BOY KLAUS

 

Santa is supposed to have little helpers, so I have heard. This tiny whimsy is about one of them.

 

"Yeah, think I missed me sleigh," Klaus grinned at the driver of an Audi SUV who'd stopped to ask him if he needed a lift.

SUV's were Klaus's favourite cars to be given lifts in, because they were higher than ordinary saloon cars it was much more difficult for anyone outside to see much more than the heads of the occupants, and they were usually automatics as well, which meant the driver didn't have to keep changing gear.

The driver smiled at Klaus's joke, always a good sign. The humour came from the way Klaus was dressed – a bright, red track suit and a red beanie on his head with nice, furry, white trim round it – the perfect outfit for Christmas Eve. No false, white beard though, Klaus did not want to leave anyone in any doubt that he was a handsome, almost pretty, young teenage boy.

"Where you going?" the driver asked and Klaus produced an innocent smile to accompany his ambiguous reply of, "As far as you want."

Puzzlement showed for a moment on the driver's face at Klaus's answer, but puzzlement was soon replaced by something else, or several somethings else. Uncertainty, disbelief and a glimmer of hope all flashed over the driver's face, just as Klaus expected them to.

Klaus didn't wait for the man to say anything more, he just opened the SUV's passenger door and climbed in, noting as he did so the pile of supermarket plastic bags on the back seat.

"She send you out to do the shopping?" Klaus asked with a small grin. There was far too much stuff on the back seat for it to be one man's shopping, so the guy who'd picked him up had to be a married man. Klaus liked married men best; married men didn't get many chances to pick up boys, so they were usually most appreciative when such chances came along.

"Yeah," the driver grunted, never for a second realising that the tone of his grunt told Klaus that this was a man not totally delighted with his life.

"Got any kids?" It sounded like an ordinary question, something that was asked in conversational innocence.

"One," the driver said, "Boy about the same age as you, I suppose."

Klaus shifted in his seat, stretching out his long, slender legs and leaning right back in the seat. An innocent, and typically teenage boy thing to do, no hint of an awareness that in doing so he had made it far too easy for any man who was `that way' inclined to reach a hand across and go where men are not supposed to go with teenage boys.

"Cool," Klaus smiled, his balls moving around of their own accord, "Bet you'd like to give him something special for Christmas."

Klaus's words were timed to perfection, spoken at the exact same moment that the driver's eyes had shifted from the road ahead to the very centre of Klaus's stretched out, slender teenage body.

It could have been completely accidental, that timing, but, in the driver's mind it screamed that the boy in the red tracksuit sitting beside him had divined the wicked thought that had entered his normally determinedly conventionally thinking head.

"Where did you say you wanted to go?" the man asked, trying to wrench his thoughts from the boy's groin.

"Told you," Klaus grinned, "Far as you want."

Men only stopped to offer teenage boys a lift if they had some desire to investigate the contents of that boy's underwear. Usually, as Klaus well knew, that desire was a secret one, almost never acted on, just dreamed of and later viewed as yet another wasted opportunity, another regret to be added to the list of regrets that grew longer with every passing year, and that was what made the first few minutes of a lift so much fun for Klaus. Klaus never let a man who offered him a lift keep that desire a secret, Klaus enjoyed bringing that desire right out into the open, teasing and tempting, and there was no-one better to tease and tempt than a married man with a teenage son.

"What would you really like to give your boy for Christmas?" Klaus asked, "Or perhaps I should ask what you'd like him to let you have for Christmas?"

It was amusing to watch the blush spread into the man's face, a blush that said quite clearly that the man knew exactly what Klaus was talking about. He could tell, probably word for word, the thoughts in the man's mind, the almost despairing protest of `I've never thought of him in that way!' and the follow-up of, `I haven't, I really haven't. He's my son!'

"I don't think I know what you're talking about," the man blustered, admitting that he knew exactly what Klaus was talking about.

"Course you do," Klaus smiled, "That's why you offered me a lift."

That wasn't quite true; he hadn't stopped for this boy because he wanted to get inside his son's underwear, he'd never had any serious thoughts about doing anything like that, well, not until this kid had hinted that he did, and now why was he wondering what it was that his son had hidden away in there, and what uses he made of it?

He'd wondered about that before, hadn't he? Not a lot and not often, but he had wondered, but that was only natural, wasn't it? Natural for a father to wonder if his teenage son was … well, perhaps it was best not to wonder exactly what.

"Perhaps you ought to get out," the man said, though he made no attempt to slow down or stop.

"You don't mean that," Klaus shrugged, "You're just scared, that's all."

"What have I got to be scared about?" More bluster, but still no slowing down of the car.

"Scared of getting the Christmas present you want," Klaus grinned, "But there's no need to be scared. It's Christmas and people give presents at Christmas."

"Oh, and what is the present I so much want for Christmas?" the man asked sarcastically as he negotiated through the holiday traffic of last minute shoppers.

"You don't need me to tell you," Klaus parted his legs just a little, just enough for the driver to notice the movement and take a quick glance across to where he was beginning to find he had to stop a hand from going. "Perhaps your boy doesn't know what you want for Christmas, but I do."

"Oh, you do, do you?" More sarcasm.

"Course I do, and I don't mind letting you have a present if you want."

Now it was getting difficult to concentrate on driving, now it required real force of will to keep both hands on the steering wheel. Of course he'd stopped for the boy because he was a teenage boy; of course he'd done that because he had a yearning to get inside a teenage boy's underwear. He shouldn't have that yearning, he was a married man with a son of his own, a boy of the same sort of age as the one in the red track suit sitting beside him, and how would he feel if some man was getting his hand down in there, down inside his son's pants, feeling and groping his teenage cock?

He should be horrified and disgusted by that thought, so why wasn't he? Why, instead of being horrified and disgusted, was he beginning to sweat and get hard? Did he really want to get his hand inside a teenage boy's pants, feel his cock, cup and fondle his young balls?

"Fuck it!" he muttered and moved his hand off the steering wheel.

Klaus smiled in satisfaction as that hand came to rest on his thigh. Men were all the same, they all wanted the same thing, it was only ever a matter of helping them to understand that and convince them they didn't need to worry about anything. That was another reason he preferred a man to be married, married men had more to worry about and so they were always more grateful when they got a present.

"It's Christmas," Klaus said, "You don't need to worry about unwrapping your present, I'm not going to tell on you."

It was fun watching the turmoil in the man's mind, seeing how much he wanted to get at the present Klaus was offering him and how frightened he was of accepting it, frightened of the consequences, of his wife finding out he had a secret desire for teenage boys, frightened of being caught fondling a teenage boy in his car, perhaps even frightened of beginning to think of his own teenage son as a teenage boy.

The next few moments were always the best, though. The man would debate with himself, decide that he would, even if it was only ever just this once, brace himself, steel his nerves and plunge his hand down inside, determined at the last to rediscover the joys of his youth and explore the contents of a teenage boy's underwear. Then the momentary shock at finding there was no underwear, that the boy he was groping had come out ready and prepared to be groped, followed by the secondary, but much larger and so unbelievably sexy shock of finding that this boy, a boy who was the same age as his own son, not only had no underwear but had no pubic hair either!

"Oh, fuck!" the driver exhaled when he discovered both those things and found that they combined together to glue his hand to the hard, hot boy length he found.

"Like your present, then?" Klaus grinned, "I hoped you would."         

 

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