Blake Hart
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The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 7
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 04:54:10 +0000 UTCEveryone in this story is 18+
Tuned Up and Turned On
Several days had passed since Joe taught me a lesson I would never forget. I kept replaying the encounter in my mind, unable to shake the memory, and found myself jerking off and even experimenting with fingering, craving that unfamiliar feeling of fullness. It was strange—I’d never used my ass for anything but the usual, but now that sensation had awakened something entirely new in me. The only downside? It wasn’t exactly helping in my effort to last longer before cumming…
Joe, however, hadn’t mentioned it since. He acted just as he always had—occasionally gruff but always fair, as if nothing unusual had happened between us.
Today was no different. I’d been working mostly on my own, and, to my surprise, I was actually pretty good at it. There was a real sense of accomplishment in seeing the job done right, especially when both Joe and old Tom, who rarely gave out praise, took the time to compliment my work.
I headed to the back to change into my regular clothes, and by the time I returned, Joe and Old Tom were already getting things set to close up. I helped turn off a few lights and straighten up before stepping outside.
"See you Monday, kid," Joe called out from the driver’s seat, giving me a quick nod. Old Tom waved from the passenger side, his familiar, gentle smile in place. "Take care, now," he added warmly.
As they pulled out of the lot, I heard the garage door rumble shut behind me. I took out my skateboard, ready to head home as their car disappeared down the road in the opposite direction.
As I skated down the street, enjoying the breeze in my hair, a sudden commotion from a nearby alley pulled me off course. Curiosity got the better of me, and I rolled up to the source of the noise, finding two bulky jocks crowding someone against the wall, shoving and laughing.
I squinted, recognizing that wide-eyed look—Connor, Joe’s kid, caught like a deer in headlights. My fists clenched immediately, and I stepped forward. “Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
The jocks turned, their eyes sweeping over me with thinly veiled scorn. “Who invited you, white trash?” one sneered, crossing his arms, his muscles tense but all for show. They might have had the bulk, but they moved like they were more used to lifting weights than throwing punches.
I took a step forward, holding my ground, my gaze locked on theirs. “Keep talking,” I shot back, tilting my head. “You think you know this neighborhood? Try me.”
One of them lunged, throwing a sloppy punch. I sidestepped, my fist connecting with his ribs in a quick, hard shot that left him gasping. The other one tried to grab my shoulder, but I twisted out of his grip, driving an elbow into his side. They exchanged nervous glances, realizing I wasn’t some easy target, and that I knew exactly how to handle myself.
Behind me, Connor spoke up, his voice surprisingly steady. “One shout from him, and this alley’s gonna be packed with his friends,” he said, trying to appear bigger than he was.
The jocks exchanged uneasy glances, and I smirked, nodding. “Yeah, and it’d be a shame if I had to call ’em in, wouldn’t it?”
The jocks wavered, looking between me and Connor. “Fine, whatever. Not worth it,” one muttered, still catching his breath, and they slunk off, defeated.
I turned to Connor, who exhaled, shaking off the last bit of tension. He grinned, a mix of relief and admiration.
“Nice bluff,” I said, smirking as I watched him straighten his shirt. “But you do realize this isn’t even my neighborhood, right?”
Connor shrugged, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “I figured,” he replied, dusting himself off. “But when you’re a skinny guy like me, sometimes bluffing and brains are all you’ve got.” He chuckled lightly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
“They don’t usually come around here, either. They’re from my school, so they know me. They were asking about some slum gym nearby where they could score… you know, roids or something. I had no idea what they were talking about, but when I said that, they just started in on me, like always.”
I nodded, taking it in, then noticed a faint bruise under his eye. “Are they the ones who gave you that black eye?”
He hesitated, eyes dropping to the ground before he nodded. “Yeah. Them and a couple others. Guess they don’t like that I’m a ballet dancer… and gay. Makes me an easy target for them, I guess.” His voice was quiet, but I could sense the frustration behind it, the exhaustion of putting up with their harassment.
“Well, if they mess with you again,” I said, meeting his gaze, “they’ll have more to worry about than a bluff.”
Connor looked up, a small smile breaking through. “Thanks. I’ve never really had anyone stand up for me like that before.”
Connor looked off toward the street, kicking at a loose pebble. “I was, uh, heading to my dad’s garage,” he said, glancing back at me. “I figured you were done for the day?”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied, “but you should know—he mentioned he was going away for the weekend.”
“Oh.” Connor’s face fell slightly, then he nodded, as if this was all too familiar. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He’s always nagging me to spend a weekend with him, and then he just… forgets.” He shrugged, managing a faint smile. “I usually stay with my mom, but it’s like he gets these ideas, asks me to come by, and then he’s off on some trip. Happens more than you’d think.”
There was a quiet pause, the hint of something unspoken lingering between us. I could tell he was trying to brush it off, but the disappointment was there, just under the surface.
Connor shrugged, trying to shake it off. “But, you know… whatever. He probably left a key around somewhere. And if not, I’ll just head back to my mom’s.” He gave a small smile, nodding. “Anyway, thanks again for earlier. I’ll see you around.”
He started to turn away, and I found myself calling out without really thinking. “Hey, by the way—if you’re interested, that offer for a little self-defense lesson still stands. I’ve got nothing to do, so… figured I’d mention it.”
Connor paused, glancing back with a flicker of surprise that quickly turned into something warmer, almost grateful. “Really?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I mean… that would be awesome. I could use a few pointers.”
I smiled, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get started, then.”
I pulled my skateboard up under my arm, nodding for him to follow, and we set off down the street together. As we walked side by side, the tension from before faded, replaced by a feeling I couldn’t quite place—some kind of flutter, but I wasn’t sure if it was in my stomach or lower, somewhere deep down, stirring in a way that was both unsettling and… exciting.
Comments
Anthony
Wow, really love this story so much. It looks like the discipline did him good. To take care of the boy was redeeming. Each chapter is getting heavier. The story is a keeper, truly becoming a masterpiece as I read on.
Devin
The macho father. Wanting to do something with his kid, but not really. High school kids picking and beating up the gay kid. Things never really change. Of course I’m hope thar flutter feeling is in his groin and something will happen between the two.
Garrick
🥰🥰🥰get it!
