Date: Thu, 24 May 2018 08:09:10 +0200
From: Ryan White <liciousryan@gmail.com>
Subject: Lust For Boy Cock

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LUST FOR BOY COCK

I thought I would just be babysitting little Joshua Smith that night --
eating some pizza with him, watching a movie, making sure he got safely to
bed.

Oh, he got to bed all right. He got to bed with me.

It happened a week ago, and I can't shake the image of his boyish face
grinning from ear to ear as I straddled his slender body, his kiddie boyish
cock pushing up surprisingly far inside me as we fucked. Neither can I
forget his unbroken voice calling out in joy again and again as he came for
the first time. No sperm. None was needed. His boy wiener going sporadic in
my pussy was reward enough.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Let me explain. I'd been home for
two weeks after my second year away at university, working part-time in a
dull job involving hamburgers, when the phone rang on a Friday morning and
my mother said it was for me. I figured it must be my boyfriend Tim, who
was spending most of the summer working on his family's farm.

"Is that Barbie?" said a vaguely familiar voice. "It's Kaylin Boyd. You
know, Joshua and Cindy's mother."

"Oh, right," I said slowly. I hadn't done any babysitting since I was
fourteen. The Boyd family lived on the far side of town, and I hadn't seen
any of them in the last five years.

"I know this seems like a strange thing to ask," the voice carried on, "but
we're really hoping that you'll be able to come and babysit Joshua
overnight. We're moving to Cape Town on Monday, and my husband and I have
to drive out of town this afternoon -- he's getting a volunteer award in
Potch before we leave the province."

"You can't take Joshua with you?" I asked.

She sounded a little embarrassed. "Well, no, they're putting us up in a
fancy hotel, and my husband ..."

Her voice trailed off. I thought I got the picture.

"Maybe he could stay with a friend," I said.

She lowered her voice. I wondered suddenly if Joshua was listening to his
mother talk.

"That's what his younger sister will be doing. But Joshua doesn't, um,
really have any friends. Any good friends, I mean. To tell you the truth,
he's had a pretty awful time at school. That's part of the reason we're
moving."

I tried to remember Joshua. The last time I saw him, he was a smart kid
with cute blond hair, but even at five year of tender age he wore dorky
glasses and read a lot of kiddie books. Playing with words and puzzles
rather than toy cars, Lego and Power Ranger figureens. He struck me as the
sort of boy who always gets on better with adults than with other kids.

"We'd pay you, of course," Mrs. Boyd added. "We'd pay you well. Because
this means a lot to Joshua."

Why? He hadn't seen me in five years. I was puzzled, but after the mention
of good money I was also willing. I thought of a fee that I thought I
pushed my luck with, and to my astonishment Mrs. Boyd said she'd pay me
more than that. The gratitude in her voice was palpable. For me, there was
a lot I could do with that amount, and if I had to baby sit a 10 year kid
for one night...what could go wrong?

She named an address. "Can you be round here by four?" she asked, and I
agreed.

A few hours later I changed into a white tank top, jeans and a light
sweater, and added a few touches of makeup. For some reason I didn't put on
a bra. When I got to the house, Mr. Boyd -- a bald, worried-looking man
with a permanent slouch -- was already chafing to leave.

"It's a three-hour drive," he told his wife, then turned and repeated it to
me. Cindy had already gone over to her best friend's house. Joshua was
keeping to himself upstairs. Mrs. Boyd shepherded me into the family room
away from her husband, and talked to me in a soft, urgent voice.

"My husband had a job offer in Cape Town," she said, "and we jumped at it
for Joshua's sake. It's been terrible the past couple of years, but the
school refuses to do anything about it. They even have the gall to say that
if Joshua's smart enough to have skipped a couple of grades, he should be
smart enough to deal with bullies."

She sighed and shook her head. "And there's the question of gym class. He's
not very -- grown, let's say. He came home one afternoon last month with
bruises all over his body."

"That's terrible," I said. I hadn't ever been attacked when I was in high
school, but I knew kids of both sexes who suffered badly. It sounded like
Joshua had endured more than most.

"But I'm still surprised he wants me to babysit. I mean, most boys--"

"I know, I know," his mother interrupted. "Just a second!" she shouted to
her husband. She lowered her voice again. "He always remembered how kind
you were to him. And I think he looks back on early childhood as the best
time he's ever had. Poor boy."

A minute later I watched their car speed away from the driveway, and turned
around to see Joshua watching me from the stairs. He still had cute blond
hair, parted down the middle, and worn a bit longer than most boys do;
unfortunately he also wore large glasses with thick lenses. They did not
quite disguise a black eye. He was wearing a long-sleeved green shirt and
grey dress pants that seemed more appropriate to church than home. His
complexion showed no trace of acne, and his lips were bright red.

"Hey, Joshua," I said with a smile. "Remember me?"

"Barbie," he said softly in a high-pitched voice. "Wow!"

"Wow what?"

He blushed and shook his head, and I suddenly wondered if he'd have been
dreaming about me for years. He was 10...was that even possible? I was no
taller than when he last saw me, but my black hair was longer and my
breasts had filled out a bit. I couldn't help noticing a small bulge in the
front of his pants. Whoever said that children aren't sexual beings?

I hauled my bag up to the guest bedroom. The house was warm, so I left my
sweater on the bed. Joshua's room was just across the hall. Glancing in, I
expected to see posters of rappers and rock stars on his wall, plus maybe a
pin-up or two. But instead there were National Geographic maps, photographs
of world leaders, and a single Harry Potter poster. "This boy really is a
nerd," I thought.

At that moment I would have laughed out loud if anyone had suggested I was
about to pluck his cherry. I mean, he's a scrawny kid with just the barest
trace of fuzz on his arms and legs. A child. I'm 19 years old, and when I'm
at university I have regular sex with an agriculture student who shaves
twice a day and lifts weights in his spare time. Admittedly Tim is not the
brightest spark on campus, but I love his generosity, his muscles and his
thick, seven-inch cock.

Joshua didn't say too much at first. He practised the piano for a while,
glancing my way from time to time. Then we played a couple of games of
chess, and he beat me hollow. I'm an English major; I'm not into
math. Mrs. Boyd had left some money for me to order a pizza, and finally,
after he'd eaten a slice, he began to open up. The mozzarella made him
think of string theory, though I had to admit after a couple of minutes I
didn't know what he was talking about. But as though some kind of dam had
been broken, he switched from abstract ideas to his terrified life at
school.

"They wait for me in the locker room," he said. "Four or five of the
guys. They laugh at me. They flick my ears and poke me in the back and
punch me in the face. And that's not all."

"It's enough," I said. "It's way too much."

"No, but they also take rulers and measure people's, you know..."

"Private parts?" I said.

"Yeah. And then they slap me with the rulers. Even, you know, down
there. And then next class, they tell the girls about the measurements."
His ears had gone red, I noticed. Behind his glasses his eyes looked
moist. He fiddled with the frame where it touched the top of his nose.

"You're two years younger than the rest of them?"

"Yeah, I skipped a couple of grades. I didn't ask to. I just did what they
said I should."

"So it's not surprising," I said.

"You'll catch up. In Cape Town you'll make a fresh start."

He didn't say anything, as though he'd heard all this a thousand times
before. On impulse, I decided to say something he probably hadn't heard.

"I bet by the time you're fourteen, and in Highschool, you'll have a
gorgeous cock."

His eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, as though he couldn't
believe what he'd heard. I carried on regardless.

"When I was twelve my breasts had hardly grown at all. Some of the girls
must have laughed at me. But a year later -- " I wasn't sure how to end the
sentence. My breasts aren't that big, but Tim once told me he could fondle
them all day. "A year later they'd grown OK," I said lamely. I felt my
nipples poking hard against the thin fabric of my tank top.

"I bet," Joshua said. There was an awkward silence. "Could we watch a movie
now?"

"Sure," I said. It was probably a good idea to talk about something
different.

"Like a real date!" he said. I grinned and nodded. He looked so innocent, I
didn't tell him that on a real date, my hand might be deep inside a guy's
pants.

He decided to watch 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire', even though he'd
seen it three times already. I have to admit my attention wandered a
bit. In one of the less exciting scenes I went back to the kitchen and
microwaved some popcorn. I put it in a large blue bowl and we ate it
sitting side by side on the sofa. He was so engrossed in the movie that
once, when he reached for the popcorn, he put his hand on my thigh
instead. I let it stay there until he noticed. Then he withdrew it as
though it

had been touching flames.

"They've grown up a lot since this movie," I said when the final credits
were rolling. "The actors, I mean. The girl who plays Hermione is
beautiful."

"Yeah," Joshua said, "but she's not really hot.'' He had a big smile on his
face.

"Not like me?" I teased.

The smile disappeared. "Not like you," he said, touching his glasses. "Not
like you."

Maybe I should have seized that moment. It's a wonderful feeling to be
adored, to be truly loved, and I knew then that Joshua loved me. Maybe I
should have taken his hands right then and given him the first passionate
kiss of his life.

But I chickened out. "He's only ten," I said to myself, "and he looks even
younger. Don't be a fool."

So Joshua went up to his room alone, and read for a while, and I heard him
take a shower. I stayed downstairs, cleared up the supper dishes and played
with myself a little. I tried to think about Tim while I did so, but my
thoughts kept straying.

It was time to say goodnight. I went up to Joshua's room and knocked on the
door. "May I

come in?" I said.

"Of course!" He sounded so eager. But I nearly laughed at the sight of him
sitting up in bed, wearing check pyjamas of a style only suitable for
grandfathers. Where did his parents get their bad taste in clothes? Luckily
I restrained myself -- he'd endured too much scornful laughter over the
past few years. I went over and sat on the edge of his bed. My hair fell
across my bare shoulders and down to my breasts.

"Hey," I said. "I bet this is the first time a girl has ever sat on your
bed."

"No," he said, "My sister has." He was such a logical boy. And at the same
time, so desperately needy.

"Oh right," I said. Then I went quiet. We were both a little embarrassed. I
think he realized we were trembling on the edge of something forbidden,
something taboo. Something he wanted more than anything else in the world,
but which also frightened him.

"Listen," I finally said, "is there anything you'd like to ask me? About, I
dunno, anything at all."

He nodded. I'd given him an opening, a great big opening.

But his question just about floored me: "Do you think I'll ever be normal?"

"Normal?" I said. "What's so great about normal? You're unusually smart,
you're unusually cute-looking, you wear unusual pyjamas -- why would you
want to be normal?"

"So I don't get laughed at anymore. The guys in school say I'm a freak. I
want to be normal!"

"Of course you'll be normal," I said. And smiled at him. And reached out
and stroked his cheek. It felt as smooth as a girl's. He gave a little
shudder of surprise. "You're normal already," I added. "You have normal
desires, right?"

He plucked up his courage and said, "Do you fuck your boyfriend?"

Strange to hear that four-letter word in his soprano voice. But it was an
honest question, and it deserved an honest answer.

"Yes, I do," I said. "It's a wonderful feeling."

"What's it like?"

"I don't know what it's like for a guy," I said. "For me, when Tim is
inside me, it's like I'm being torn apart and put together all at the same
time. It's like I'm swimming in fire. Hard to explain, I guess."

"He's the luckiest guy in the world," Joshua said.

"He makes me feel good," I replied. "So I guess I'm lucky too."

I noticed he was blushing. And then, as though it were a formal speech he'd
rehearsed a thousand times, he looked away and said: "Barbie, I'll be
moving to Cape Town next week. This is my only chance to find out what a
kiss is like. Would you -- would you show me?"

I didn't answer in words. Instead I moved a bit closer to the top of the
bed, leaned forward and put my parted lips on his. After a few moments I
moved my head backward just long enough to say, "Open your mouth."

Which he did. And a bit later, I stretched my tongue out to find his. It
took him a little while to learn a few of the simple things that tongues
can do together. Everything was so new and surprising to him, I suddenly
realized Joshua had had absolutely no idea what a kiss would feel like. He
was not just a virgin; he was almost a pre-virgin. The moisture in my pussy
was beginning to soak my panties.

Our mouths drew apart.

"Take your glasses off," I said quietly.

"But then I won't be able to see you," he said in a shaky voice.

Silly boy. I gently removed his glasses and put them on his bedside
table. Without them, as I'd suspected, he looked absolutely gorgeous, even
with a black eye. He was a pre-man, and I couldn't believe how wet he was
making me.

I was sitting right beside him now, and our mouths found each other
again. His tongue began to play with mine. But then, to my amazement, I
felt one of his hands push against my chest, pressing, groping, grabbing.

I pulled back sharply. "Joshua," I said, standing up, "you've got no right
to grab like that. You didn't ask if it was OK, you just groped. You can't
do that with a girl."

He was saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" but I left his bedroom anyway. Part of
me was slightly relieved -- I didn't know how far I might have gone. Or
rather, I did know.

I watched a little TV, then phoned Tim. But he didn't sound especially keen
to talk. I realized I was interrupting a playoff hockey game. "Just wanted
to let you know I miss you," I said.

"Yeah, sure, I miss you too," he said. I could tell his mind was on the
game. The crowd cheered in the distance. Fuck men, I thought. Why is a
stupid game more important than a lover?

A minute later I was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of juice. I turned
the lights off, then went upstairs to the guest bedroom. I didn't intend to
go back into Joshua's room. But as I stood there in the hall, I heard a low
sound coming from behind the door I had closed. It was the sound of
helpless crying.

My heart melted. This time I didn't bother to knock, I just walked straight
in. His bedside light was still on but his head was buried under the
bedclothes.

"Joshua," I said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please forgive me. You just
took me by surprise, that's all."

His body shook, as though racked by sobs. "I ruined everything," he said,
not turning around to face me. "This was the best night of my whole life,
and I ruined it."

"No you didn't," I said. "No way. Look at me."

His blond hair shook on the pillow. He still wouldn't turn around. The
stubbornness of this boy, and the pain! I threw my tank-top onto the floor
and climbed onto his bed. When he felt the weight, he half-turned. At which
point I moved my breasts gently onto his face. Only then did I realize he'd
put his glasses back on. I heard a muffled, incredulous gasp.

"Joshua," I said. "You only had to ask." Then before he could reply, I
pulled my body up, pushed my face down and kissed him. Hard. Hard and
long. The only reason I stopped was to lick the tears from off his
cheeks. They were as salty as my boyfriend's semen, and more delicate.

I wanted to show the boy everything. I didn't want to keep any secrets
back. He loved me. Did I dare to admit I loved him back? When we stopped
kissing I wriggled out of my jeans. Now all I was wearing was a pair of
white panties with a small red rose on the side. A pair of panties stained
by my desire. I watched him drink me in with his eyes as though I were the
most delicious liquid in the world. I didn't ask if he liked what he saw.

I didn't need to.

There he lay, still wearing those ridiculous pyjamas. I started to unbutton
them. The skin on his chest was silky and beautiful, so beautiful. He
squirmed out of his pyjama top. But when I reached for the pants, his hand
stopped me.

"No," he said. "No."

"Why?" I said. "It's OK to be naked. Bodies are fantastic.

Your body is fantastic."

He shook his head, and I remembered his shame in the locker room. "Joshua,"
I said.

"Trust me. Please."

"You won't laugh?" he said. I shook my head. And then, carefully,
deliberately, almost proudly, he pulled down his own pyjama pants and
exposed his tender, hard, strangely elegant cock. It wasn't as small as I'd
feared -- perhaps three-and-a-half inches long. But who was measuring? Not
me. I was feasting. Freed from constriction, his cock bounced up against
his lower belly. Now he was wearing nothing except his glasses.

"You're gorgeous," I told him. "Forget about being fourteen one day. You're
gorgeous now."

There was a soft, sparse fluff of downy hair around the base of his
cock. It reminded me that if I was seeing him naked, he deserved to see me
the same way.

"You can take my panties off," I said. "If you want to."

He did. I heard a soft groan and thought of asking him why, but this wasn't
the time for words. Not with his cock dancing in the air. For the second
time in an hour, I reached out and removed his glasses. I stroked his
belly, I ran my hands down his hairless thighs, and I felt him do the same
for me. I could have lingered there, stroking, squeezing, touching, but I
knew his need was intense. My God, had he ever experienced an orgasm?

"Joshua," I said, "make any noise you like, do anything you like, don't
worry about anything, it's all good!" He started to reply but then I took
his cock in his mouth. All of it. The sweetest meat I ever tasted in my
life.

Within a few seconds he came, of course. I knew he would. His pale thighs
bucked, his cock poured out its pleasure, and I heard a strange wild cry
that seemed to come from far across the room. Was it him? Was it me? Who
cares?

A little voice at the back of my head reminded me that I just gave a
fucking blowjob to a ten year old boy. His kiddie boyish dick... it tasted
delicious...for a fleeting second, thought "What in the world am I doing?"

Then he was sitting up and embracing me, his cheeks still moist, his cock
still erect, his hands still not knowing quite where to go. I moved them to
my breasts, moved his mouth to one of my nipples, moved my hands to his
blond head. He suckled me like a young tiger. Somehow, I can't remember
exactly how, I was sitting on top of him. He looked up at me in awe,
there's no other word. I was a goddess. I had never felt more powerful in
my life.

Except that I needed him inside me. Never, never have I needed a cock so
badly as that night. So he had even more power than me. And he knew it. He
raised himself from the bed and whispered in my ear, "You're the sexiest
babysitter in the world."

I nibbled on his earlobe before I whispered back, "And you're the sexiest
boy." He giggled and whispered, "Would you like me to fuck you?"

I whispered to him, "Yes, please."

"Louder," he said in his normal boyish voice. "Yes, please," I
said. "Louder!" I was growing desperate -- if he didn't fuck me soon, I'd
have to take my pussy into my own hands. So I shouted,

"Joshua, for God's sake fuck me NOW!"

"OK," he said. And then I guided him inside my hungry lower lips, and he
knew where to go, he knew what to do. I don't know how he knew, but he
did. I noticed the smile that stretched across his face. But within a
minute I was lost to him, I was lost to the world, I was lost to everything
except the insane glory of my coming. I know I was shouting again. But so
was he.

The little ten year old boy that his classmates weren't deemed good enough
for them, that bullied him beyond belief, was fucking his first pussy. His
little boy dickie was a virtual blur as he somehow used his natural
instincts and gave me pleasure with literally all he had. I didn't care
that his hard cock was the size of my boyfriend's finger. I felt the young
amateur boy cock swell and fuck its way into me and I couldn't get enough.

I heard his high voice, his boy chest heaver, his eyes rolled back into his
head. He collapsed on top of me, his boy dick having gone as far as it
could. I seemed to feel it inside me as his cock spasmed again. Lord knows
how much cum there would have been if he was old enough to sperm. The world
was a spinning bedroom with Harry Potter peering down at us. My orgasm went
on and on. At some point we both began to laugh.

Whatever else life may be for, I thought, it's for this. This laughter.

I spent most of the night in his bed. We fucked twice after that.

A week later he and his family was gone. I smiled.



THANKS FOE READING!!

Comments?? Feel free to mail me liciousryan@gmail.com