Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Brian C. Copper is an author that resides with his partner in a quiet suburb to the south of Boston, Massachusetts. A perpetual people watcher, many of his observations find their way into his characters. His first foray into writing takes place in a fictional small town in New England and touches upon several BDSM themes. When asked if the book is based on actual events, Brain is quick to reply, “I never go anywhere without a set of handcuffs.”
What inspired you to write your book?
This book is a continuation of the story I began in book 1. It was a self-contained story, but there were lots of options still to be explored. It was nice to be able to delve in deeper to some of the backstory and really get a good look at some of the motivations for why characters did things later in the timeline.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Welcome To The Neighborhood
Uncle Kurt wasn’t my first choice for a relative to live with after the death of my parents. But of the few options available to me, he made the most sense. He lived on the other side of Westfield, so I wouldn’t need to disrupt my school situation. The house was nice enough from the outside. Typical bachelor pad on the inside. I had my choice of the two spare bedrooms, so I opted for the one at the back of the house, putting the most distance between us in the process. The less I heard of the goings on in his room the better. There was a decent sized heated pool in the backyard too, so even during some of the cooler months I could get in plenty of swim time, which I had found to be a great way to disconnect and get out of my head.
Regardless of any of that, this was yet another situation where it wasn’t my decision. My parents had made the arrangements years ago while planning their will. Kurt was mom’s brother, and we’d certainly always gotten along well enough. But, I was of the impression that he wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with a teenager living under his roof. Ultimately though, for all parties involved, it was what my parents wanted that mattered. I was turning fourteen next month, so it would be a few years before I could start making my own choices. In the interim, I would adjust and adapt. We both would.
I had only been here less than a week and today was the neighborhood block party for Labor Day, which fell on a Monday this year. It was the perfect opportunity to meet all the new people on the street. There weren’t a lot of kids my age, and the few that were, left much to be desired in the realm of intellectual stimuli. But I had promised my uncle to at least try before shutting them all out.
This was also the day that I met Glen. Though, because he was much older than I, the introduction wasn’t an easy one, so it was more of an observational type of thing until late in the evening. Most of the adults seemed to naturally gravitate towards him, so there was barely any time that someone wasn’t chewing his ear, or making a toast, or playfully smacking his butt cheeks. He was a natural social animal and seemed to enjoy every moment of the constant attention. Everyone saw his sparkling blue eyes, constant smile and good natured laughter as an invitation to enter his personal space.
What I saw, aside from the perpetual barrier between us, was perfection.
By trade, he did construction and brick laying. As a result, his muscles were threatening to burst out of the tight neon orange t-shirt he was wearing, barely able to contain themselves within the taut fabric. His strong arms were covered with a layer of curly brown hairs, and hinted at the treasure underneath that was poking out of his collar, both front and back. His well defined legs, also covered in a similar layer of curly hairs, were on full display, jutting out from the cut-off denim shorts that barely covered his rounded cheeks. The type that would prevent most men from going commando during the warmer months.
Despite having a wife and three children, I would’ve sworn he was batting for my team. Or at the very least, he was a switch hitter. Even at my current age, my gaydar was almost never wrong. When it was pointed at someone that piqued my interest the way that Glen did, it had never failed. The one flaw in the equation was our age difference, which, as we got older would be less of an issue, but currently, would present some serious concerns in the legal realm.
Being the new kid, there wasn’t much to distract me from staring at his magnificent physique while fantasies played out in my head. Glen was the definition of eye candy in my book. One whose description would be greatly enhanced later in the day when most of the adults went on a drunken pool hopping spree up and down the street. That was when the soaked t-shirt was removed and cast aside after he’d been pushed in one of the pools by his co-worker, Paolo, who was also at the party. Actually, it was more of a flying full-body tackle that resulted in both of them venturing into the depths of the wet landing zone. Thank you, Paolo, for providing such a wonderful visual for my spank bank.
When they had ventured off to the next pool, I noticed that Glen had forgotten to bring his shirt with him. It lay discarded near one of the lounge chairs, with a small puddle underneath where the excess water spread outward around it. I picked it up and wrung it out a bit more to help it dry quicker, then headed off to watch as the drunken nomads searched for more aquatic playgrounds.
By the time they’d reached the last of the available pools, which happened to be Uncle Kurt’s, it was well after midnight and the clan had been reduced from a horde of thirty down to five brave souls. I sat watching them for a while from the patio, seated at the glass topped table. It would be nice to go for a dip as well, if for no other reason than to get closer to Glen and all of that wonderful wet fur. But I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to hide the erection I’d been walking around with the last hour or so.
My thoughts drifted off as I gazed at the hypnotic cycles of the flickering flame of the bug candle, dancing around inside its glass container. Thinking of the upcoming school year and such. I hadn’t even noticed that the clan had been further reduced to two until Uncle Kurt and Glen sat down at the table to join me.
“Glen, this is my nephew David,” Kurt said, then to me, “Glen lives right across the street.” Then to Glen once more, “Can I get you another beer ?”
“I’d better stop now before I get into trouble,” he said to Kurt, then looking at me, added a subtle wink. As Uncle Kurt went inside to fetch his beverage, Glen extended his slightly damp hand and said, “Nice to meet you David.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied, then pushed the now fully dry t-shirt towards him. “You left that back at the first pool,” I said, simply. “Thought you might be looking for it later.”
“Thank you,” he said, surprised that he hadn’t even noticed it was gone before now. He was just getting ready to say something else when Uncle Kurt returned, stumbling into his chair.
“Man I’m glad tomorrow is a holiday,” Kurt said, punctuating the statement with a hearty burp.
“That sounds like my cue,” Glen said, smiling as he got up. “Nice meeting you, David. Thanks for keeping track of this for me,” he added, picking up the t-shirt.
“No problem,” I replied, watching him as he walked around the side of the house to the driveway, venturing homeward.
“So how’d you do today,” Kurt asked, after a couple of minutes, taking another swig of his beer.
“It wasn’t too bad,” I said, not feeling it needed further elaboration.
“That’s good enough for me,” he said, finishing the bottle. Then, getting up to stagger back into the house, he added, “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t, Uncle Kurt,” I replied, staring at the candle again.
“What’s say we drop the uncle part,” he said, stopping at the doorway. “Sounds kind of formal.” Then, after a moment where I could feel him watching me, he added, “Goodnight, David.”
“Goodnight, Kurt,” I said, simply enough. Thinking that wouldn’t be so bad either.
* * * *
It would be two months before the next milestone in our acquaintance. Kurt was having trouble getting his car started one morning and Glen came over to assist, having seen the hood popped open and the frustration playing out in Kurt’s mannerisms.
“Betsy being temperamental again ?” Glen said, as he crossed the street to join us in the driveway.
“I’d tell you what’s she’s really being,” Kurt stated, “if there weren’t sensitive ears present.”
“Try to turn her over so I can hear what she’s doing,” Glen said, resting his hands on the side of the car near the battery, then turning towards me, adding, “Good morning, David.”
“Good morning,” I replied, somewhat surprised that he remembered my name.
Kurt turned the key and Betsy made some labored attempts to pretend to be an automobile. “Okay, hold on,” Glen told him, then took the screwdriver sticking out of his back pocket and proceeded to make a couple of adjustments to several locations of the engine. It all seemed very random to me. “Try it again,” he said, standing back a step so he could nod to Kurt behind the wheel. This time, the engine roared like a happy tiger and settled into a quiet idle.
“I don’t know how you do that, Glen,” Kurt said, getting out to shake his hand. “You’ve saved me yet again.”
“Happy to help, neighbor,” Glen replied. “Sounds like she needs a little tweaking though, so why don’t you plan to bring her over to the barn this weekend and I’ll give her the once over.”
“That sounds great,” Kurt said, happily. “Thank you.”
“Maybe David here would like to help out ?” Glen added, giving me a wink.
“Sure,” I replied, even more surprised at the invitation.
* * * *
Saturday morning couldn’t have taken longer to arrive. I must have jerked off at least nine times since the Monday morning invitation, playing out various fantasies of getting to spend some time with Glen. None had involved motor grease and socket wrenches, at least not the ones before the invitation, but this could be an interesting learning experience. The variables weren’t important so much as the company involved.
The barn was more of a two car garage with a loft overhead. As I crossed the street and made my way down the driveway, I could see Glen through the open door. He was wearing a mechanics coverall that zipped up the front from crotch to neck. The dark blue fabric was loose in some spots and clung very nicely in others.
“Come on in,” he said, as I had stopped just outside the doorway. “Too chilly today to leave this open.” He hit a button on the wall once I was inside and the automatic door mechanism whirred into a clinkety dissent, sealing out the elements.
Watching him work was bordering on hypnotizing, but I had to stay focused for those times that he asked me to hand him this tool or that. Little by little, the grand mystery was beginning to make sense to me. It was merely about learning what all the parts did individually to make the whole function. Glen was a great teacher, breaking down how this did that and why this needed to operate such as it did. Within twenty minutes I had a clear understanding of an automobile engine. After three hours under his tutelage, it felt like I had been doing this for months.
When we were finished, he drove the car across the street and parked it in our driveway. Then casually walked back over to the barn for cleanup time. I assisted with hanging various tools on the pegboard holders and did a bit of sweeping. When we were done, you would never have guessed what had gone on during the past few hours.
“Thanks for your help today, David,” Glen said, shaking my hand.
“That was quite a learning experience,” I said, noticing that somehow I had managed to get more dirt and grease on my own hands than Glen had, even though he had done most of the work.
“Why don’t we see about getting you cleaned up,” he said, also aware at how dirty I was. “We’ll get that grime washed off in no time.”
We made the short trek across the backyard to the basement door. Once inside, Glen gave me a quick tutorial at the basin on how to use the heavy duty soap to loosen up all the grease and dirt first, then giving it a thorough rinse to remove most of it from my hands. It had felt good to help out today, but it also felt better to be clean again once it was all finished.
Glen pulled down the zipper on the front of his coveralls, exposing his muscular furry chest hiding underneath. I had assumed that he was fully clothed inside there, but cold see now that he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He caught me staring at the fur that covered his torso, smiling when I looked up at him, then diverting my eyes with a touch of nervousness.
“Any time you see me out in the barn, you’re more than welcome to come over and help,” he said, sincerely. “A few more lessons and you’ll be fixing cars all by yourself.”
“You think so ?” I asked, not sure if he was kidding around.
“You’re a natural,” he assured me. “Once you have a complete understanding of the engine, you’ll be keeping me on my toes.” The quick wink that had accompanied that last statement wasn’t lost on me.
“You’re a really good teacher,” I said, noticing the subtle wrinkles on the outsides of his eyes as his smile widened slightly.
“It helps to have an attentive student,” he said, with a gentle tone. “If you’re not busy next weekend, I’ve got some work to do on my truck to get her ready for winter. Think you’d like to give me a hand ?”
“Yeah,” I replied, excitedly, “that sounds great.”
“Plan for 10:00 AM,” he said, his eyes twinkling slightly. “You can go with me to pick up the things we’ll need at the auto parts store.”
“See you then,” I said, extending my hand. His skin was soft and rough at the same time, radiating a comfortable warmth into my palm. I would fantasize about how the rest of him felt as soon as I got to my bedroom. Playing back scenes from the barn and basement to fuel the three times I jerked off before the day was done.
* * * *