Chapter 5

"So, what happened to you?" Bob asked after Timmy's shower. Bob had given Timmy a big hug despite the reek, and had laid out some more of his son's clothing for him. Now they were sitting in Bob's cozy kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate.

"Uh..." Timmy trailed off. Tears had sprung to his eyes, and he avoided Bob's query by staring out the window.

"Uhoh," Bob said, "it must have been something bad. Come here." He gently pulled Timmy against his chest.

Timmy was caught off guard, and surprisingly burst into tears. He sobbed and sniffled while Bob rubbed his back. Timmy was furious at himself; he had promised to keep himself safe by never showing any weakness to anyone.

"Tell me," cajoled Bob.

Timmy vigorously shook his head NO. Bob sighed. "It won't get better unless you tell someone, my friend," he stated.

"No," insisted Timmy in a wobbly voice. He pushed back from Bob, and sat a safe distance away, turning back to the hot chocolate.

Bob reached out and brushed some wisps of hair away from Timmy's forehead. "When you are ready," he said, "I want you to tell me."

"That won't happen," Timmy avowed, stubbornly.

Bob threw up his hands. "Okay, okay. I know when I'm beat. Say, let's put something stronger in our chocolate, ok?"

"Yes, please!" Timmy agreed, relieved that Bob had stopped pushing. Bob went to his liquor stash and returned with an unopened bottle of Bailey's.

"Oh, yeah!" Timmy asserted when he spied the brand. He eagerly held his cup out to be topped up. "Ummmm," he purred when he tasted it. "This is soooo good." Bob beamed, happy to have made Timmy smile again. He didn't hesitate to make another round when the first was gone.

With all that he had been through, the booze went quickly to Timmy's head. He caught a nice little buzz right away. "Ohmigod, I gotta remember to go to work in the morning," he slurred.

At first he didn't notice that Bob had come up behind him, but then felt Bob's hands stealing around his sides and caressing his nipples. A feeling of disgust involuntarily rose through Timmy, Bob was so OLD, and Timmy was sick of all the times he had to keep putting out for people. His disgust flipped to guilt, though, as he realized he owed Bob for being so nice. Then he felt angry about being ashamed. He couldn't deny that his nipples were inflamed, and his penis was engorging.

"I just wanna take care of you," Bob breathed out against the nape of Timmy's neck. Timmy flushed back to guilt again. Bob took his hand, and pulled him toward the bedroom. Timmy went with him, feeling obligated. Once in the bedroom, Bob began unbuttoning and unzipping Timmy's clothes, fondling each bit of body as it was exposed. When Timmy was completely stripped, Bob removed his own shirt and pants and lay back across the bed with his head propped up on the wall. He took his dick in his hand and looked at Timmy expectantly.

Timmy didn't want to, but a sense of obligation took hold of his will and moved him forward. He crawled onto the bed between Bob's legs and approached Bob's dick. He looked at it. My god, it was as wrinkled as the rest of Bob. He shuddered, shut his eyes, and tentatively took the damn thing in his mouth.

Ah, well, he couldn't taste the wrinkles. It tasted like any other cock, better maybe than the usual because it was clean, and sweet and not at all nasty. He warmed to his task somewhat, and sucked Bob to orgasm. By the time the cum surged forth, Timmy was able to eagerly swallow it down.

Bob pulled Timmy up to his own level, and held him tightly. After a moment, Bob's hands began to wander over Timmy's body. Timmy relaxed, and let himself feel the strokes. He began to respond.

Bob's wandering hand approached Timmy's butt, but Bob didn't register that Timmy had tensed up. Bob slid his hand into Timmy's crack and down to his hole.

"AAAhhhhhh!" Timmy bellowed, springing upright. He scuttled down the bed away from Bob's reach.

"Wha, what's wrong?" pleaded Bob, worriedly.

"Don't touch me there, just don't touch me there," demanded Timmy in a whine.

"Ok, I won't, sheesh," promised Bob. "Come on back here."

Timmy crawled back up, but he laid down on the pillow next to Bob rather than snuggling up to him. Bob looked questioningly at Timmy, but didn't insist Timmy get closer. It suddenly occurred to him how lucky he was that such a young boy wanted something to do with an old geezer like him. It had been many years since anyone had cared at all.

Both males, the young boy and the elder man, fell off to sleep, and snoozed right through the usual dinner hour. They woke at about midnight, had a light snack, and went to back to sleep. Timmy rested soundly after that because of his deep exhaustion. He woke up around six the next morning when he felt Bob's gaze upon him.

"What?" he confronted him.

"Just looking at you," Bob murmured fondly from where he was sitting on the side of the bed. "Breakfast is ready, come and get it."

Timmy groaned as he sat up. He stumbled into the bathroom and relieved the pressure in his bladder, noticing that Bob followed and watched closely. Shaking his head to wake up from his hangover, Timmy wandered into the kitchen with Bob right behind him.

Timmy stopped, amazed. What a layout! Bob must have been up for hours getting this spread ready. There were home baked muffins and breads, hot sausage and bacon, several kinds of eggs and cereal, and sliced fruit in abundant plenty. Timmy felt dismayed.

"Go on, sit and eat," Bob urged, nudging him toward a chair. Timmy sat. He took a small helping of scrambled eggs, and nibbled a half slice of toast with jelly. After a few bites, he pushed his plate away, feeling very queasy.

"I never eat much breakfast," he said to Bob. Bob's face fell. "Er, I mean, it makes me sick if I do."

Bob sighed sadly. "That's ok." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you anyway," Bob allowed.

"Oh? What about?"

"Well, it looks to me like you need someone to take care of you. I saw how you looked last night, seems as though someone must have really done a number to you. I don't know how you're eating, and you don't have any clothes. You don't have a car to get around with, and usually when I see you, you're all alone. You're a young boy, you need someone to care for you and about you. I'd like to do that if you'd let me." It all came out with a rush.

"Wow," was all Timmy could say.

"I rattle around in this old house all by myself now that my son has moved on in his life. I'd really like to have you live here with me. I could easily afford having you here, giving you some money and making sure you have what you need. What do you say?" Bob implored, fully expecting Timmy to be grateful and fall all over the idea.

"Shit!" ejaculated Timmy. "I dunno..."

"What? Why not? I think it's a great idea," Bob pronounced.

"You don't even know me!" shouted Timmy. "You don't want me here."