In this hot, sexually explicit tale of intergenerational gay love, Mr. Johnson is reluctant to make a pass at the attractive eighteen-year-old who delivers his local newspaper even though he has reason to believe the young man is interested in him sexually. When young Albie makes it clear that he is indeed interested, Mr. Johnson makes his move and they enjoy some extremely wild times.

Hot stuff for those who love it steamy. Not for the prudish! Adults Only, Eighteen+!

"You know, I'm not such a pervert that I'd try to seduce a paperboy normally, but now that you're actually a paperman and looking so sexy in those hot little shorts and barely there shirt, I've got half-a-mind to make a pass at you, Albie."

I smiled and winked. Albie frowned and looked down at his sandaled feet.

"Yeah, well, the thing is, I really like doing my paper route, and I know it's not a lot of money, but there aren't that many good jobs in town that pay all that much better, so even though I'm eighteen now..."

I thought that was a strange response, but I found out in a later conversation that his parents were on his case about wanting him to find a more "grown-up" job. I'd unknowingly poked a sore spot of his.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to suggest I think you're too old for the job. That's not what I was getting at. Hell, the guy who delivers my New York Times subscription is older than I am! Does his route in his station wagon and just flings the papers out the driver's side window from the curb. You're a much better deliveryman."

"My friend is a bagger at the grocery store and he keeps trying to get me to hire on there," Albie said. "But I think I'd go nuts cooped up in that crowded store with all those customers and other workers. I'd much rather be out and about on my bike making deliveries and getting some exercise."

"I can understand that," I said.

"But, yeah, anyway... you said something about seduction?"

Albie smiled and bit his lower lip.

"Oh, yes, I did, didn't I?"

Then I did something I'd wanted to do for years but always resisted. I combed my fingers into Albie's fluffy, wavy brown hair and mussed it.

"I've always admired your big muscles, Mr. Johnson," Albie whispered. "I've always wanted to feel your chest and arms."

"Go right ahead, Albie."

I continued to muss his hair and rub the back of his head. I wrapped my other arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. He slipped one hand inside my robe and massaged my powerful chest muscles.

And Away They Go!