Bobby finds a new object of his brand of affection, a hunky blond adonis employed as Bobby's gardner named Ryan. So Bobby sets the trap....


Bobby - Chapter 5: Bad Day in the Backyard
by Amalaric
Series: Bobby

A year had passed since Bobby’s memorable eighteenth birthday party and, as he considered it now, lately it had been pretty dull. Really, there was no good reason for that since at home he could do more or less as he pleased; out on the edge of town, parents rarely around and, when they were, his whims were generally humored by their funny notions of ‘progressive’ child rearing. ‘Ahhh,’ Bobby chuckled to himself as he gazed from his bedroom window, ‘boys will be boys.’ He couldn’t ever remember being disciplined at home. School, of course, was a different story. He hated school, though he possessed a shrewd intelligence. No, it wasn’t so much the teachers; they treated him with a certain degree of distance, like a mildly poisonous insect. He did well in his classes, and the teachers stayed off his back. The problem was the other kids. When he walked by the girls he could hear them snicker or catch sight of their wrinkled noses, rolling eyes, expressions of, well, disgust. They were the ones who were supposed to have cooties, but they treated him as if he had something far worse. Bobby claimed not to give a shit. The guys, however, gave him a lot of trouble. How many fucking times had he endured the ritual of having his scaly underwear yanked up into the crack of his great, quivering white ass, or absorbed a punch in the mighty expanse of his soft, hairless belly? Too many.

Bobby did have a few friends and they were more or less outcasts like himself. ‘More’ in the sense that each of his friends was quirky, a geek so to speak, into strange stuff like eating boogers or buzzing on weird lap top stuff until their eyes fuzzed over. ‘Less’ in the sense that Bobby was the ringleader, the brains behind the operation, and Bobby’s fantasies went far beyond those of his friends. They picked on the little kids, cornering them and pulling their pants down around their ankles, maybe a little diddling of pale quivering pricks or slapping their sobbing bellies red, stuff like that, but he had spent a memorable night with a very big kid indeed, just a year ago, and he couldn’t get that night out of his mind. His friends all worshipped him and this, Bobby reflected with a degree of self-pitying wistfulness, placed a burden on his shoulders. To put it simply, it was usually up to him to think of something fun to do.

Last week he had turned nineteen and the day passed uneventfully. This pissed him off. He wondered how Jim had fared in the past year? He missed his Jim. Bobby sat, staring out of his bedroom window, his mood darkening, pecker twitching, up and down like a crazy barometer charting the tempest of his thoughts. And those storm-dark, turbulent thoughts were increasingly centered, like the clear eye of a mental hurricane, on a new project- an adventure- that Bobby had contemplated for some time now. His nineteen year old dick shivered into torpid life, as the object of his complex plan, all unknowing, labored not thirty feet from Bobby’s window. His name was Ryan.


Bobby loved watching Ryan from the shadows of his room, standing or sitting slightly back from the window, sometimes peering through a crack in the drawn curtains. The experience was sweet torture because it forced him to exercise his rich imagination. If eyes could touch and feel Ryan would have screamed but, of course, they couldn’t and so he went about his business with a stupid look of labored concentration on his handsome face and Bobby caressed his quarry’s luscious muscular beauty from a safe distance, waiting like a patient spider for the moment to arrive when he would have his wide-eyed victim, helpless and terrified, in his power.


Then, his insatiable, groping hands would verify what his fantasies suggested. It had, however, been a long wait. Bobby’s patience had been severely tested by what his chattering imagination ran before his inner vision. The problem was not just proximity, it was also visibility. You see, Bobby hadn’t yet seen Ryan’s strapping young body naked, how could he? But, how desperately he wanted to! Today he savored a special treat, riveted to the window, watching with bated breath as Ryan paused in his work, wiped a wet handful of sweat from his forehead and casually stripped off his shirt.


Ryan worked for Bobby’s parents as a gardener and usually came over a couple of times a week, laboring among the paths and plants of the extensive grounds surrounding the house. He was twenty seven years old, still single and, to be honest, not all that bright. He had managed to finish high school with a low C average, called it quits after that and went into business for himself contracting gardening work at residences and a few small office buildings. It wasn’t much of a living, but it gave him his independence and he loved the athletic nature of the heavy outdoor work. It certainly seemed to suit him as he made up in sheer physical perfection whatever he may have lacked in intelligence. This physical, animal, vitality was irresistibly augmented by his simple, almost naive, nature. Ryan had a ready smile for everyone and the open, good looks that made him a man’s man and the ladies’ heart throb. Bobby watched him now, from the safety of his shadows, as Ryan stood, unaware, pausing from the heavy work of digging trenches. The days had been bright and hot and Ryan’s short, dark blond hair, spiked wet with sweat, glowed in the light. Bobby noted his thick eyebrows, nearly white in the glare, the clean, straight line of his sun-reddened nose, two-day growth of golden, sandpapery stubble on his set jaw, wide, expressive mouth, and, above all, those masculine, deep blue eyes that spoke, at the same time, of soulful wildness and kid-like playfulness. He had the feeling that Ryan would charge into battle or laughingly wrestle with a ten year old with equal abandon. Bobby continued, ritualistically, for the thousandth time, with his intimate visual examination. Ryan stood, now, with his back to the window and Bobby marveled at the smooth, perfect, sun kissed golden skin covering the rippling muscles of his frame. His broad shoulders were streaked with the sweat of honest labor and tapered along the cleft of his spine to a narrow waist bound loosely by his belt-less gray trousers. Bobby noted the pelt of fine golden hair at the lower extremity of Ryan’s dimpled back disappearing into the half inch of blinding white briefs visible above the sagging trousers, which, nevertheless, tightened and swelled over the pressure of his muscular ass. Sated by this rear end vista of perfect manhood, Bobby thought to himself, ‘Turn around, Ryan. Turn around’ and, is if by the force of an invisible will, Ryan turned languidly and offered Bobby his most coveted view. His chest was broad, smooth and slick with sweat, pecs well defined with rosy-brown nipples, muscled arms hung slightly bowed with fine golden hair peeking from beneath the pits, dusting his forearms, and running in a broad rivulet from navel to the elastic waistband of shorts visible above the low dip in the front of his trousers. Below that was uncharted territory, so near and yet so far, but boldly suggested by the creased material at Ryan’s crotch framing a bulge of sizeable proportions. Bobby drank it all in, his aroused dick leaking a wide blotch into his trousers as he fantasized about dashing into the yard, ordering Ryan to stand still and place his hands firmly behind his head, and then ripping those pants wide the wind, to the weather, to Bobby’s cruel, creative intentions.


Bobby had had his eye on Ryan for some time now and, in fact, Ryan pretty much filled his waking thoughts and even, sometimes, his dreams. There was a slight problem, though, in that Ryan was not going to be Bobby’s birthday present (a week gone now), handed to him ‘wrapped’ (so to speak), fresh in his young studly vigor, spiced with healthy fear and ready (or not) for some rough play. No, Bobby would have to capture this skittish buck himself, like a wild animal lured into a trap and now, he thought to himself deliciously, the trap was ready to be sprung.

7- Ryan Cornered in the garage

Ryan was surprised when Bobby called to him from the doorway of the open garage. Usually the creepy kid just hung around in sullen silence, staring surreptitiously, looking (if not acting) obnoxious. ‘Hey, Ryan, could you come here for a minute? I want to show you something,’ Bobby shouted across the yard. Ryan put his shovel down, considered putting his work shirt back on, reconsidered, and sauntered bare-chested toward the house. He approached the open door where Bobby stood and stopped, facing him, standing in the hot sunlight. Bobby felt waves of lust wash over him as he contemplated the warm, muscled flesh of his intended victim. He inhaled the pungent odor rising from Ryan’s slick torso like incense; a mixture of warm sweat with an indefinable muskiness under laid by the merest hint of fresh deodorant hastily applied after his morning shower. He also caught a whiff of nervousness as the hulking jock waited patiently before him and he briefly imagined Ryan as a recalcitrant young slave, not quite broken in, anticipating punishment for some infraction. ‘I’m afraid you’re in a bit of trouble, Ryan,’ Bobby said as he fished some photographs from his pocket. Ryan’s open face creased into a perplexed frown as he took the pictures from Bobby, then deepened as he realized what they were. ‘Breaking and entering is a crime, you know,’ Bobby said with convincing solicitude, all the time studying Ryan’s frown. ‘This was the tricky part’, he thought. Fat stomach filled with butterflies, he waited for Ryan’s response. Ryan simply couldn’t believe his bad luck. A million justifications flitted through his mind. The fact was, Bobby’s dad had stiffed him a couple of weeks before. Ryan had done some extra work and the tight jerk refused to pay for it. Ryan wasn’t rich, and he couldn’t afford to walk away from the steady income that this job afforded, so he took matters into his own hands. Thinking himself very clever (his first mistake), Ryan had waited nearby until he was sure that the family was out. Approaching the house, he jimmied the lock on the front door, entered, and took two bottles of whisky from the cabinet in the dining room and a small wad of cash that he found on a dresser in the master bedroom. That, in his mind at least, made up for the work he had done in good faith and never been paid for. Now, it seemed, that the family hadn’t all been away nor the house empty. Bobby, quiet as a cat, had been there, following like a shadow, taking snaps of the whole episode. ‘Fuck!!!’ Ryan thought, ‘What am I going to do?!’ Then it occurred to him that the easy solution was just to pocket the photos and walk away. Who was this fat slug of a kid to stop him? Ryan shoved the incriminating evidence in his pocket, flashed Bobby a devilish scowl and turned to leave. Bobby laughed and said, ‘Those were copies Ryan...’ and Ryan’s broad, naked shoulders slumped visibly as he slowly turned and again faced his nemesis. Bobby knew in that instant that his carefully laid trap was going to hold this gorgeous, kicking, jacked up prize. Ryan was his (though he didn’t realize that quite yet) and Bobby celebrated by lightly cuffing his new slave boy lightly on his golden head, pinching the short blond hairs in his fingers and utterly savoring the look of stunned surprise on the stupid jock’s handsome face. It was the first time Bobby had touched Ryan and the feel of him as Bobby rapped the back of his skull sent an electric shock straight through his fingers to his groin. The plan was progressing nicely.

Bobby didn’t want Ryan to feel too threatened yet, in fact, he needed to be tricked into thinking that there might still be a way out of this mess. ‘You know,’ Bobby said, ‘you could go to jail for something like this.’ He doubted that this was true, but the distraught jock seemed to believe it. ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘you could lose a lot of your jobs,’ and that was certainly true. Bobby put on a self-righteous little kid kind of voice and said, ‘You seem like a nice guy, Ryan, and I wouldn’t want to see anything like that happen...but what you did was bad and you should be punished!’ Ryan didn’t say anything at first. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way out. Now, he looked up quizzically and said, ‘What do you mean Bobby?’ Bobby practically bit his tongue in a desperate attempt to stifle his glee, instead putting on a pouting face he lied, ‘Well, when I’m bad my dad punishes me. You should be too. If I tell my dad...or show him the pictures... he’ll call the police,’ Bobby paused meaningfully, ‘so, tell you what Ryan, I’ll punish you instead and then throw the pictures away and....and everything will be ok!’ Bobby smiled, knowing it sounded a little lame, but trusting his instincts. Ryan just looked confused and that, for the moment, suited Bobby fine. ‘You want to punish me?’ Ryan seemed genuinely perplexed, not necessarily scandalized. ‘How could you do that? What kind of punishment?’ He was having some trouble wrapping his head around the concept of a fat fifteen year old geek in that role. Stupidly, he was still thinking in terms of cops, jails, lost jobs and revenue. Bobby had something completely different in mind. He shed the little kid act and switched to an equally preposterous adult role. In a firm, commanding voice he said, ‘That’s for me to worry about. Are you willing to take your punishment?’ and then he added, ‘after that we’ll forget this whole thing.’ Ryan was hooked. He didn’t really understand, but he figured whatever unpleasantness the little shit had in mind would soon be over and he would then get on with his life. ‘Well, ok...I guess so,’ he drawled and Bobby slowly looked him up and down in a way that made him reconsider for an instant, but it was already too late. Ryan, thinking his punishment was going to commence immediately waited as Bobby stared straight at his naked chest. ‘What should I do?’ he asked plaintively. Did the kid want him to drop his pants and bend over the rail of the porch for an ass blistering? He had a vague, barely articulated feeling- had it for a while now- that the kid would like to see him drop his pants. ‘Come back Saturday morning at ten,’ Bobby said, then exhaled loudly, turned, and disappeared into the house slamming the door behind him. Ryan shook his head and went back to his digging. Bobby, smiling ear to ear, rushed to the phone, picked it up, and dialed a couple of friends.


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