Jason and Amare 4 and 5

Stripped For Florida: Jason and Amare 4 and 5

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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JASON AND AMARE

A Stripped For Florida story in eleven parts

Part 4
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Clearwater

Jason had run onto the beach like a boy starved! The scene was like the familiar Jersey Shore, but a hundred times better. The buildings were taller, the sand whiter, the water warmer, the surf nearly non-existent. But none of that mattered; there were boys, boys, boys. Boys in tight suits, boys in jammers, boys in surf shirts, and boys naked, nude, stripped, tanned, burned, naked, naked, naked. All else forgotten, Jason let his eyes feast.

He'd latched on pretty quickly to the gay boy scene. Clothed or not, the signals were the same ones he knew from home. Stripped naked, he hoped his shyness had been stripped away, too. Back home he certainly suffered his share of insults. Doesn't every middle school boy? "Hey homo." "Watcha doing fag?" "Watch your backside around Jason." There were the boys who hurled the insults and the ones who took them -- usually silently. Every once in a while some kid would mouth back, "Wanna make something of it?" or "Oh, yeah, what about your brother?" Jason was observant enough to note that whatever determined the division into givers and receivers, it had almost nothing to do with who was gay or who was straight. While Jason had known for ever that he was attracted to boys, he had too good a sense of self-preservation to let anyone else in on the secret. Besides, he was shy. Today, he had been willing to change all that. He'd found the scene on the beach, kidded around with the boys, wiggled his hips, pursed his lips and showed off his body. He found he enjoyed being seen as well as looking. The banter came easily enough and next thing he knew the crowd had swirled him along and they were walking down the row of shops facing the beach.

The boys who wore swim suits gravitated toward the surf shops and clothing stores, talking fashion and trying things on. Jason found out soon enough that he and the other stripped boys were barred from doing more than running their fingers along the racks of clothing. There was an entirely different scene going on that Jason found fascinating. Boys were coming out of shops airbrushed in bright colours, or with simple stripe or dagger designs etched in temporary ink along their flanks. There were entire stores specializing in glittering micro-gem skin implant designs. Some of Jason's new acquaintances dragged him into one of the back rooms. In the eerie blue of black lights boys on small stages twisted and turned, modelling micro-implants that were invisible in regular light. Jason shuddered as he imagined the pain of getting the implants placed along his penis shaft. Two of the boys on stage had raging hard-ons that shimmered and flashed with the special gems. In fact, it seemed like a lot of the boys he'd seen today were hard. How did they manage to stay that way for so long? He was used to waking every morning with an erection. At various times during the day he'd quickly try to think himself away from getting hard, or manage to stand behind a tree or the tent or something until a spontaneous erection went back down. But several of the boys he'd met on the beach had been rock hard since the first moment he'd laid eyes on them.

The next shop did permanent tattoos, but also total body shaves, permanent laser hair removal, and piercings. Jason watched spellbound as employees lathered up a boy and ran razors cleanly over the skin, leaving his body smooth and silky. In the back, the piercings were done in open booths. Jason watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as a father brought in a boy not much older than himself, signed permission forms and stood alongside the wall to watch. Store employees prepped the boy's penis with antiseptic, gave him an injection in his thigh and after letting the local anaesthesia take effect began work. Jason had never imagined it possible to run something into the pee hole and urethra and actually come out through the top of the boy's penis! A stainless steel ring was run through the whole thing and then soldered in place. The boy craned his neck to see what was going on and gave his father a little grin. "You're looking good there, boy, looking good," praised his father.

In this way Jason immersed himself in the boy scene along the beach. He drifted in and out of groups of boys as they moved from one place to another, sometimes seeing some of the original guys he'd met on the beach and then moving on with a totally different crowd. Groups of boys drifted up and down the boulevard, bikini clad or nude, dazzling in micro-gems, airbrushed, shaved or tanned to deep hues. His uncle had shown Amaré and Jason the spot at the pier where they were all to meet at 7:00 in the evening. He had been quite clear about it. At that point Jason had let himself get swept up in the scene. But by now all sense of time and responsibility were quickly fading away at the periphery of his awareness.

Dusk descended and a blazing light show of pinks, oranges and turquoise exploded over the Gulf. On any other day Jason would have been mesmerized by the unbelievable spectacle. But when one of the gang nudged his shoulder, "Hey, man, we're hitting the clubs -- want to come?" he was off. They worked their way up the streets headed away from the Gulf, laughing and talking all at once, bodies bumping up against one another. With his newly attuned fashion sense, Jason checked out the boys in the group. One boy had elaborate micro-gem butterfly patterns inlaid across his buttocks, up his lower back and reaching around to his abdomen. Two boys had penis piercings, although nothing as elaborate as what Jason had watched in the tattoo parlour Several boys had splurged for airbrushing that would need to be washed off by the next day. There were even a couple of boys who sported no jewelry or adornment at all -- just plain skin, like Jason. He thought most of these boys were from Florida, as tanned and comfortable as they were in their bodies. But he wasn't entirely sure of that. After all, just a week in the woods and on the river and he was pretty tanned himself.

The boys jostled up the sidewalk, lit by streetlights, stores and the headlights of oncoming traffic. A few times they spilled out into the street itself, cars honking as they swerved not to hit them. The boys laughed and ran up ahead, dodging traffic. Jason saw a couple of boys duck into a doorway ahead. When he came even with the place the boys next to him grabbed his arm and gestured him to follow. They slipped into an unmarked metal doorway and Jason found himself in a long corridor. A little farther along they opened another door. It was dimly lit. Wiring connected various pieces of equipment and lights could be seen through the gap in black curtains. Jason could hear loud music and the sound of people talking and laughing. The boys edged themselves carefully along the edge of the wall, stepping over wires and cables. Following the boy ahead of him, Jason stepped through another gap in the curtains and found himself inside a large space. A stage to his left was lit by red, yellow and blue theatre lights. Evidently they had just come in from behind the dark curtains along the back. In front of the stage was a moving mass of people, gyrating to music and speckled by the constantly moving flicker of lights and a large disco ball overhead.

"Enjoy yourself, man! This is the best club in town. You might even find a lover boy to take you home for the night." He felt an encouraging squeeze from the boy who'd helped him navigate the darkness backstage, and then he was alone. Jason gaped out at the moving mass of dancers. As his eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark and the flashing lights he picked out individual dancers: naked young men, micro-gems flashing on their skin; older men in tight-fitting t-shirts, tank tops, or leather; a couple of very tall, broad-shouldered women in sequined gowns. Before Jason could decide what to do a good-looking young man took him by the arm. The man crooned seductively low in his ear, inviting him onto the dance floor. Jason found his naked body squeezed tight between the dancers as the young man guided him expertly through the crowd to an opening directly under the disco ball. Remembering that he was not going to be shy tonight, Jason began to breathe again, let the pulse of the pounding music seep into his bones, and began to sway and groove to the beat. When the song reached its end another began just as Jason found himself being handed off to another man, swirling him through the crowd to another space where they could move together. For what seemed like hours and hours Jason danced until his throat felt parched with thirst, his feet worn out from pounding on the floor, his ears throbbing from the incessantly loud thrum of the dance beat. When he was sure he could take it no more he felt himself enveloped in supportive arms and held against a man's broad and welcoming chest. Jason let himself be held, comforted by the touch. The man led him to the side of the dance floor to a small table. A long bar ran beside the tables. Gesturing to the bartender, the man ordered something small and red and offered it to Jason. The liquid was sweet and bitter and like fire, but it warmed Jason's body and he looked up into the man's face.

The man who held him close was about 5 foot 9, had dark hair sprinkled with grey, was dressed in casually expensive dark trousers and a jacket over a white t, and had a gold stud in one ear. He was slightly stocky, but felt sturdy and strong. Jason could not say what his age might be except that it was somewhere over 50. "Let's get you out of here," spoke the man gently. "I think you've probably had enough dancing for one evening and I think all your young friends have found their way to other parties by now." With that, the man walked Jason out to the front entrance, tipped the bouncer a couple of large bills and still holding Jason close guided him to a black Lexus parked by the curb. The seatbelt automatically fastened over Jason's nude body as the door closed; the man slipped into the driver's seat and started up the car with a barely perceptible hum. Soon they were gliding through the darkened streets and out onto a four-lane highway. The man accelerated, driving fast, but the car was smooth and he kept it under easy and tight control. Jason drifted near sleep. The fatigue was catching up with him. He'd had a long day of sun, beach, shops, dancing and thousands of new sensations. When the car slowed to a stop, Jason opened his eyes long enough to see the man punching numbers into a pad; a metal gate slid out of the way. Jason read the lit sign at the side of the drive, "Calido Naturist Villa Resort." The car glided through the opening and sped through the dark. Every once in a while they would pass a large home, lit by hidden lights. The eerie apparition of a fountain lit from underneath with blue and yellow lights poured water upwards into the dark as the car banked a corner. A garage door opened ahead. The car slid inside and the driver turned off the engine.

END PART 4

Part 5

"We're home, young lad. Welcome!" He walked around the car and opened the door. As he did so the seatbelt automatically slid back and Jason stepped out. The two proceeded from the garage into the house. "You can take a shower right in here while I get us something to eat. You are my visitor and we shall spare no comforts," the man announced grandly. Jason giggled at the exaggerated gesture. The man led Jason into a large bathroom. "The shower is in here, there's soap, shampoo and body wash. I'm putting out a fresh towel. When you're done just step through this other door here and we'll eat. Take as long as you like."

The shower made up its own little room and featured a large overhead fixture and several nozzles along the sides. Jason experimented with the various knobs and settings. The water jetting over his skin felt wonderful. He realized he was filthy; sweaty and dirty from a long day outdoors and then dancing. For the first time he felt embarrassed to have been riding in this man's fancy car while covered in dirt. Oh well, he thought, he'd get clean now. The soaps and shampoos were arranged on a little tray and Jason tried a little of each. He scrubbed his skin and dug his fingers down into his scalp when he washed his hair. He made sure to get into all the crevices that boys can forget to wash, including his armpits, neck, behind his ears, crotch, backside and between his toes. In spite of his long day he began to feel more awake as the strong jets massaged his skin. He turned off the water and padded out of the shower. He had never imagined that a towel could be so soft. He rubbed himself down with it for a few extra minutes just for the sensation on his skin. Placing the towel back on the counter he walked out the door the man had indicated. The room in front of him was carpeted in a rosy salmon colour. A low table sat in the centre of the room with two cushions on either side. Over the table hung a large round light fixture that appeared to be made of some type of paper. There were no other furnishings or decor in the entire room.

"The prince has returned! Let's eat," announced the man. Jason giggled again, flattered by the attention. He was glad to be clean now that he was on view for the first time in bright light. The man was naked now as well, although he looked so natural in his skin that Jason almost didn't notice. His skin was evenly bronzed with no tan lines. In addition to the earring studs, a blue bead hung from a small ring through his scrotum. His musculature was well-defined and his stocky body showed no trace of flab. The man stepped out of the room and was back in a minute with a large tray, which he set down on the low table. He lowered himself onto one of the cushions and gestured at the other, "Please, have a seat."

Jason sat opposite and let the man place various items on his plate. There were cubes of melon, cherries, and slices of mango. Small round balls turned out to be sticky rice encrusted with large black sesame seeds. Browned cubes of something were dipped in a sweet salty sauce that Jason particularly liked. There was a cold soup garnished with pecans that they drank from large cups. Dark chocolate and raspberries completed the feast. The tray was artfully arranged, and it did not seem like a huge quantity of food. The various tastes complimented one another in ways Jason wouldn't have expected and the entire repast was light and flavourful. Jason was surprised that so little food could be so satisfying.

"Let me show you my home," declared the man, rising. He reached for Jason's hand and the young teen rose as well. Hand in hand they walked through a few more rooms. The floors were all covered in the same soft carpet, but the colours varied from room to room: a soft teal blue, creamy white, warm grey There were no furnishings in any of these rooms, although the walls were adorned with a few pieces of artwork. The fourth room was carpeted as well, a dusky rose colour, and in the centre of one wall was a set of lacquered black doors with some type of squiggly script running vertically in gold leaf down each side. At the far end of the room was a low table and a pile of cushions set in the bay of a large curved window. "This is where we do our worship," announced the man. "Tonight I will worship you." Guiding Jason to the bay window he indicated that he should lie down. "This is a massage table," explained the man. "Lay on your stomach and place your face in the special cradle over here. It lets you keep your neck in a good position and breathe freely. I'll just put a cushion under your legs down by your feet."

A copper bowl filled with oil rested on metal legs over a small candle. The man dipped his hands into the oil, rubbed his them together and began working on Jason's feet. "I love your feet. They have been traveling, touching the earth, enjoying the great outdoors. Your feet feel authentic. They have not been bound up in shoes or crushed by pounding on too much concrete. Yes . . . I love your feet . . . tell me, what is your name, you amazing boy!"

"I'm Jason," replied the boy, quickly falling into bliss.

The man eased the tension out Jason's feet, rubbing his thumb into the soles, releasing the tightness in his ankles, gently squeezing and pulling on each toe. He worked his way up into Jason's calves, oiling the skin before working deeper into the muscles. Up the leg, the man started longer strokes, working from his lower back all the way down to the feet in sweeping movements. Jason sighed as he felt the man's strong hands start to blend tension out of all the various muscles of the buttocks. The man now moved up to Jason's shoulders, expertly working out upper body tension, down the arms. He spent a good while working each hand, easing down each finger and massaging the tension out of the muscles of each thumb.

"You have wonderful hands, Jason." said the man after a long period of silently working on the teen's naked body. "I can feel the creative energy pulsing out of the fingertips. Do you paint, design, play music?"

"I paint," answered Jason, thinking of the swirls of clay that he painted on Amaré each morning they had camped in the woods. He had never painted before that, but he loved patterns in nature, in art, in cloth. Painting patterns on bodies--more specifically on Amaré's body--had been a revelation to Jason. His mind brimmed with creative ideas.

After working over his back for some time, the man spoke gently. "Time to turn over, Jason, whenever you're ready. Just move down a little on the table so I can put a pillow under your head."

Jason hesitated a moment. How silly, he thought. I've been naked for days, a week, more than a week. Thousands of people saw me naked yesterday. What am I worrying about. He turned over. The man put a pillow under his head and adjusted the other pillow so that it supported Jason's legs slightly bent at the knee. The man started again at Jason's feet, working the tops of his feet and up the legs, working out the kinks all around the knee caps. When he got to the thighs, the man shifted his position to the side of the table and worked from the top of the left hip and down the thigh. Jason was extremely aware of how close the man's hands were to his pubic area. As the man worked the thigh, his hands moving inward on the leg, Jason could feel his penis twitch. The man shifted to the other side of the table and began working on the right thigh. Jason didn't know how long he was going to be able to delay getting hard -- already his penis was probably halfway erect, although without being able to see Jason had the strange sensation of not really being sure.

The man moved up to the end of the table. With subtle movements he carefully rocked Jason's head slightly to the left, then right, forward, then back. Jason felt his entire neck and shoulders release pent up tension. At the same moment, inexplicably, Jason's penis went rock hard. The man continued to work Jason's neck, head and face, tracing along his brows and cheekbones, working tension out of the jaw, giving minute attention to the intricacies of each ear. Jason's penis throbbed. It pulsed hard, stiff and fully in the air parallel to his belly. The man continued to work deliberately and without hurry, as if throbbing teen erections were an every day feature of this room of worship.

The man refreshed the oil on his hands and laid them in the centre of Jason's chest and stroked outwards, opening up the muscles. Jason moaned. His penis hardened even more, the tip nearly touching his flat abdomen. The man continued to work on Jason's torso, getting closer and closer to the throbbing centre of his being. His hands moved along Jason's belly, to either side of the organ. When Jason thought he couldn't stand it any more the man inquired casually, "Do you mind if I apply some oil to your penis, Jason."

Jason shook his head, "I don't mind; I mean, it's okay."

The man oiled Jason's penis carefully, not applying too much pressure, pulling up on the skin, but not down. It was evident he was pleasuring the boy without making him come too soon. Staying precisely on this side of the edge of orgasm he prolonged Jason's arousal for another fifteen minutes of extensive penis massage, working his hands through the scrotum, cradling each testicle, running his finger down each vein and ridge in the hardened penis. Jason writhed on the table in the agony of pleasure. He'd longed for this. He wanted a lover. This is what he had hoped for each morning when he awoke to find Amaré's hand on his penis. Why hadn't Amaré done this? Why did a total stranger know more about how to love him and please him?

END PART 5

(The End)