to his feet and was half-way out of the door and on his way to collect his `special present' (it must be something pretty off the wall if his mum wasn't meant to see) when his dad's voice caused him to turn round.
"Oh, and Dan?"
"Yes dad."
"Happy birthday son."
Smiling, Dan turned back around and made his way to the home-office. There, in the middle of the desk, was a rectangular parcel, about the size of a regular cereal box, wrapped in plain gold paper and with a small white envelope on top. Dan scooped it up and continued on his way up the stairs to his room. Once inside he closed the door behind him (his mum would soon be coming upstairs for her post-run shower) and made his way over to his bed. He was tempted to immediately attack the gift wrapping but convinced himself that, as a mature sixteen-year old, he should open the card first.
Happy Birthday `BIG' boy -- hope you enjoy this extra support.
If you're anything like me you're going to need it. Dad xxx
Okaaay! That all sounded pretty mysterious. Why the capital BIG? And in what particular way might he be like his dad? Roger and Tom Reed looked amazingly alike but Dan was more like his mum, with a slighter build than the other males in the family, blue-grey rather than brown eyes and finer features. Hmmm.
Well, the only way to find out the meaning of this cryptic message was by opening the parcel. So that's what Dan did. He ripped off the gift wrap and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a layer of white tissue paper with a short hand-written note on top.
Nothing special but great for everyday use.
This was like a one-person game of Pass-the-Parcel thought Dan as he lifted the tissue paper out of the box and peeled it back to reveal a neatly-folded, plain white jock strap. Oh wow! He wasn't expecting that. He lifted it from the box and held up the ungainly-looking triangle of fabric and its attached straps. Dan studied it closely, stretching the various component parts in a variety of directions. Ultimate Performance' proclaimed the wide waist band, printed above the firm's blue and white UP company logo. In smaller print was written: pouch polyester, nylon and spandex; waist size small', along with various washing instructions. Oh wow! No wonder his dad had suggested opening the present in the privacy of his room. He would have known that the first thing Dan would want to do was to try it for size.
Wasting no time, he stripped off his sleep boxers and yesterday's T and, naked, stepped into the unfamiliar garment, first one leg and then the other. He pulled it up his legs. His junk seemed to fall naturally into the soft, white pouch and the waistband sat comfortably above his hips. So far so familiar, but then there were the butt straps to sort out. Where, exactly, were they meant to sit? He needed a different perspective, an alternative view, and for that he had to move across the room to the full-length mirror which hung on the back of his bedroom door.
Oh yes! The teen instantly liked what he saw -- very nearly six feet of lean, clean-lined and toned boy flesh, not overly-muscled but defined in all the right places, with just enough leg and underarm hair to prove that he was all boy. His tummy was flat and his chest was square and solid, his shoulders were wide and his arms showed just how powerful they were going to be after a couple more years of serious working-out. And then, of course, there was the bulge, comfortably supported in the new jock, shaft subtly outlined and curving forwards over the frequently-exercised balls. He gently ran the back of one hand over the mound of his boyhood. Nice.
Dan's hands next moved to the waistband of this special gift and quickly found where the butt straps joined it. Three fingers of each hand travelled down the straps and confidently arranged them to sit snugly under each butt cheek at the point where they creased and joined his legs. He turned around with his back to the mirror, keeping his fingers under the straps, and then looked back over his shoulder.
Again, Oh yes! His butt looked awesome, framed by the bright white of the jock and emphasising what years of soccer and then several months of dedicated working-out, running and martial arts had crafted. Certainly not a bubble butt (not that he really knew what one of those was) but definitely one to be proud of, pert and muscled and in perfect proportion to his sculpted frame.
Ever since that visit to AR Sports (scene of Milo's famous encounter with Tye, the hunky store assistant), Dan had been happy to wear compression shorts for his various sporting activities, both in and outside of school. Lately, though, he had noticed an increasing number of other guys wearing jocks and had begun to wonder whether it was time for a change, especially with his junk having had quite a growth spurt in the previous few months. Well, it looked as if his dad had read his mind. Good job Old Man! And thinking of his dad, did he know that Dan's dick and balls had got bigger recently? And did the second part of the note mean that Roger was, himself, well hung? Hmm. He'd have to mull that over later, for now there were other thoughts to deal with.
What he saw reflected back at him put Dan in mind of the older boys he used to see in the locker room and at the pool when he was a young teen, and in that moment he was briefly pained by the memory of his determination then to look more like them in order to attract the attention of Beth Harper. Big, big mistake, and a lesson learned. Since the revelation of Beth's involvement in the beating up of two members of the school swimming team Dan had barely given a thought to the idea of dating, but looking at himself now he began to wonder whether it wasn't time to start dipping his toes in that particular body of water. There were certainly one or two girls in his class who had caught his attention and he had the feeling that the interest might be mutual. He couldn't help feeling that someone who filled out a jock as well as he was at that moment could get himself any girl he wanted. Maybe. Of course, it was possible that this realisation was all part of the new Dan Reed that he and Please Call Me had spent several weeks discussing. Interesting.
He turned back to take a second look at the front view and allowed his right hand to duck under the waistband and down into the pouch holding his precious boystuff. Yes, the fit was perfect, with no constriction or over-tightness of the straps and very little need to make adjustments -- although it never did any harm to make sure that everything was in order. He'd heard of guys who habitually wore a jock in place of more conventional underwear. How would that be he wondered? He decided it would be a while before he would consider that as a serious option. For now, at least, he was happy to stick with his favoured boxer briefs.
Okay, so everything felt comfortable when he was standing still, but what about when he moved? He started to walk around his room, first as normal' but then increasing his stride length and introducing some quick turns and sudden changes of direction. Still everything was held comfortably in place with nothing to make him fear that anything might unexpectedly escape'.
Dan found himself back by his bed. He sat down and glanced again at the open box where he saw something he hadn't noticed in the initial excitement of opening his special present -- more tissue paper and another hand-written note.
Something a bit more special, for when you feel in need of some extra lift.
How come he'd not noticed this before? Too excited, he supposed, by the sight of the jock he was now wearing with an increasing sense of comfort. So, what did his dad mean by needing extra lift? One of his smart-ass cracks about Dan's dedication to working-out with weights probably. He lifted a second tissue paper-wrapped item from the box and ... Fuck! Another jock, but way different from the first one. Okay, so the basic construction was the same -- waistband, pouch and butt straps -- but there the similarities ended. The one he was wearing was plain, simple and workmanlike, designed to do a job, nothing more, nothing less. Number Two, well, number two was different. The wide bright blue waistband had a horizontal red stripe running through it except at the front where the word PUMP! was printed in large capital letters. The pouch was the same shade of blue but with a prominent red-threaded seam up the centre which created a suggestive curved outline. The two butt straps were the red of the stripe and the seam thread. To say the overall effect was eye-catching would have been a serious understatement. Dan's dick began to thicken at the mere prospect of being snuggled up inside this very sexy-looking garment.
Within seconds jock Number One lay in a sad little discarded heap on the floor as Dan paraded round his bedroom in Number Two as if he was auditioning for the next Magic Mike movie. He couldn't understand why the two tiny garments, designed to fulfil pretty much the same function, could feel so different from each other, but they definitely did. As he moved round the room the straps of Number Two somehow seemed to naturally find their way to the perfect position underlining each butt cheek and emphasising the youthful fluidity of his movement. And the pouch, oh man, the pouch felt as if it was gently caressing his dick and balls in the way he hoped someone, someday soon, would be stroking them for real. Unsurprisingly Dan's hands were irresistibly drawn to the sexy curve of the pouch and, as he cupped and stroked the outside, the goods inside began the inevitable response. Thicker, longer, harder grew his dick until the full six and one quarter inches were begging to be set free. Almost unconsciously two fingers of Dan's right hand slipped under the straining fabric, close to the point where it joined the straps underneath his excited balls, and pulled it away from his body, creating a sideways escape route for his throbbing boner.
Out in the open, his dick and balls together ached for attention which Dan was more than happy to provide, especially as his first jerk-off attempt of the morning had been so suddenly interrupted when he had realised what a special day this was. He sank to his knees, curling his toes under in order to keep his torso upright. In this position the early signs of his developing four-pack were shown to their best advantage and his dick and balls were pushed forward and up as if he was offering them as a gift to an unseen lover. In fact, he could see himself, once again, reflected in the mirror on the back of the door. Nice! In fact, more than nice -- awesome. Yes, it was definitely time to embark on Project Girlfriend, but before he could give any serious thought to that he had another priority, and that was to unload as much cum as he could as soon as possible.
Supporting his upper body weight with his left hand which he placed on the floor immediately behind him, and with his dick and balls thrust even further forward, Dan took a firm grasp of his shaft and began to stroke. There was no need for extra lube as he was producing more than enough of his own to allow for low-friction but maximum-stimulation stroking. Neither was there any need for variations of speed or technique to prolong the performance, the priority was to bring himself off as efficiently as possible. It didn't take long. His dad's `Special Gift' Number One had provided the curtain-raiser, Number Two took things to the end of Act 1 and the relentlessly rhythmical up and down motion of Dan's hand soon brought him close to the climactic end of Act 2. But then, just as he became aware of the cum readying itself to explode onto the stage (actually the bedroom floor, but you can follow the metaphor) an idea came into his head that was worthy of an Oscar-winning script writer. Taking his hand from his shaft, he moved it to the empty pouch of Number Two jock and quickly slipped his quivering dick back inside. A couple of strokes to the outside of the pouch and the star of the show was surging out of his balls, rushing up the tube on the underside of his dick, bursting out of the wide open pee hole and oozing through the bright blue fabric before sliding downwards and finally dripping onto the rug.
Dan's torso collapsed until he was sitting on his heels, his breath coming in desperate gasps and his eyes mesmerised by the sight of the brand new Number Two jock acting like a cum sieve. Shit! How was he going to get that past his mum and into the laundry? How, indeed, was he going to explain such an outrageous item of clothing to her at all? Maybe it needed to stay a father-son secret. As the old adage says, What the eye can't see, the inquisitive mother can't be asking questions about. It must be time for breakfast.
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