Date: Tue, 11 Oct 2022 18:45:36 +0200 From: mushu410@mail.com Subject: Dougie's Visit Chapter 1 (Revised) Dougie's Visit Chapter 1 Whatever It Takes The phone rang about 9:00 o'clock Wednesday night. It was Maureen, my next door neighbor when I lived in upstate New York. We had been very close neighbors -- me as a single guy and her, her husband, and their son who was 6 when I got a professorship at Texas A & M 4 years ago. A year after I moved, her husband -- a really nice guy-dropped dead from an aneurism at the age of 31. The gist of the conversation was that she needed to have surgery. It wasn't life-threatening or anything, but her recuperation would be at least 2 months. Her parents and in-laws were all still young and had jobs. But as a college teacher, I was off for the summer. She wanted to know if I would keep Dougie. On the one hand, I was glad to help but I was hesitant. We had kept in touch somewhat, but you know how it is when you move. You get involved in your life where you are. And I wasn't from New York either -- no ties there. So I had only been back once since I moved-for her husband's funeral. What was Dougie like now? What would I do with a 10-year-old kid all summer? "Of course, he can stay here," I heard myself saying. "Brick," you're a prince," she said. "Brick" was my nickname -- long story. A few days later, she called me with his flight plan. "Let me put Dougie on," she said. Dougie didn't sound all that happy to talk to me. Our conversation was short and Maureen came back on the phone and assured me that it was nothing personal towards me or even that he was coming to stay. He was just worried about the surgery. He was only 10 and he had already lost one parent. I understood. So, a few days later I was waiting at the airport. I thought we could have fun this summer. After all, I was an educator. I started out teaching elementary school -- I loved children. And I was all alone. My parents stayed married - -were still married after 40-some years. But they had a terrible marriage. My home life was a mess. I was depressed as a child. I think that's why I became a teacher, so I could be in a job where I could be nice to kids. Anyway, I guess I didn't have a good example to learn from, because all of my relationships with women had been disasters. I had had my heart broken so many times. At age 40, I had not had a date with a woman for several years. Didn't want one. I had even thought about guys, if not for a relationship, maybe just for sexual release. But I was afraid to try anything. All I knew for sure was that I was not going to get my heart broken again. I guess mainly, my heart was just shut down. His plane was basically on time and 20 minutes after landing, I took charge of him from the flight attendant. I had forgotten what a cute boy he was. His hair was still light blond. He had pretty long bangs and longish hair all over his head. His skin was really fair, his eyes a pale blue with long eyelashes. He was very slender -- also pretty short for his age. In fact, he didn't look that much different than I remembered from 3 years ago. He looked tired and dazed. He didn't say anything when we first met. As we walked down the concourse, he kept looking up at me. As we turned into the main aisle among all the people, his hand slipped into mine. I prattled on a bit about this and that, then gave up and we walked in silence to the car. Then, before he put his seatbelt on, he leaned over fast and grabbed me in a hug. He had my right armed pinned down but I put my left arm around him and pulled him tight. I stroked his silky hair, and told him that it was going to be okay. Something came over me sitting there holding him like that -- him so needy, so dependent, so delicate, in a way. I determined that I would do anything to help him -- love him, die for him, kill for him, do whatever it took to make him happy. My heart was breaking for this scared, fragile little boy. When we got home, I showed him where he would sleep. There wasn't much to do, as the airline had lost all his luggage. According to his mom, he had 3 suitcases of all kinds of things-books, toys, video games, even a stuffed bear. She said he hadn't slept with it since he was 8, but he wanted to bring it. He found some kids books in my study and brought me one. It was a really little kid's book though-too young for him. "Are you going to read this?" I asked. No answer. "Do you want me to read it to you?" and with that he plopped onto my lap. It all seemed a little odd to me for someone as old as 10 but I went along. So, I read him the book, which didn't take long. By the time I was done I realized his eyes were not aimed at the book. Rather, he was nuzzling into my chest. I think he was falling asleep. "You want to go to bed?" I asked. "Hungry," was all he said. I had bought all kinds of things, not knowing what he liked but I had an idea he was in no way able to make a decision. So I just microwaved some frozen pizza for us. After dinner, he looked up and said, "It's time for my bath." I think that was the first complete sentence I had heard out of him. But bath? I'm sure his mom had told me that he took showers-even adjusted the water on his own. Oh well. I started for the hallway but turned around when he didn't follow me. "Are you coming?" I asked. He just sat there, but put his arms up in the air. ("Okay," I reminded myself of my earlier words, "whatever it takes.") I picked him up to carry him to the bathroom. He wrapped his arms and legs tightly around me. I sat him down on the toilet and had to pry him off of me. I started the water and he just sat there. "Shirt off," I said. He just put his arms straight up. So...I grabbed the bottom of his polo shirt and pulled it up and inside-out over his head. I pulled off his shoes, then his socks. Gosh, he had such little feet. Kind of cute. So was his innie belly button for that matter. Huh? I never noticed anyone's belly button before. Next, I got him under his armpits and stood him up, undid his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. I lifted up each ankle and pulled his pants off his feet. As I did, he put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to me. I could feel the tip of his little penis brushing against the top of my head as I looked down at his feet. Oh well, it was just skin, wasn't it? Besides, he was just a little boy. By this point, I knew it was pointless to ask him to walk over to the tub, so I picked him up and gently placed him in the water. I took my shirt off so it wouldn't get all wet, and got the shower nozzle hose and started on his hair. I don't think I had ever washed another person's hair before. There was something nice about it-something soothing-for him too as far as I could tell. After his head was full of shampoo, I soaped up my hands, then gently washed his face and ears before rinsing him off with the spray. After that I turned off the water, and started on the rest of him. I just used my hands on him instead of a washcloth. That's how I always washed myself. Wow, his skin felt so soft and nice. I was kind of enjoying the intimacy of it. I had actually closed my eyes and was rubbing his back and chest over and over-way beyond the point of getting him clean. He wasn't complaining. I came out of it when I realized that my cock was almost fully hard, pointing down and straining at my pants. Where did that come from? Oh well. I carried on with the washing, lifting each leg in turn out of the water and washing them from mid-thigh down to his feet. I was still thoroughly enjoying the bodily contact, making sure to take my time and get in between each of his toes. My dick was still expressing it's enjoyment as well, but I didn't dwell on that. After finishing the last toe and putting his foot back in the water, I figured I was done then and would just let him soak a while. But he stood up and turned to face me. I assumed he was going to get out, but then he put his hands on the back of his hips and jutted his cock out a bit. He looked down at it, then back up at me. He had kind of a far-away look in his eye. What could I do? What should I do? But the thing is, I wanted to. I wanted to handle that little cock. What was wrong with me? I was just starved for any kind of intimacy, I told myself. I started to pick up the soap but then stopped to adjust my straining cock. He didn't seem to notice. I took my time getting a good ton of lather worked up in my hands. And while I did, I examined his little member. I have to say, that like the rest of him it was cute...nice...dare I say, "sweet?" I had certainly never thought of a penis as "cute" before. He was totally hairless, of course-still a long way from puberty. There was a kind of innocence about him, not just that he was smooth and slender and looked, well, hot (yes I said it-I just called a 10-year-old hot). But that he was just so willing to stand there naked in his "hot-ness;" and let me ogle him-touch him, caress him. I could probably do whatever I wanted to him. Right now, I was going to touch his little cock, his penis, his dick, his peepee. The first time ever in my life for me to touch someone else's cock. Again, I say, it was so cute. So small and delicate just like the rest of him. It fit him perfectly. If I were going to paint or sculpt him nude (and a boy this beautiful should be painted and sculpted), I wouldn't change a thing. He was uncircumsized. And his little member was milk bottle shaped. About an inch and a half of actual dick ending in an extra quarter inch or so of foreskin. His testicles still very small-marble size if that, but hanging low after all the time sitting in the warm water. I put down the soap and went in. First, I washed all around it-starting with the top of his thighs then going up and around his groin to the bottom of his stomach. Then I made my way into the center-the target. I gently soaped him up, getting soap on his sweet little cocklett, then gently massaging his little hanging balls with my sudsy hand. I thought I heard him give a little sigh. I went back to his little cock, soaping him back and forth in a jacking motion. Did I detect a little throb? Was he starting to chub up? Did little boys even get hard-ons? I know my 6 inch dick was now raging in my pants. Then I went for the real prize. I manipulated his hardening penis to get the foreskin back. It took a little effort as it was so small and slippery. But then, there it was. The little head of his sweet little white cock. It was almost the same color as his blinding white skin. Maybe just a slight hint of pink to it. It was about the size of a pea. I pushed the skin down as far as it would go, stretching his little, but now definitely hardening cock. Then I washed it some more, soaping it up and down, again in a jacking motion. This time, I definitely heard a sigh from him, and he put his hands on my bare shoulders to steady himself. As I continued to wash him, his cock grew to its full 2 inches, now sticking straight up. It was the width of my little finger. His cute little cockhead was now the size of a blueberry. I just stopped and gazed a little. I realized I was panting. And then... And then he turned around and offered me his butt. Wow! If I thought the front of him was perfection! Dougie was a true blond, that is, he had that really pale, really white, almost albino-like fair skin that people with really blond hair often have. Sure his face and his arms were a little bit tan, and his torso, a tiny bit tan from playing outside as the weather warmed. But his cock, his crotch, and his butt-his sweet little ass had never seen the sun. It was...amazing. Back in my days of ogling girls I was always a butt man. Now, I was looking at my first naked butt in years. And Dougie's butt was awesome! It really jutted out-his cheeks like two small cantaloupes. It was the most beautiful, pure looking, creamy white. I couldn't see into his crack but maybe when I washed it... But why did I even want to see into his crack? That deep part of the ass had never interested me before. But there was something about little Dougie...I wanted to see everything-to touch him everywhere if I could. Once again I picked up the soap and worked up a bunch of lather. I shuddered as my hands met with those precious, luscious, delicious mounds of his sweet, white buttflesh. Oh shit. Oh fuck! I had to move up and lean my thighs on the wall of the tub to try and brace myself as I was feeling a little bit weak. This was so awesome! His sweet little cheeks felt so awesome in my hands! I washed him and washed him, reveling in the feel of my slippery hands roving over his luxurious skin. I petted his sweet cheeks with my soapy hands until all the soap had dried up. But I wasn't finished. I soaped my hands up again and when I looked up, I gasped. He was leaning against the wall of the tub now, bent over, his butt sticking out, his cheeks parted. I could just about see his little hole. Did he...did he want me to wash his butthole now? I've washed every other part of him, lavishing attention on his little peepee already, pulling back his foreskin even. So...yes, I think he did! Did I want to? Oh fuck! YES I DID!! I wanted to see, to touch, to caress, to savor his most secret, private, intimate place, the center of his cute little hot bod!! I had to see it, not just wash it. With now shaking fingers, I watched as from a distance as my hands went in. With my left hand, I made an upside down "u" with my thumb and forefinger and used that to pry his cheeks apart. Then instead of soap, I decided to use shampoo, so I grabbed the bottle and just squirted some on the ledge of the tub to dip my finger into. Then, for a moment, I just stared. Did I tell you already how magnificent his butt was? How beautiful the color of his skin? I did. His pucker was just as beautiful somehow. So tight, so white, so...forbidden. I went in. First I rubbed all around and over it, including his perineum, which I noticed felt rather firm, which meant his dick was still hard. Then I made gradually smaller circles with my finger until I was right at the target. "Ahhh," the rubbing of my finger over his sweet little hole. Was that me who said, "Ahhh," or him? I think it was both of us. Yup. He was definitely getting off on it. "Mmmm," he cooed, even jutting his butt out a little bit further at me. I don't know who long I rubbed my soapy fingertip over his tight little winker. I lost track of time. I kind of went somewhere else in my head for a moment and then sort of "woke up" to realize that my finger and his butthole were just about dry of shampoo. The puddle of shampoo I had squeezed out onto the tub was all gone. "Okay, I think you're clean everywhere now," I said with a shaky voice. I got him seated in the tub, then reached in and pulled the skin back on his still hard penis and shook it around under the water a bit to rinse the dried soap off from under his foreskin. Then I told him to soak a while and I'd be back in a few minutes. He said nothing. I walked out into the living room, my cock still hard. But I had to get a handle on this. This kid was going to be with me for at least 2 months. Where was this going? Was this normal? As I really thought about it, I was truly worried for him, I mean, in a way he was about half comatose. I picked up the phone and called the head of my department. He was a friend as well as an educational psychologist specializing in early childhood development. Not only that, but he and his wife had adopted several children from third world countries. "Hey Paul, it's Brick," I said. I gave him a brief run-down of Dougie's history-how his father had died and his mom was facing surgery, and how he was barely talking and also acting like a much younger child. "Paul," I said, "I even had to give him a bath. And I think he wanted me to even wash his penis," (I fudged the truth a bit). "Well did you?" Paul asked? "Well I..." I stammered. "If you didn't, you should have," Paul continued. "Really?" I asked. "Sure," Paul answered, "if he really was a little kid you'd wash him all over. Look," Paul continued, "his behavior really isn't that surprising. In the back of his mind he's freaking out. He's having some post-traumatic stress from the death of his father, brought on by the surgery of his mother. He's in a strange place with a guy he hasn't seen in years. He's trying to bond with you. He's testing you. He wants to make sure you're going to love him totally. He needs to know he's in a 100% safe place, both physically and emotionally." "Okay." "He may even regress further," Paul continued. "He might start sucking his thumb, cooing like a baby. He could even wet himself or poop his pants." "And what do I do if that happens?" I asked. "You go out and buy some diapers," Paul answered, "and then you clean his penis and his bottom, including his hole, with baby wipes, you powder him and you put him in a diaper. You do it gently and sweetly, with love-no judgement. Then after, you put him on your lap and cuddle him." "Are you serious? I mean, it's not that I would mind doing that, it just seems so...I don't know..." "I'm totally serious. You have to give this kid everything he wants. Hold him, read him kid stories. Give him a thousand kisses if he asks for it; and yes, I mean that literally. It's either that or you can take him to the emergency room. They'll put him in the mental ward where he won't get what he really wants and needs which is your acceptance and affection. And it could be weeks before you get him back out." "Well, we can't have that." "Look, Brick, you'll be fine, I know you will. If you just do everything he wants, I think you'll be surprised at how quickly he comes out of it. If you resist, it's just going to prolong the poor little guy's pain." I thanked Paul and as I hung up the phone I again remembered the promise I had made over Dougie when he hugged me in the car: "whatever it takes...whatever it takes." My erection had thankfully subsided. And even though it was fairly early, I realized how tired I was. Poor Dougie must be exhausted by now. I was definitely spent of all the sexually charged stuff we had done, so I made short work of getting him out of the tub and dried off. I then picked him up to carry him to his bed and once again he tightly wrapped my body with his arms and legs, only this time, it was his naked body pressing against my naked chest, his now softened little penis pressing against my stomach. My hands were holding him up by his bare butt. As tired as I was, I have to say it was nice. I almost wished that I lived in a huge mansion and that his bed was a 5 minute walk away. But I needn't be disappointed, because when I got him to his bed, he refused to let go of me. So, I simply pulled back the covers and laid down on my back with him still on top of me. I held him and gave him little kisses on top of his head. I stroked his hair and ran my fingers through it. I petted him from the top of his head, all the way down to the bottom of his little boy behind. In just a few minutes, he was sound asleep. I gently worked him off of me and covered him up. I gently kissed him on the forehead and left the room. I always slept in the buff but I had bought pajamas to wear for Dougie's visit, thinking that would be better with a guest in the house. But I was so tired, and after all the intimacy we had just shared I figured, "what does it matter?" So I quickly stripped off what clothes I had on and climbed into bed naked. As tired as I was, I was wound up so I decided to read for a bit in order to relax. After I had read for only a minute, I looked up to see Dougie's stark naked figure in the doorway. "What's the matter, little buddy?" I asked, "can't you sleep?" He headed wordlessly toward my bed. This could get interesting. Coming in Chapter Two -- A Thousand Kisses Friends, I was going to get more sexual in this first chapter, but I ended up spending so much time on the bathing scene that I felt the story had gone on long enough for now. And hopefully, the bathing scene got you off anyway! But please read chapter 2. I promise, you won't be disappointed! * * * * * * * * Check out my other stories - I'm on the author's list as "DJ." And don't forget to donate to Nifty. Thanks!