The Boys in my Backyard

The Boys in my Backyard

The Boys in my Backyard

By Carla Davison

By Carla Davison

The ritual energized me as much as it did Jonathan.

Possessed with the svelte muscularity of toned shoulders, buttocks, and legs, Jonathan swam in place through directed jets of warm water for his twice-daily backyard routine. Enveloped in swirls of bursting bubbles that relentlessly bombarded every inch of his young athletic body, the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed boy took his backyard training seriously.

The boy's suntan was unbroken. He was between semesters but returning to the team, and swimming nude was preferable.

When Jonathan approached, following his work-out, I gently slid my hand into the tender crevice of his alluring derriere for a delicate squeeze. Otherwise, I quietly sat on the patio, working a knitting project, a canister of oil at my side, only glancing up occasionally. Predictably, Jonathan headed into the hot water and mystical ambience of the grotto. The structure, built over the jacuzzi and dug further back into the hillside, provided sufficient privacy, not that the neighbors would particularly care if they saw us. Once the waterfall was activated the privacy was complete.

Nearly a year earlier Jonathan first rode up my cobblestone driveway on his motorcycle, initially to wash my car, then to make minor repairs to the home, and eventually, to take on the responsibilities of the landscaping and the pool.

The home sat on a large lot - with a backyard pool, jacuzzi, grotto, and waterfall - and an extensive entertaining area. A casita was wedged into the far corner of the property.

Originally used as a changing room and storage for pool supplies, the casita was the size of a small bedroom, equipped with a toilet and shower. Once Jonathan became the landscaper and pool boy, I allowed him to move into the casita and call it his home. Seeing his motorcycle parked beside it, just past the pool, made the casita look like the quintessential bachelor pad.

The first time I caught a glimpse of Jonathan sunbathing nude I recoiled. I knew this about the good-looking boy when I contracted him to clean the pool, and later, when I allowed him to move into the casita. Jonathan never mentioned where he lived just prior to moving in with me, only that it was better than the group homes or shelters he'd known as an adolescent. He also didn't have any family to speak of.

Nude swimming was part of our agreement, and I suppose nude sunbathing as well, but regardless, with brisk paces, staring at my feet, I made my way to the bedroom and closed the curtains, fully - as from the vantage point of my bedroom window I could still see the entirety of the pool, and the entirety of the boy's wet lush body. Then I was off to the kitchen and dining room to close the blinds in those rooms as well.

How long would he be out there? How long could I withstand his provocations?

It took me several weeks, but before too long I became comfortable with Jonathan's backyard nudity, enough to walk out to the pool area while he was using it, and eventually, to apply oil to his back and shoulders.

Jonathan was the one who initiated this caretaker relationship, first riding up my cobblestone driveway, later feeling comfortable enough to ask if it was alright to swim nude. Then in the pool area, sprawled out before me, he asked me to apply oil, starting on his shoulders and working downward.

It was about this time that we created our pact, and established our daily ritual.

What first attracted me to Jonathan was his infectious smile that lit up his face, as well as brought a smile to my own. I later came to appreciate his diligence and good nature in every task he undertook. The improvements he made to the appearance and functionality of the house were exquisite. Our arrangement included that Jonathan joined me for breakfast, for dinners on the nights he didn't work, and that I'd also wash and mend his clothes.

Jonathan would be lost without me, and I'd be devastated if he were ever to leave, or if this arrangement had to end.

His arrival shortly followed the girls' departure.

After my daughter Katie moved out, I toyed with the idea of renting the three empty bedrooms. Living walking distance from a state university I decided to seek students for tenants. I felt that I had no choice but to choose girls, yet regardless of the stipulations in the ad, boys always applied, as they seemed all too eager to share housing with a woman. As a petite woman, I was used to this infatuation, in daily interactions anyway, perceived as being much younger than I am and routinely approached by fresh-faced boys a fraction of my age.

I quickly rented the bedrooms, and nearly as fast, evicted my tenants. The rent would have provided me a nice supplementary income, along with alimony and my monthly allowance, but the cattiness, juvenile behavior, and abject carelessness on the part of the girls - in my own home, among my fine possessions, was too much to take.

Unavoidably, during that terrible month I found myself dragged down to the girls' level of immaturity, and I had no intention of returning to sorority life. I was once again alone in my palatial estate, a veritable museum of tasteful decor, fastidious cleanliness, and unending loneliness.

Following the ordeal, how many romance movies I watched, alone on a sofa, wrapped in a blanket, crying, longing for a man to hold me and kiss me on the neck. Passionate kisses that no woman could possibly resist.

Some people might describe me as tender-hearted.

Bringing in girls was a bad idea, then one fateful day, Jonathan rolled up my cobblestone driveway.

In another half hour, Jonathan's flawless drippy boy-body exited the pool, then into the grotto - ready for his lingam massage, our daily ritual that leveraged the chthonic forces of the grotto while channeling shakti - primordial cosmic energy, from chakra to chakra. Beginning with meditation and breathwork, in the darkened environment, and amidst the warm humidity and sound of rushing water, the grotto was ideal for the spiritual practice of tantra.

Tantra isn't for everyone, but Jonathan and I enjoyed it, and it was never a race. The process started by first opening the crown chakra, located at the top of his head, and working down Jonathan's body to the sacred chakra. The lingam massage addressed the final and most dynamic link in the chain, as it unlocks a young man's most potent force, his sexual energy.

Jonathan and I created a pact to perform daily lingam massages, accompanied by precursory squeezes delicately placed in the crevice of his youthful, alluring derriere as a playful vow of my willingness to engage with him in this spiritual experience.

His nudity indicated to me his readiness for the ritual.

The goal of tantra isn't to repress sexuality but to embrace it as a sacred practice, and rather than shunning or repressing the natural sexual instinct, tantra seeks to consciously cultivate, refine, and coax this creative force into a means of transcendence and self-realization.

The playful butt squeeze was my idea.

Following the ritual, I was as energized as Jonathan, and after a month of systematically harnessing his sexual energy, opening his chakra channels, and directing wave after wave of shakti to his lingam, Jonathan practically turned into a walking towel rack when strutting about the backyard.

I picked up the phone to speak with Judy, one of my girlfriends, to inform her of my decision to bring in three male students for the empty bedrooms.

Shortly thereafter, the ad was placed in the international office of the university to exclusively accept male students, as I wanted to operate a homestay program. Japan, China, Russia, and Turkey were the most common nationalities represented. Among other factors, I sought out a mix of delightful boys whose only common language was English.

The boys would be forced to communicate in the language they were coming to the United States to master, so ultimately, an assemblage of different nationalities was in their best interest.

The ad made mention of my Aubusson rugs, culinary wizardry, and that the home is walking distance from the university, but it emphasized that the boys were signing up for a homestay program of an American cultural experience, home-cooked meals, and personalized hospitality.

The students' participation in the scheduled meals and occasional activities was essential.

Cycling through one online meeting after another with so many fresh-faced boys, the applicants were presented with a prepared slideshow of the home and commentary to explain what they were seeing, as well as a summary of the house rules. Careful to separate my words, I spoke slowly, and after interviewing forty applicants over three days, the sluggish recitation of the rules and house tour became a bit tiresome.

The homestay payment is made through the university so you and I shall not exchange any money. Your stay is contingent upon you remaining in the university. This isn't a rental, it's a homestay; you're signing up for a program. You will initially share the house with two other students, both boys, and starting off, each of you will have a private bedroom. As each bedroom comes with a bunkbed, this might change to double-occupancy. There are three restrooms for the homestay students to share.

In addition to being considerate to the other students, the following rules apply:

 Meals follow a rotating four-week schedule - a selection of both American and international cuisine. Let me know if you have a favorite meal and I'll include it in the meal calendar. Breakfast and dinner are provided to you with posted hours. If you request, I'll pack you a lunch as well.

 Thursday night we dine on the patio, outdoors, using plastic drinking glasses. No glassware is ever permitted in the backyard.

 I can do your laundry and mending for you. Just ask.

 All your belongings are to remain in your room.

 There's no smoking or alcohol.

 You're permitted to invite other boys from the university to spend the night, as we have extra cots and bedding. Let me know a few hours in advance so I can prepare enough food for everyone. There's no charge for this.

 A young man lives in a small building just beyond the pool. He's also a university student, is on the swim team, and swims nude. Because of this, no girls are allowed at the home, other than a few girlfriends of mine who might occasionally stop by.

The photos of the home and accompanying explanations were detailed yet concise.

The impressionable boys couldn't care less about the Aubusson rugs, the four-hundred thread-count organic percale sheets, the matching luxury towel sets, or the arrangement of fresh-cut flowers placed in a hand-blown crystal decanter, prominently displayed on the cherry wood dining room table, but rather the meals, the pool, and the prospect of living in what they termed a mansion.

"Who are you?" one boy asked, then further inquired if I was a former movie star.

"Every woman should live like this."

After so many interviews I learned to be unfazed by the boys' peculiar questions, but to respond confidently and with a minimum of words.

During several of these online interviews, Jonathan was either swimming or sunning. On one occasion, Jonathan approached the sliding glass door, tempting my delicate hands with his firm, perfectly crafted body, but walked away, not receiving his anticipated squeeze, yet sporting a 'two a clocker' as was frequently the case.

The online interviews interfered with our pact and the grotto would have to wait.

Several days later, having selected three boys for the empty bedrooms, who I would meet in person at the airport, I rearranged my schedule to dedicate myself to the commitment of homestay.

Following my morning meditation and a teary movie, I called Judy to tell her the news, knowing that she'd immediately inform Moira and Diana, who'd probably wait a day before contacting me, wanting to talk about it directly through follow-up conversations.

"I've made my selection of the boys for the empty bedrooms. Once they get settled in, I'd like you to meet them."

"Are any of them as cute as Jonathan?"

"I'll let you make that determination," I replied, reflecting that 'cute' was a misleading word to describe Jonathan, but it was the word these ladies routinely used. "All the boys are stunning; one is Japanese, another is Chinese, and the third is Russian."

"Tell me about the Russian."

"His name is Aleksei. He's from Saint Petersburg, which is way up in the north, not far from the arctic circle. He speaks fair English and is majoring in Engineering. Aleksei is reserved, and from the camera angle of the online meeting, I imagine he's tall."

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen, but he seems mature. This is his first trip abroad."

"What about the others?"

"Yukito is Japanese, majoring in Business Administration. His English isn't as good as Aleksei's. He strikes me as respectful and compliant. I'm told that among homestay families, Japanese students have the reputation of being the easiest to work with, the most compliant. He's twenty-two, is studying for an MBA, having already attained the equivalent of a bachelor's degree in Japan. Moreover, Yukito's father is a wealthy business owner; the plan is for Yukito to attain his MBA, become proficient in English, then take an administrative position in his father's company."

"Who else?"

"Shoi Ming is from Chengdu, the fourth largest city in China with a population of over twenty million people. He's majoring in Finance and is good-looking like the others. He's chatty and his English is a little better that Yukito's."

Judy paused, then with a giggle asked, "when can I meet them?"

"Their planes arrive in a few days. How about a Thursday dinner in two weeks, once the boys get settled in?"

Judy paused again. "Will Jonathan be swimming? If so, I'll bring swimwear. So will the other ladies, I'm sure. And I'll tell Diana to wear a one-piece. You remember what happened last time."

"Be sure and bring swimwear to mix and mingle with ALL the boys," I emphasized. "Part of the homestay program is to provide the students an American cultural experience. Interacting with you three ladies will be a part of this. Moreover, none have ever lived in a house with a backyard pool before, and I imagine they'll use the pool just like Jonathan does. It will make a nice venue to mix and mingle."

Friday afternoon, Alexei, Yukito, and Shoi Ming arrived on various flights, and immediately following breakfast the next day, a meeting was held in the downstairs living room to review the meal calendar and house rules, and to formally welcome each boy to the home. Jonathan joined us for breakfast, also sitting through the meeting.

This was our first formal meeting and I wanted it to go well; the presentation is everything.

The boys sat awkwardly in the living room, as if strewn about on the sofa and accompanying love seat like so many beautiful scattered flowers. Alexei and Jonathan chatted quietly, about sports; Shoi Ming fidgeted while Yukito scarcely stirred. Drawn from the four corners of the world, I reminded myself that as peculiar as their cultures might seem to me, my ways must seem more peculiar to them, young men from diverse backgrounds - although Jonathan and I had grown accustomed to one another.

The boys were taller than I imagined, from the online interviews, and now haphazardly assembled in my living room, they appeared less confident, less resolute, but more attractive.

Smiling broadly and still speaking slowly, separating my words one by one, I informed the handsome boys, "a homestay host should clearly communicate the program's expectations, as well as anticipate the needs of the students. Good hosts recognize these needs and respond accordingly, but feel free to tell me if you need something."

Yukito remained immobile, Shoi Ming looked out the sliding glass door, and Alexei yawned.

"Before we head outside to the pool, do any of you have questions?"

"Why do you have a pool," asked Shoi Ming, "but not a husband?"

"I'm not sure," I replied, matter-of-factly, reflecting on the many peculiar questions asked by boys during the initial online interviews. "Are there any other questions?"

Yukito raised his hand. "When can we use the pool?"

"The pool is open from 7:00 AM to 10:00 PM."

The meeting then moved outside, where Jonathan was to show the boys how the pool settings work, to activate the jets and permit in-place swimming in the shallow end. "Jonathan swims for an hour, twice a day. You mustn't disturb him, but you can use the deep end of the pool during his training times."

As I said this, Jonathan stripped out of his clothing and jumped into the pool to give a demonstration. Seeing Jonathan's resplendent physique, entirely nude and immediately exhibiting a swaying 'four a clocker' once his shorts were removed, led Shoi Ming and Yukito to laugh uncontrollably. The laughter erupted again as Jonathan climbed out of the pool and made no effort to hide his nudity, notably his prodigious member.

"I mentioned to each of you during your initial interviews that there's a young man who lives on the property and swims nude. Jonathan is on the university swim team and nude swimming is necessary for his training."

Remaining nude for the rest of the group's time at the pool, and fully extended, resolutely still at four o'clock, Jonathan explained that the waterfall that flows over the grotto is activated from a switch inside the grotto, and that when the waterfall is running, no one is to enter the grotto. "Jonathan or I use the grotto as a sacred space for tantric religious practices," I added, "for a holy experience to discover our highest and truest selves. Neither of us should ever be disturbed during these sacred rituals, when the waterfall is running."

At this, Yukito's demeanor turned serious, then Shoi Ming's. The meeting ended, as awkwardly as it began, and I attended to the many chores awaiting me.

Expecting that the students would be suffering jet lag and needing to rest, perhaps also lacking an appetite, I planned simple meals those first few days, incorporating borscht, tonkatsu and Szechuan chicken as secondary main dishes into those initial dinners. Familiarity of local foods can avert homesickness and culture shock, the university's international office informed me.

Classes at the university were to begin Monday morning, and with the new week, the meals would pick up. There was laundry to do and light cleaning; do the serious cleaning when they're away in class, I thought. Shouldn't run the vacuum anyway, if they're trying to sleep.

Interspersing a half hour visit to the grotto with Jonathan, waterfall flowing, between chores and midday meditation time, my day flew by. No time to watch a movie. I spied Shoi Ming alone in the pool, after Jonathan's departure to work, swimming nude - having stripped out of his trunks and laying them on the bricks. The young boy's magnificent frame glistened under the afternoon sun. Minutes later, Shoi Ming swam the length of the pool twice before exploring the grotto.

It's harmless allowing the international students to swim nude, I thought. I never expressly prohibited it in the rules, and besides, Jonathan does it without any problems. I'm too modest to ever disrobe in front of a boy of course, but if this is what the boys want to do, why not?

Likewise, it's endearing when a boy shows off for me.

I could always add more students, transitioning to double occupancy for each of the rooms, once I get the homestay routine established. I run the risk that the students might leave, having to share a room, but a well-run program - one that anticipates and responds to the students' needs, isn't likely to suffer that fate. Coordinating it through the university, I could even raise the boys' monthly fees.