I had burst into the kitchen just as the door to the garage opened. Fumbling with the button on JP’s jeans to get it closed, I hid my hands behind the counter as my mom hung her keys up next to the door, her back turned toward me. Come on, I mentally told the jeans, which were a little tight on me. Why did he have to have such a small waist? Finally, and in the nick of time, the button clasped and my mom turned around. Whew! That was close!

“How did the rest of the meet go?” she asked cheerfully, having not noticed the extra activity that had been going on underneath the countertop.

“You mean the regatta?” I corrected her terminology, trying to carry on a perfectly normal conversation with her. “We came in last in the semis, but we weren’t expecting to win anyway.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. You’ll do better next time, I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. Why did she always talk like that, all bubbling with saccharine sweetness, like she didn’t have any clue as to how much work was put into rowing? But that was my mom; that was the way she was. It was as if she wanted to pass herself off as naive, even dumb, almost, which she really wasn’t. In reality, she was actually one of the smartest people I knew, having graduated with a Master’s degree in nursing at a time when few women went that far in their education.

And people always told me how beautiful my mom was, how she must’ve been quite an “item” in her younger days. She was tall, long-limbed and had more or less kept her figure well into her fifties. Her wispy blond hair was always falling in front of her face, forcing her to constantly brush it out of her bright blue eyes. Her smile was broad and gleaming, a remnant of her career as a flight attendant, which she went into after she received that Master’s degree – puzzling, I know.

She bewilderedly narrowed her eyes at me. I panicked slightly. “Why are you wearing that shirt?” she asked. “You never wear that shirt.”

I looked down. I had thrown on a white T-shirt – its sleeves torn off – with Rutgers Track & Field plastered across the front in red lettering. It had been my dad’s when he was in college, a star on the university’s track team. He left it behind when he moved out and I seldom wore it. “It was,” I stammered, “it was the first thing I grabbed.” Well, I wasn’t lying. Then, my mom smiled. “What?” I said.

“You’re fly’s open,” she smirked. Shit, it was! I quickly zipped it up as she brushed past me into the kitchen. “You said JP was coming home with you.”

“Yeah,” I searched my brain for an explanation as to where he was, “he’s…”

“Hi, Mrs. Andersson,” JP strategically walked into the room from the front hall as if on cue, looking as immaculate as always. His arms packed the sleeves of the black button-down shirt that he wore, the fabric clinging to his tapered torso. The top button was open, allowing his thick neck to fill the space between the collars. His thigh muscles were visible shifting beneath his beige khakis as he sauntered in from the front hall. I sprang an instant boner the moment I saw him. God, he was so hot!

“Oh hello, JP,” my mom exclaimed, startled at his sudden appearance. “You were upstairs?”

“Yeah,” my boyfriend lied. “I was checking out Matt’s CD collection in his room. Way too much classical stuff.” He let out that infectious laugh of his. My mom chuckled along, immediately taken by his charm. Who wouldn’t be? I mean, here was the epitome of the teenage boy, standing right in my kitchen – gorgeous, built, confident, courteous. He was almost too good to be true…and he was my boyfriend. I sighed inwardly.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, JP,” my mom offered as she reached into the cupboard for plates.

“I’d love to, Mrs. Andersson,” JP quickly responded, smiling broadly. Then, maneuvering around the counter, he said, “Let me set the table.” My mom stopped what she was doing and looked at the boy, her mouth slightly agape. There was a sense of pleasant surprise in her face; she was visibly amazed at his thoughtfulness. Having been brought up in a conservative Midwestern household, she valued that sort of thing in a young man.

“Well, it’s nice of you to ask,” she replied, looking over at me. “Matthew, why don’t you help him?” It was the look she gave me that made me bite my lip. I knew I was going to hear it later. I knew my mom would use JP as an example of how she wanted me to act around other adults. As much as I loved my mom, I hated the fact that she constantly compared me to others, as if indirectly telling me that I wasn’t living up to her expectations.

JP must have sensed my awkwardness because he quickly, but politely, changed the subject. “Do you mind if I ask what’s for dinner?” he grinned, taking the plate from my mom’s hands and reaching up to grab two more. I immediately hurried to the silverware drawer.

“Meatloaf with broccoli and carrots,” she answered, “and a side salad. Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds great,” JP smiled, winking at me out of sight of my mom. “That’s really healthy for you,” he mouthed. I blushed. My mom had always made sure I ate right, ever since I was a little kid. I remember one time, when I was six or so, I refused to eat my zucchini for dinner and my mom threatened to serve it to me for breakfast. I didn’t believe her, but sure enough, the next morning I woke up to find a Tupperware bowl full of nuked zucchini sitting in my place. Ever since then, I ate my veggies.

When JP and I finished setting the table, both of us barely able to keep our eyes off each other, my mom let us go upstairs to wait for dinner to be ready. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I threw my arms around my boyfriend and kissed him. Instantly, every muscle in my body relaxed as JP held me in his strong limbs.

“I’m so sorry I left you like that in the basement,” I apologized once we released, but still holding each other.

“Don’t be,” he smiled, his eyes brightening. “It’s not your fault. We’ll pick up where we left off later.” I blushed as he said that, making him laugh. “I’m taking it, you made it up in time.”

“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes, remembering the close call I had just had. “Tell me, how’d you change clothes and get from the basement to the front hall so fast?”

JP grinned mischievously as he looked toward the window. “I found a pair of your jeans in a closet and put them on, grabbed your keys out of your bag, climbed through the basement window, got my bag out of your car, changed there and slipped through the front door.”

I looked at my boyfriend, a stunned expression on my face, as he recounted his scramble. He rattled off the list as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I laughed as I let myself fall onto the bed. “What?” he said, leaning over me flirtatiously. “When you have a brother like mine, you learn a few things about sneaking in and out of houses.” I shook my head, smiling. “By the way,” he continued, lightly grabbing the button of the pants, “you should give me my jeans back.”

“Gladly,” I grinned. “They’re suffocating me, you skinny son of a bitch!”

“Who you calling skinny, mama’s boy,” he taunted playfully. I growled and attempted to wrestle him off of me. Of course, I didn’t have a shot. Even though we weighed almost exactly the same, JP was leagues stronger than I was and easily pinned my arms above my head. Our gazes caught each other for a split moment and I felt that familiar shiver run through my body. There was something about the way we were lying – JP hovering over me like a guardian angel, his muscular arms firmly holding my wrists against the bed above me – that turned me on. I felt my dick grow hard underneath the jeans.

“Since I’m a little tied up at the moment,” I said, raising my eyebrows suggestively, “maybe you can take your jeans off me yourself.” He smiled and slowly released me from his vice. Without saying a word and never taking his eyes off of me, JP shifted his body so that I could sit up. Then, straddling my lap, he helped me strip the workout shirt over my head. As I discarded it behind me, he reached forward to give me a gentle, passionate kiss on the lips. I let my boyfriend take complete control of me, leaning back so that his body was once again on top of mine.

I felt his round, hard pecs pressed into mine, those rock-hard slabs of meat dwarfing my own slender chest. His strong, thick cock was forced up against my lower abdomen and I swore it was getting even harder and thicker by the second. As our tongues continued dancing with each other inside our mouths, JP glided his left hand down along my side and in between our stomachs, searching for the button of the jeans. Groping my six-pack, he let out a slight moan of pleasure.

“Mm, you’re getting abs like mine,” he breathed. Our lips parted and I just stared into his eyes, not saying anything. “I’m going to have to start watching my back with you,” he smiled.

JP’s fingers found the button and began undoing it. Gazing at me hypnotically, he pulled down the zipper and started tugging at the jeans to get them off. I lifted my pelvis to help him, but it still took a few heavy tugs to get them over my hips. Despite my 29-inch waist, JP’s jeans were a size too small for me. Of course, they were nothing for his ripped arms, which bulged and flexed beneath his shirt with each jerk he made.

I was still wearing my crew shorts underneath, the spandex fabric clinging tightly to my crotch, my cock aching to get out. Once the jeans were down around my thighs, JP began working on this last layer. As he slid the shorts over my dick, it sprang out, almost hitting him in the face. His eyes shifted their direction to it, gazing longingly as it throbbed in anticipation. I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment of contact. I waited…and waited…and – what was he hesitating for? Suddenly, I was jolted out of my fog as another pair of jeans plopped onto my face.

“Here’s a pair of your jeans,” JP called, a hint of jest in his voice. “Put them on. I think the food is ready.”

I sat up and jerked my head offensively over at my boyfriend. “What?” I exclaimed, not quite believing what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he answered, grinning, “I just don’t like to have dessert before dinner.” He laughed heartily as I gave him a nasty, yet playful, sneer.

“You little…” I derided, rushing toward him. But then, I fell forward, not realizing that the jeans and the crew shorts were still around my legs, preventing me from moving quickly. JP burst out in hysterical laughter.

“Now we’re even,” he sniggered.

After quickly getting changed into something more presentable to my mom, we met her back downstairs for dinner. It was great. The two of them got along so well, it was like they had known each other for years. My mom immediately began treating JP like a second son. As for the food, it was as good as always. JP easily gobbled up his portion and happily asked for seconds. And my mom happily served it. Anyone who had ever been over to my house for a meal knew that my mom always tended to over-prepare when it came to food. But that didn’t faze JP. He probably would’ve even had thirds had he been less polite.

“My, you can eat a lot,” my mom commented. “Where do you put it all?” JP just shrugged. I wanted to interject about how much he had grown since I met him, but I decided against it. It would make a perfectly fine conversation turn awkward. “Matthew tells me you’re quite a good wrestler.”

My boyfriend smiled modestly and answered, “That’s because he’s mostly seen me when I win.” He peered over at me and I bit my lip. Man, he was so cute when he was humble.

“You probably don’t know this, Matthew,” my mom went on, briefly looking over at me, “but I dated a wrestler in college.” That was news to me. Sure, I had heard the stories – mostly from my aunt, so I didn’t believe most of them – of how she dated half the University of Minnesota basketball team, how popular she was with the football players, that kind of stuff. I would cringe at the thought of it. “He wasn’t as talented as you, I’m sure,” she continued, directing her attention back to JP, “but he was very nice.”

“Um, thanks, Mrs. Andersson,” the boy muttered, unsure of exactly how to respond.

“JP,” my mom leaned a little closer to my boyfriend, as if she didn’t want me included in this part of the conversation. My heart jumped. “Your brother’s on the football team, right?”

JP blinked. He obviously hadn’t been expecting this sudden change of topic; I could tell he wasn’t sure where this was going. After a slight hesitation, he nodded. “Well, then,” she continued, “you know that I give massages to some of the guys every now and then.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw JP briefly shoot a glance over at me, but I was staring intently at my mom in disbelief at what she was saying. “If you ever want one, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

My mouth fell open. Had I just walked into an episode of “Desperate Housewives?” The woman could not have just said what I thought she did…and right in front of me! JP gulped and looked down at his plate, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. He side-glanced at me, seeking help, but I didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I’ll clean up here and get the dessert out,” my mom finally said after a longer-than-needed period of silence. “It’s German chocolate cake. I’m sure you boys will love it.” She stood up and began clearing the table.

“Was your mom flirting with me?” JP asked me carefully once we were in the safety of my bedroom later that evening.

“I think so,” I replied, wincing at the prospect of my mom hitting on my boyfriend. I looked over at him. He had a look of embarrassment on his face. “I’m sorry, man,” I said.

He smiled nervously. “No, it’s ok. It was just really…weird.” We both tittered at the ridiculousness of it all. “I think,” he started, but then his voice trailed off.

“What?” I asked.

JP shook his head. “No, never mind.” I wanted to know what was on his mind, but I decided to change the subject instead.

“Hey, I should give you your birthday present,” my face brightened. JP was turning 16 the next week, but since it would be spring break and I would be away visiting family, I had promised to celebrate it with him earlier. I rushed to my closet and pulled out a plastic bag that I had hidden in there. “I didn’t get a chance to wrap it right,” I said, blushing, and handed it to him. “Happy Sweet Sixteen!”

He eagerly opened up the bag and pulled out a brand new Green Bay Packer T-shirt. “Oh, my God!” he exclaimed, a huge smile on his face. He unfolded it and held it up to look at it. “Is it…”

“Bigger than your old one?” I finished his question. “Of course. It’s the biggest size the store had. I hope you like it.”

“Like it,” JP beamed. “I love it!” He reached over and gave me an appreciative peck on the cheek, which immediately became red. “Thank you, baby.” There was something in the way he said those words that seeped through me, making my whole body tingle. “Do you mind if I put it on now?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” I said fervently, having hoped he would ask that. JP immediately stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he stopped and looked at me with a devilish grin. He knew what I wanted.

Peering at me with the most seductive glare he knew, the one that made me shudder, he slowly unlatched the next button, revealing the tight crease between his striated pecs. As each button opened, more and more of his sculpted torso was uncovered, inch by inch. His round, full chest looked magnificent above his ripped abs, the six perfectly carved hills of muscle bordered by his sexy obliques, all leading down toward his impossibly narrow waist that gave him a spectacular taper from his broad, powerful shoulders.

He stood there for a moment just gazing at me with his mesmerizing eyes. JP was flawless. He drew his hand up along the middle of his stomach, his fingers gently gliding over the contours of his abs. My breathing began to get more rapid, my heart racing. Impulsively, my hand wandered down to my dick, which was growing harder the longer I stared at my boyfriend. JP, still holding me in his hypnotic fix, moved his hand under his left pec and started fondling his nipple. Oh, my God, he was so hot! I was lost in him; I couldn’t help but worship him. My hand started rubbing my throbbing cock, as if it had a mind of its own, the rest of me taking in my boyfriend’s gorgeous body.

Then, he stepped toward me, my heart thumping inside my chest. As he did, he slowly slid the shirt over and around his shoulders, his fibrous delts flexing and popping with the slightest movement. Letting the shirt drop behind him, JP approached me on the bed and leaned closer, within inches of my face. With his left hand he reached down toward my crotch, over my wandering hand. At the same time, we touched lips, sending sparks of electricity through every pore of my body. Immediately, I blew my load in my pants, the warm liquid running down my leg.

Finally, I fell limply against the bed. JP propped himself up with his arms above me, his triceps bulging through his thin skin. “Wow,” I breathed. Beyond that, I was at a loss for words. My boyfriend just smiled and stood up again. He nonchalantly bent down and picked up the Packer T-shirt and, as if nothing had just happened, slipped it over his head and pulled it over his chest. As expected, it fit him well, only the roundness of his pecs hinting at their presence through the loose fabric.

“This shirt feels good on me,” he said. I was still speechless. Grinning childishly, he ran his hands through his short, spiked hair, and placing his hands behind his head, stretched his torso. His biceps beneath the sleeves balled up into steel-hard rocks of muscle; his chest and lats expanded outwards, filling the shirt. “Can’t do that it the old one,” he laughed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “What!” I called, snapping out of it. It was obviously my mom, but luckily she didn’t enter the room. It would not have been a pretty scene had she seen the sizable semen stain on my pants.

“I was just wondering if JP would like to spend the night,” she answered. “You know, a kind of…sleep-over.” I could tell she hesitated using a word that juvenile, as if we were two nine-year-olds, but she couldn’t think of any other way of saying it. I looked at JP with wide eyes, as he grinned back at me and bit his lip. No way!

“Um, whatever, mom!” I called back, feigning annoying embarrassment instead of the excitement I was feeling at the moment. I couldn’t believe it; JP Maloney, my secret boyfriend, was going to be sleeping with me for the first time.

“Great!” my mom continued, not realizing that neither of us was listening. “Why don’t you get the inflatable bed and I’ll get some towels for his shower.”

It sounded good enough to me. •