Send comments to:

Copyright 2003 by Nicholas. Happy Valentines Day!

I made this story up. The people aren't and weren't real. Well, maybe Old Lady Guffey was.

If you don't like love, get lost. If you don't like sex, get real. If you don't like boys, too bad.

If you can't vote, get your friend to read this to you.

Sit in his lap. Wiggle around. Okay, now calm down and enjoy the tail, opps I mean the tale.

Don't copy or steal this story.

Namaste, Nick

Fair Cupid's Dart

Chapter one

Paul couldn't believe what had happened over Christmas vacation. It was like manna from heaven. Old lady Guffey had gotten real sick during the holidays and her doctor had told her she couldn't come back to the sixth grade classroom where she had been teaching for the last 25 years. Paul knew this because his father was the town doctor and he had come home shaking his head at how Miss Guffey had cried and cried when he told her she couldn't teach again this year and maybe not ever.

Paul had sucked in his breath at supper when his Dad was talking about this and tried to act like he was sorry. He really was sorry, he didn't wish anything bad to Old Lady Guffey, but still, this was wonderful! She hated him of course. She had made that plain on the very first day when she had given him detention in the first ten minutes of the school year. Yeah, he had been horsing around in line with Mack and Charlie, but come on, the first ten minutes! It wasn't fair!

Then, she had done the unimaginable! As the class was let out for the first recess of the year a bunch of the boys had gone to the bathroom and well, maybe they had been a little loud and maybe there had been a little shoving and pushing, but come on, she had walked right inside! He'd been standing at the urinal with his dick hanging out minding his own business and suddenly she was right there! Yelling at them and ordering them outside and looking right at him peeing. He had jumped so hard when she scared him by rushing in that he let go of his dick and it decided to spray the wall instead of the urinal. Of course she didn't miss a thing like that and as soon as he got it under control and finished she was leading him straight to the principal's office. Her version of the story took about two seconds, "This young vandal has just defiled the bathroom walls with his body!" she announced to the principal.

"Thank you Miss Guffey. I will attend to this," replied Mrs. Paterson. "Paul, what's the story here."

Geesh, every adult in the school was a woman except for Mr. Kincaid the janitor, and here he was having to talk to Mrs. Paterson about peeing on the wall. It wasn't even noon yet, on the first day of school! He knew he was dead.

"I, uh, was just, uh, using the bathroom, well, and she came barging in yelling and screaming and scared the shit out of me!" God, did he just say that? If he'd been dead before, now he was just toast! "I mean, uh, well, uh, she scared me and I jumped, and when I jumped I kind of let go and it, well, you know, it kind of missed."

Mrs. Paterson couldn't believe this was actually happening. This was probably the funniest situation she had faced in the last few years and it was all she could do to keep a straight face and not just burst out laughing. She could imagine Old Lady Guffey barging right into the boy's room and scaring this kid out of his wits. Trying to maintain a stern expression, she told Paul to sit down. Walking around her desk, she looked the boy over and couldn't help but notice that this was one sixth grader who had probably started his way through puberty already. He was tall and gangly, thin as a rail and even though his clothes were back-to-school new, they weren't baggy and two sizes too big. In fact, glancing at the offending body area, she noticed that if anything, this boy might be too big for his britches, so to speak.

Paul was shaking in his chair. How could he ever explain this one to his Mom and Dad? Not three hours into the new school year and he had detention and he'd vandalized the bathroom. He knew he'd never see the light of day. He was grounded for life! Oh God, now she was looking at him and deciding what to do and suddenly he was popping a boner! What the hell was the matter with him! The damned thing just sprang up any old time now and here he was, awaiting execution and it decides to join the fun! Oh God, she had to see it. She'll know he's just a perv and everything! God!

Mrs. Paterson had a long history in public education administration. She had been through just about everything you could imagine, but this was too much. The poor child was scared, embarrassed, and now tenting his shorts like there was no tomorrow! She remembered her little brother walking around the house in his underwear sporting a hardon half the time and never seeming to even know it. Looking at Paul's face, she knew he knew it and she knew that he knew that she did too! Priceless! He was blushing about twenty shades of deep red.

"Well, humph, Paul. I know the first day back can be a little difficult sometimes to settle down and get back into the swing of school. I know you've never been a problem before, so why don't we just kind of forget about this. I can imagine Miss Guffey coming into the bathroom just might have "scared you shitless!" as you said. Why don't we just settle that you'll help Mr. Kincaid clean up the wall now and then we can forget about this. Deal?"

"Really? You won't tell my Mom? I mean, sure! Deal! I'll go get Mr. Kincaid and he can watch me scrub the whole bathroom if you won't tell my Mom and Dad!" Paul couldn't believe his luck, and now that he had something to be excited about, poof his boner was gone. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

"Deal!" Mrs. Paterson said, but then she couldn't resist, "Okay Paul, run down to Mr. Kincaid's office and I'll be right there, and next time, maybe two hands when you go to bat?"

Paul was so relieved, he could feel the clouds rolling back and the sun coming out. Maybe he would get to see the light of day again. He wasn't sure why Mrs. Paterson had said something about baseball, but he was already hurrying down the hall to Mr. Kincaid's office. Just as he got there, the penny dropped, two hands, at bat, Oh God, she had seen, she meant his dick!

Mr. Kincaid wasn't quite sure why this red faced boy was at his door, but just then his phone rang and Mrs. Paterson quickly told him the whole story. Smiling and looking out at Paul fidgeting and blushing, Mr. Kincaid called, "Okay Slugger. Let's go do a little scrubbing!"

Paul blushed another ten shades of red. He couldn't know! She'd never tell a story like that, would she? Surely he called everybody Slugger!

Chapter Two

The early fall had been one disaster after another, all seemingly right in front of Old Lady Guffey. There'd been the time on the playground when the football game had been real intense. Everybody was pumped and Paul's team was just one score behind. Mack had thrown him a long bomb and just as his hands had touched the ball, his feet had gone out from under him and he'd landed splat on the pavement. Even though he'd kept hold of the ball, he'd hurt and without even thinking he'd groaned, "Oh, fuck!" Starting to get up, the first thing he saw inches from his nose were those old lady shoes that only one person could be wearing. "Oh, fuck!" he'd repeated before he even realized it. Of course she heard. It wasn't like she didn't have bionic hearing or nothing. He was toast again!

Her version took about half of the usual two seconds, "Mrs. Paterson, this person has profaned twice on the playground."

Mrs. Paterson knew Miss Guffey enough to know the difference between swearing and profanity. Looking at the sweaty, shaking boy in front of her with a gravel coated t shirt, the beginnings of a bruise on his chin, and a little trickle of blood oozing from his kneecap, she couldn't understand why he had only profaned twice! This poor kid was going to have a rough year!

"Thank you Miss Guffey. I will attend to this," replied Mrs. Paterson. "Paul, what's the story here."

Paul breathed a little easier, at least Old Lady Guffey hadn't told her which word he'd said. "God, Mrs. Paterson. I didn't mean nothing by it. I mean, uh, I tripped and smacked down hard on the playground and I kind of said something I shouldn't have," Paul answered almost pleadingly. "I'm sorry, it hurt and it just kind of came out."

"Okay, Paul, I can see by your chin and knee that it probably hurt. Let's get the first aid kit and clean you up some." She went to the outer office and brought back the kit. Having Paul sit up on the edge of her desk, she took out the alcohol and a cotton pad and got a Band-Aid ready. "This will probably sting Paul, but we better get it cleaned. Your Dad can check it out when you get home. Now if this stings too much, find a word that doesn't start with F, okay?"

Paul thought, Oh man, how'd she know! It was like she could read his mind! Then suddenly the alcohol hit his wound and he did jump, at least his tongue behaved and said "Ow!" Just as he thought maybe he'd survive and not get into more trouble, boing! There it was again! This time not two feet from Mrs. Paterson's face! Paul quickly squirmed as Mrs. Paterson applied the Band-Aid and tried to cover his lap with his hands.

Mrs. Paterson thought she'd burst out laughing. Once again, this poor boy was tenting his shorts just when he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. She watched his boner rise almost instantly and almost dropped the Band-Aid as he squirmed around trying to cover up. Covering up was hard too, because he was almost poking himself in the belly button. Getting him to hop down, she tousled his hair and took her parting shot, "Good thing you were leading with your knee! If your nose had been poking out in front, you probably would have broken it off! Now, back to class!"

Man, this was too good to be true, no punishment? Paul was out of her office like a flash. What'd she mean about his nose? It wouldn't be poking out in front, you always turned your head when you fell. Oh, God, she meant his dick again! Why'd it have to cause so much trouble!

Chapter Three

At Halloween he'd had a sleep over with Mack and Charlie at Charlie's house. They'd gone trick or treating, Charlie's Mom was cool and had helped them with makeup up and stuff so they looked like zombies and monsters. They hadn't had to go with Mack's little brother and sister, so it had been kind of a grownup Halloween and they had had a blast. Of course there was a lot of candy and they had gotten real daring at one place and stolen the jack-o-lantern, but they were too scared to smash it, so they had just put it down by the driveway. The guy had seen them and came out and yelled and they took off running. It had been pretty exciting and now they were sharing popcorn, cokes and candy and retelling the story to themselves. As they settled down, they did a little exploring like they had started that summer. Charlie was impressed that Paul had sprouted about six hairs on either side of his dick. Mack was still the smallest, with tiny balls and a tiny dick. Charlie's balls had grown some, but Paul was clearly way ahead. As they touched each other and giggled and moaned, Paul felt a boiling he had never known before and then Mack was grabbing his hand back saying, "Gross, man, you peed on me!"

"No I didn't," Paul protested, but Mack held out his hand and Paul could see it was wet. Looking at his dick he could see just a little drop of something on the end.

"Cool, man," Charlie pronounced. "That's sperm! Paul's making sperm, see!" and he reached out and gently touched the drop on Paul's dick and moved his hand away and the stuff stretched out in a long thin sticky string from Paul's dick to Charlie's finger.

"Gross, man. I ain't touching it again!" Mack said and turned over away from the other boys.

"Hey, I'm tired, let's go to sleep," Paul said more to cover up than anything else. "Night guys, that pumpkin was cool!"

"Yeah, way cool," Charlie replied but as he settled down in his sleeping bag, his hand moved back and held Paul's dick. Charlie looked over at Paul and just winked as his hand stroked the juice from Paul's straining dick up and around it's head. Paul couldn't believe how good it felt and he wanted to thank Charlie, but he kept silent and just quietly reached into Charlie's sleeping bag and played with his dick and balls in return.

Chapter Four

Paul had a terrible time just before Thanksgiving. He couldn't believe how Old Lady Guffey seemed to see everything and be everywhere. He had detention every day it seemed and he didn't think he'd been out to recess for months! In music, he'd be singing, he'd always done some solos and Mrs. Iverson would ask him to sing a part and suddenly he'd be croaking like a bloody frog! The girls would be giggling and laughing and Mrs. Iverson would shake her head and ask Mack to sing that part.

They'd be doing a science experiment and suddenly he couldn't hold on to anything. He must have broken a half dozen pieces of equipment before Old Lady Guffey assigned him to work with Miss Prissy Lisa. She wouldn't let him touch anything and although he'd get an A along with her, it wasn't as much fun as when he had Charlie as a partner.

The worst part was his dick was just out of control.

They'd be in PE class and he'd be running the bases in kickball and his dick would bone up and get stuck in his underwear. He'd watched the World Series and laughed every time one of the runners would get on base then start scratching their crotch, but now he knew it wasn't so funny. Man, it could hurt when it got stuck under the elastic of the legs.

They'd be watching some dumb movie and he'd bone up.

They'd be sitting in reading group and he'd bone up.

He'd be at the blackboard doing a math problem, I mean, my God, a MATH problem and he'd bone up. He was sure everyone could see it and he'd blush about ten shades and get so flustered he couldn't add two and two. Old Lady Guffey would huff and send him to his seat and one of the girls would go up and solve the problem like he was an idiot.

He'd be day dreaming and thinking about how good it felt when Charlie played with him and he'd get so boned up it would leak! Then Charlie would sit beside him at lunch and drive him nuts because he'd reach under the table and actually rub him. Right there in front of everybody, Charlie's hand would snake down and touch him, he'd bone so hard, he had to spill his milk at lunch just to cover up the wet spot on his jeans. Charlie would grin and keep on eating.

He didn't know how he was going to make it through the year, and then the God Send. Old Lady Guffey was sick. Anything had to be better than what he had been going through.

Chapter Five

Everybody was a buzz on the playground. The story of Old Lady Guffey quitting was all over town, but no one knew what was going to happen; who their new teacher was going to be. Paul didn't care. It had to be better. He had a chance to save his sixth grade year.

It seemed like a conspiracy, because as the bell rang and they entered the classroom, nobody was in the teacher's chair. All the kids were buzzing and it was getting a little loud. Between telling each other what they had gotten for Christmas, the girls checking out each others new clothes, the boys just being pushy and shovey, no one saw him enter. Suddenly he spoke, "People! Let's get settled! I'm Mr. Kincaid and I'm your new teacher. I'm sure you've heard about Miss Guffey's illness and I know you'll miss her..."

"Yeah, like cat's miss fleas!" Mack whispered to Paul.

"but I'm sure we're going to have a great rest of the year. Now you may be wondering, yes, I am Mr. Kincaid your custodian's son. I've just graduated from college and this is my first teaching job, so you get to be my guinea pigs."

That sent most of the girls giggling, although Miss Prissy Lisa hated guinea pigs and she made some yuck noises. The boys were laughing when Mr. Kincaid started again.

"I've heard lot's of stories about this school, so I feel like I already know you," and he looked right at Paul and winked. Paul thought he would die! It was bad enough that he'd been staring open mouthed ever since the guy had been speaking, but now he was looking right at him and winked! Oh God, what was he in for now? His dick had betrayed him the minute he'd seen Mr. Kincaid. It was bigger than it had ever been and seemed to be sucking the breath right out of his lungs. This guy was gorgeous! Paul had never paid any attention to girls or boys, except to think of Charlie rubbing him. Now he was flat out smacked between the eyes by the guy standing in front of the class announcing he would be there every minute of every day for the rest of Paul's life! How was he going to be able to survive! How was he going to keep from exploding the zipper right off his jeans? How was he ever going to be able to breathe, let alone talk again. Oh God, make Old Lady Guffey well! Get her back here tomorrow! Detention had to be better than this!

"Okay," Mr. Kincaid was saying, "Let's roll! Math books please, page 78. Lisa and Charlie, will you come to the board first?"

The rest of the day was a pure haze to Paul. He didn't have the faintest idea what they had covered. Charlie had to keep poking him to get him to know it was time for recess or lunch. In fact, Charlie was teasing him about not having had recess in so long he'd forgotten how to leave the classroom! He'd basically led him to lunch and then gotten a little concerned that Paul was so out of it. After lunch he'd told Mr. Kincaid that he thought Paul was sick, because he sure wasn't acting right. Mr. Kincaid had tousled Charlie's hair and sent him out with a cheery "Thanks." Then at the end of the day, just when Paul thought he'd made it, Mr. Kincaid reminded them of their homework assignment and dismissed them at the bell, but as Paul stumbled by the desk he'd said, "Hey, Slugger! You don't look like you feel so good. Are you okay?"

Slugger???? He'd called him Slugger???? Did he know? Had old Mr. Kincaid told new Mr. Kincaid? Paul was stunned and just couldn't handle it.

He bolted from the room and ran down the hall and past Mrs. Paterson as if she wasn't even standing there. He didn't even hear her yelling, "Walk, Paul!" Once on the playground, he collapsed and half panting and half sobbing he just sat there. Trying to keep from crying, trying to keep from laughing, trying to hold himself together.

Then Charlie was there and pulling him up, he more or less led him home.

Chapter Six

Mr. Kincaid had won the girls over quickly with his good looks and his nice manner. The boys had taken a couple of days, but as they realized he was fair and had a pretty good sense of humor, they came around and it looked like it was going to be a great rest of the year.

Paul was almost a zombie in class. Every day he'd wake up in the morning with a raging boner thinking about Mr. Kincaid touching him like Charlie did. Every night he'd go to sleep having sprayed his sheets while imagining himself holding Mr. Kincaid. Every breakfast he'd swear that it was okay, he could breathe, he'd get over it. My God, it was a teacher! They were the sworn enemy of every boy weren't they? He'd look at Mr. Kincaid today and he'd get over it. Never happened.

Paul would walk into the school and pop a boner. He'd walk into class and see Mr. Kincaid sitting there and he'd start to cream his shorts. He'd started wearing a paper towel between his dick and his underwear to try and catch the flow. He'd talked his mother into the ugliest Fruit of the Loom tighty whitey's because they had two layers of material over the crotch. He thought that would help hide his problem too. His mother couldn't understand why he wanted to give up the pretty boxers he had been wearing and he thought he'd die when he heard her tell his father that he was ruining his sheets every night. His father had laughed and told her to relax, only seven more years before he was off to college, boys would be boys and at least we didn't have to buy and explain tampons! She had harumphed in reply but then laughed that she'd never had brothers so he'd have to help her through this. He did die when they started cuddling and smooching then, because he looked around the corner and as his father got up to hug his mother, Paul saw that his Dad had boned up too!

Class was just one big drawn out dream. He was stupefied whenever he looked at Mr. Kincaid. He'd stumble through math problems and could barely read when called up. Of course Mr. Kincaid was concerned, because Miss Guffey's notes had said he was an acting out problem and needed lots of discipline. Mr. Kincaid was discovering that his observations and Miss Guffey's were often at odds, but never more so than over Paul. He'd talked to Mrs. Paterson some about his concerns and she had told him that she thought most of Paul's problems with Miss Guffey had really been just that Paul was growing faster physically than sometimes socially or emotionally and that Miss Guffey had always treated boys with a lot of suspicion. She'd thought about sharing the episodes of Paul's embarrassment, but decided that they should remain her private stories for when she retired, he'd been so cute with his blushing face, scared puppy attitude and giant bone!

Because Mr. Kincaid was worried about Paul and because Paul's school work was suffering from his muddled mind, Mr. Kincaid took an active role in trying to draw the boy out. When they were taking tests he'd walk between the desks and often stop near Paul, trying to will some confidence into the boy. Of course having Mr. Kincaid standing so close that he could feel his body heat and smell his cologne sent Paul farther into his trance.

During one session at the blackboard, Mr. Kincaid had actually walked over and placed his hand on Paul's shoulder and tried to explain the problem. Paul had practically blacked out at the touch. It was like a live electric wire had been stabbed into his shoulder and run right down his chest and stomach and into his dick and balls. It had been so strong, Paul had not leaked, he had actually shot his load, directly into his paper towel and special absorbing underwear. It had shocked Paul so much, that he had immediately gotten sick and ran from the classroom and thrown up in the bathroom. Charlie had been sent right after him and quickly got Mr. Kincaid and they steered Paul to the teacher's room and had him lie on the couch while they called his mother to come get him. Mr. Kincaid sat beside Paul on the couch and rubbed his chest and soothed his hair while Mrs. Paterson watched the classroom.

Paul was just a jumble of raw nerve endings. He'd spunked his pants and puked his guts out and now Mr. Kincaid was just rubbing his chest and head. He was in heaven. To feel those hands touching him, to feel them loving and caressing him was so much more than even when Charlie rubbed his dick. He couldn't believe what he was feeling. How peaceful it made him seem to lie there and be petted like a puppy dog. He grabbed Mr. Kincaid's hand and held it tight to his chest and then lifted it and rubbed his cheek. He wanted so to guide it down and show it where he was tenting his pants again and swimming in his own cum, but he knew if he tried that he'd really be done for.

Mr. Kincaid was surprised as Paul took his hand, but he could feel the boy's flushed face and thought his cooler hand must be a sort of balm. For his own part, he realized he was really worried about this little guy and that he had feelings as he rubbed the little chest and face that probably weren't what a teacher should feel, but Paul seemed so fragile and hurting that he just wanted to make him better.

At recess, Mr. Kincaid went back to his class and Paul dozed until his mother came to get him. At home, he crawled into bed over his mother's protests that he hadn't even taken his pants off. He knew he couldn't, because she would see and know what a perv he was for squirting. He just moaned and turned over and pretended to sleep.

A few hours later his dad came home and his mom sent him right up in his doctor role. Paul had managed to get out of his soiled underwear and cleanup the mess during the afternoon and he was glad he had, because his dad went right into doctor mode. Throwing back the bedclothes, he began by listening to Paul's lungs with the stethoscope and then asking about when he'd thrown up. He began poking around on Paul's abdomen. Never one to brook any objection while he was a doctor, he simply lifted Paul's underwear up and away and then down his legs. Gently pressing into Paul's waist and pubic area, he shushed the boy as Paul said, "Dad, please!"

"Paul, you're still my patient and I'm still the Doctor. Now tell me, were you sick here?" he pressed against the lower left side just inside Paul's hip bone.

"No," Paul whispered.

"Here?" he asked pressing just above the little group of hairs in the little valley above Paul's growing penis.

"No," Paul whispered again.

Raising an eyebrow at his son, Paul's father gently held the hardening penis and cupped the balls beneath, "Here?"

"Yes, sir," Paul whispered and then blushed as his dick gave a little jerk at the warmth of his father's touch.

"Okay," his father said, but didn't remove his hand. "I'm going to talk to you as Doctor first, fellow boy second, and father last, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Paul whispered again.

"As Doctor then, when you leak or shoot, does it ever burn inside?"


"Good, if it ever does, you must promise me to come to me as Doctor right away. Just like the rest of your body, most of what happens here, " and he gave a little squeeze and stroked, "is good. But, you can get sick here too, and it can be very nasty and very dangerous. You must promise that pain here in the penis, and especially here in the testicles you'll tell me about right away."

Paul nodded his assent.

"As a fellow boy, or rather man, you need to know that every single other man and boy will have the same feelings, the same embarrassing moments and the same problems you are having now. Some of your friends have already had them, some won't have them for a while. I think Charlie's probably already there and I see by your blush that's true, but Mack probably has a ways to go yet. That's your business not mine, but it doesn't matter, every boy goes through it. Sometimes it happens when you want it too, and sometimes it just happens. Sometimes you'd give anything to make it stop happening! Every boy pleasures themselves and practically every boy experiments with his friends. It's not wrong, it's not bad, it's life. Understand?"


"Now, as a father then. This: Fair Cupid's Dart," and he stroked it some more, "is one of the most pleasurable parts of your body, but there are many more. Your mother tells me you've been staining your sheets for some time, so I know you know a little of the pleasure. Don't be afraid of the pleasure. Trust yourself, if it feels good, and I mean both here in your penis and there in your heart and there in your head, then it probably is good. Don't be afraid. But if it doesn't feel right in any of those places, just stop. You'll be with other people, and you should think about how it feels for them too, in all three places. If it's good on your penis and good in your head but not good in your heart, then it's not good. If it's good everywhere, then how can it be wrong? It has to be that way for both people, or everyone if it's more than two. I trust your judgment and you should too. Cupid was the god of Love and his dart was never meant to hurt anyone, You're a good boy who always tries to do the right thing and I know you'll never hurt anyone with your dart here either. Someday you'll bring someone home who's touched you all three places and we'll welcome them into our family." And as he finished talking he brushed Paul's forehead with his left hand and stroked again with his right. "Now, when you're finished with this, come down to supper," and he leaned into Paul and kissed him on the forehead.

Paul quickly replaced his father's hand with his own, and as his father closed the bedroom door, Paul's hand was a blur he was stroking himself so fast. His shot was quick and strong and hard and the first spurt actually hit him on the chin with four more dribbling down his chest.

Wiping up and quickly dressing, Paul skipped downstairs and into the dining room. His Father was at the table looking at the paper, his Mother was still in the kitchen. Glancing up his Father winked and said, "Glad you are up to coming, to supper, I mean. Come here."

Paul walked over to him blushing furiously at what his Father had said about up and coming.

"You've got a little hand cream here on your chin," his Father said reaching out and with one finger kind of caressing his chin. Then his Father held out his finger so he could see and Paul wanted to melt! Hand Cream! He hadn't used any cream, but God, his hand had made him cream and here was the evidence, worn right down to show his mother and father what a perv he was! Then he gasped as his Father licked his own finger and the evidence disappeared! "Go wash your face, us boy's have got to lend each other a helping hand every now and then."

Paul stumbled to the bathroom and wiped his face with a washcloth. God, did his Father mean what he said! A helping hand! Geesh! This was the most confusing day he'd ever had. And his Father had licked it up! Tasted it and licked his lips! Wasn't that supposed to be gross? He'd never thought of that, but his Father had been smiling!

"Honey? Paul?" he heard his mother call from the kitchen. "Have you seen the paper towels, I just bought some and now I can't find them?"

"They're up in Paul's room, Honey. I thought I might need them if he was really sick." There were up in Paul's room all right. He'd sneaked them up yesterday to stuff in his pants. Maybe all boys and men did go through what he was going through. His Dad was sure being super neat! He flew back out of the bathroom and slammed into his Dad with a great big hug and a huge kiss on the cheek.

"Love you too, Son." his Dad hugged him back.

Paul lay in bed that night and he couldn't believe how good it felt to know it was okay. His Father always talked so funny sometimes, but this time Paul knew right off what he had meant. His dreams of Mr. Kincaid had always felt so good in his head and his dick, and now after laying on the couch at school and feeling Mr. Kincaid stroke his chest and face, he knew it was good in his heart too. He knew tomorrow would be a second new beginning for his sixth grade year.

Chapter Seven

Paul ran to school and skipped past Mrs. Paterson down the hallway the next morning. "Good Morning, Paul, You seem much better today," she said as he bounced past.

"Yes, Ma'am, thanks!" he sang and he turned the corner.

Stopping just outside the classroom, Paul steeled himself to enter. He knew it would be okay. He felt it deep in his heart and his head that everything was great now. He was a little surprised that his dick was even cooperating and staying down! He squared his shoulders and walked in and right up to Mr. Kincaid's desk. "Thanks for taking care of me yesterday. I'm sorry I was such a dork and got sick," he beamed at a stunned Mr. Kincaid.

Paul had never uttered a single word voluntarily to him and suddenly he'd offered two whole sentences! As the day progressed, Mr. Kincaid was first bemused and then beguiled by the change in Paul. He was an outgoing, happy, normal boy. His smile was ready and directed mostly at Mr. Kincaid and it made him feel warm and happy. If he'd tried to be close to Paul to give him confidence before, today he found himself wanting to be close to grab some of the warmth and joy just radiating from the boy. He'd often gone to the lunch room and sat with his students and today he found himself a virtual sandwich between Paul and his friend Charlie as they laughed and told boy stories of Halloween pranks, probably more imagined than real since they got bigger and bigger with each telling. Mr. Kincaid felt the heat from Paul's lean body as it rubbed against him and he thought the boy was actually purring as he tousled his hair and sent them out to recess.

Paul was a star at the blackboard during math, finishing every problem first with not a single mistake. You could tell Charlie was as happy as Mr. Kincaid to have his smiling buddy back. They seemed to plot a recess coup and suddenly the football game had more energy and excitement than Mr. Kincaid had ever seen on the playground. Everyone except Miss Prissy Lisa seemed to like Paul and several times Mr. Kincaid heard someone tell him that they were glad Paul was back to normal. If this was normal, Mr. Kincaid was all for it!

Paul was in heaven skipping home that afternoon. He'd only popped a boner once all day, when he was sitting beside and rubbing up against Mr. Kincaid at lunch and it hadn't scared him or anything. It had felt so right, so good, to be next to this man and talking with him and laughing and feeling full in his dick. He hadn't shot or anything and the little bit of leaking had hardly wetted the paper towel, but it had felt fantastical!

He started going up to Mr. Kincaid's desk during study time and asking questions about science or math. Mr. Kincaid would sit at his desk using the little writing board to hold the kid's work and he'd have his knee out to the side. Paul learned the first time he'd gone up to talk that he could actually rub up against Mr. Kincaid's knee with his dick and it felt awesome. Mr. Kincaid either couldn't feel it, or didn't know, but soon Paul was basically bouncing his dick on Mr. Kincaid's leg at least once a day.

At first, Mr. Kincaid thought it was an accidental touch, but as it happened again, and then became a regular thing, he was first a little scared, and then a lot turned on. This radiant boy was using him as a jack off tool. Mr. Kincaid was stunned and then incredibly horned up as Paul rubbed up against him. One time he started bouncing his knee a little and he could watch Paul's face as he saw him glaze over and then tense and then he must have actually shot in his pants. Paul kind of stopped talking and just stood there for a moment and then his face cleared and he just grinned from ear to ear. "Cool!" he said and reached his hand under the desk and hugged Mr. Kincaid's thigh against himself. Mr. Kincaid decided he would have to spend the rest of the day at his desk, because he couldn't trust that he wouldn't follow suit and shoot his load if the friction of his pants even touched his own dick.

Mr. Kincaid, Brent to his father and the other teachers, was definitely gone for this boy. He'd never expected to have any feelings for one of his students and then to have them, and for it to be a boy was really pretty frightening. He couldn't shake them though and he'd get to his apartment after school and could hardly wait to get inside to stroke himself to climax. He'd wake in the middle of the night with the face of Paul looking him squarely in the eyes and he'd have creamed his sheets dreaming of touching the boy and being touched. He knew this was dangerous territory, but it just felt so good and the boy seemed so happy around him that he swore nothing would ever happen, and that dreams never hurt anyone.

Paul became more outgoing and was doing better and better in school every day. He'd figured out ways to be near Mr. Kincaid with out seeming to be a pest and would touch him every chance he could get. As January turned into February, Paul began planning what he considered his final prize. He decided he was going to act on all his dreams and that Friday, February 14th, Valentines Day, he was going to be with Mr. Kincaid and they would prove that all three parts were right. He was going to love the man he loved. First thing he did was look Mr. Kincaid up in the phonebook and find out where he lived. Then, when it snowed a little one Friday night, he was knocking on his door the next morning, snow shovel in hand, to shovel the walk. He pretended like he didn't know who lived there and was surprised to see Mr. Kincaid. Brent was really surprised to see the boy of his dreams at the door and decided that he'd do his landlady a favor and he paid Paul to shovel the walk and drive. As Paul finished, Brent brought him inside and paid him twenty dollars and offered him some hot cocoa.

Paul was really pleased and shucked his winter coat and gloves and snow pants and sat down in the living room and slurped his chocolate. As he finished, he asked if he could stay and watch TV. It looked like Mr. Kincaid had a lot of cool movies and he'd like to see some of them. Mr. Kincaid told him to call him Brent when they weren't at school, and sure if he wanted to watch a movie that would be great, if his mother wouldn't mind.

Paul said, "Mom doesn't expect me home, because I told her I was going to earn money shoveling all day and now that I have twenty dollars I don't even need to do that anymore!" and he launched himself across the room and into Brent's arms in a big hug saying, "Thanks Brent!"

"You're welcome, Paul," Brent replied while holding and stroking the bundle of joy he'd been dreaming of holding these last few weeks.

Sitting on the couch, Brent cuddled Paul under his arm and they put in a movie and started it. Brent couldn't even remember what movie it was later, he'd been so distracted by the closeness of Paul's body and the fresh scent of his hair and the body cuddled into his chest.

Paul was in heaven too and held Brent's arm tightly around him trying to melt himself into this big beautiful man holding him so safely. As the movie finished, he squirmed around and planted a kiss on Brent's cheek and whispered, "Thanks, I really like you holding me."

Brent was stunned but managed to reply, "You're pretty wonderful to hold, Paul!"

"Cool," Paul cooed and then in a fit of 12 year old energy, he bounded up and stretching announced, "I'm starved, what time is it?"

"It's 4:30," Brent said glancing at the clock.

"Great! Mom has supper just about ready, why don't you come join us?"

"I don't know..." Brent paused.

"Look I'll call and ask, can I use your phone."

"If you don't think she'd mind?" Brent ventured.

"Nope, she won't," Paul promised dialing home. "Hey Mom, guess who's big old drive and walk I just scooped? No, not the mayor's, geesh! Mr. Kincaid's! He's got a big one too! He made me a cup of hot chocolate, too. Can he come over for supper? His house is a little, well you know, and he probably hasn't eaten anything as good as your cooking in a while!"

Paul looked over at Brent and winked real big and Brent thought the little con artist was actually going to make this work!

"Great we'll be there in 15 minutes, okay? Super, Thanks Mom."

"All set, get your gear on, it's just a short walk."

"I don't know, Paul."

"Hey! It's all set, you want to make me look like a dork!"

Laughing, Brent grabbed Paul and tickling he said, " Never a dork, Slugger. Never a dork!"

"Hey, how'd you know about Slugger, anyway," Paul whined.

"Two hands on the bat, boy!" Brent laughed.

"God, you do know!" Paul flashed bright red. "Please, don't ever tell anyone? Please?"

"I'd never tell something like that, Paul," and he stopped tickling and just hugged Paul to him.

Chapter Eight

Dinner was better and easier than Brent expected. Paul's mother and father were very nice and the dinner conversation was very grown up about the world and events. Paul was included and his opinions both solicited and respected. Brent found he was having a great time and really enjoying the company. At one point he said, "You know this is really nice. I must admit since moving back here and starting to teach I don't think I've had real conversation with anyone older than 13 once. Not that kid's are boring, Paul, but I don't think many of your class mates have a dinner table like this."

"Whoop! You're right about that!" Paul hooted. "I eat over at Charlie or Mack's and it's all diapers and babies or 'Shut up and eat!' the whole time. It's fun to talk here."

"Brent, you're welcome anytime," Paul's father said. "I think Paul's pretty glad you rescued him from Old Lady Guffey and he owes you about a thousand meals!"

"You're right about that Dad!" Paul yelped and leaping up, ran first to his father with a big hug and kiss and then to Brent with the same and finally to his mother adding a big, "Thanks for a wonderful supper!"

Paul's Dad invited Brent into the family room where they settled into a glass of wine as he put on the classical radio station he loved. The sat and talked about college and starting life. Paul lay on the floor between them and scrunched into a pillow just flowing with the sound of the two deep voices and the music washing over him. He didn't notice, but his Father did and cocking an eyebrow at Brent he looked down as Paul slowly humped his raging dick into the floor in time to the music. Paul's Dad raised his wine glass to Brent and smiled, "Ah, the power of youth!"

Brent blushed, but toasted back and watched as Paul rhythmically pleasured himself oblivious to all around him.

When it had gotten late and Paul had gotten tired and his Dad had sent him off to bed, he'd risen from his place on the floor with his boner still clearly poking upwards in his pants. Giving Brent a hug and then going to his father with a real cuddle and kiss, Brent watched as the object of his dreams waved what appeared to be an enormous erection in front of himself as he stumbled sleepy headed off to bed.

Brent had made his excuses and thanked them for a wonderful evening and as Paul's father shook his hand and clasped his shoulder he heard him say, "Paul really thinks you're a wonderful teacher. Thanks for rescuing him. Now, let's make this a regular Saturday night thing, will you come back again?"

Brent was surprised and very pleased, "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Good see you next week."

Brent stroked himself to an amazing climax that night with visions of Paul humping the carpet, cuddling into his chest and flinging himself into his arms.

Paul had already messed his sheets, barely getting his pants off in his efforts to relieve the tensions in his dick. They both had shared the visions if not the pleasure.

Chapter Nine

Paul spent the next week talking romance to his parents at dinner. It was coming up on Valentines Day in a couple of weeks and what were they going to do? They needed to do something special, he knew they loved each other, but it just didn't seem that roses and candy were what this Valentines Day should be about.

Paul's Father was bemused by his son's seeming romantic streak, but his mother was bowled over. Every time he brought it up she thought more and more how a romantic weekend in the city, or at a little bed and breakfast in the country would be a fun idea. In fact she started on her husband a little bit as they settled into bed at night.

That Saturday with Brent at dinner, Paul started again and tried to get Brent to side with the weekend in the country idea. Brent was a little taken aback, but remembered once when he was a boy and his parents had taken a weekend off and how it had made everything seem so great. His Father had been happy for months and his Mother never did stop talking about it.

Paul's Mother grabbed the stake and pretty well rammed it home on Paul's Dad. With a bemused smile, he graciously gave in and soon they were all talking about should it be the country or should it be the city?

Then just as they had decided, Paul's Mother gasped and blurted out, "What about you Paul? You'll have to have a baby-sitter if we are gone all weekend!"

"Mom!" Paul whined. "A Baby-sitter?! I'm too old for a baby-sitter. The kids at school would laugh me out of class if they know I needed a baby-sitter!"

"Well, just the same, you can't stay alone!" she pronounced.

Then suddenly, Brent spoke up and surprising himself said, "Well, Paul could stay with me, or I could stay here? I'm sure as a teacher I'd qualify for baby-sitting duties, seems like that's what it is some days."

Paul's Father was howling with laughter, "You know, the Teacher's Association always comes to contract talks with a proposal that teacher's be paid the prevailing baby-sitter rate! Thank God they never put it in the paper, but you'd make more money if we had to pay you like a baby-sitter! I think that's a capital idea. What do you say Paul?"

"Well, I don't know, I wouldn't have any extra homework or anything, would I?"

"I'm sure Brent wouldn't do that to you and we won't have to tell anyone, he can just stay over here and it'll be like normal, except you'd need to go to Charlie's instead of him coming over if you really want to keep it a secret."

Paul's Mom was saying, "Brent, That's so nice of you. I'm sure Paul will be good and not give you any trouble. He may whine a little, but he always sees that we know best." She thought how nice it was that Paul was so easy to control and that he'd do as he was told.

"Aw, Mom! This's cool Dad. I think it's a pretty neat idea." Paul was beaming that his plan had worked so well, grown ups were so easy to get to do stuff! This time they even thought it was their idea!

The week was a blur again for Paul. He'd succeeded in getting himself alone with Mr. Kincaid and now he had to tackle his plan for the really romantic stuff. They had a Valentines Party on Friday and even though they had to make valentines for everyone, girls and boys, he knew that several of the boy's had made special ones for some of the girls. Paul had worked real hard in art class on his special valentine and even the art teacher had been impressed when he drew a reputable Cupid and put a poem he'd written on the inside. "That's one lucky girl to get a special valentine like that," she said. Paul just grinned and put it in his math book to take home.

As the day came to a close, Paul was a wired bundle of fire. He raced home and started on his plan. He'd picked up his room all week and now he put candles out and arranged them as he thought that they should look. He raced downstairs and started the oven with the casserole his mother had left for the weekend. He set the table and included candles and wine glasses as well as the best china he dared use from the cupboard. He started the CD player with some of his Dad's music that he liked and started the fireplace in the family room and left the lights lowered.

Then he raced back upstairs and stripping down he jumped into the shower and scrubbed up clean. His washed his hair and used the conditioner he usually forgot. He rubbed down dry and sprinkled a little of his Dad's favorite cologne on his chest and dressed again in some of the discarded "pretty" boxers his mother liked and put on chinos and a white button down shirt but stayed barefoot. Looking in the mirror, he decided he'd pass even if he was too damned skinny. Nothing he could do about that tonight!

The door bell rang and taking a deep breath, Paul went to the door and opened it to his teacher, his baby-sitter, his love and soon to be his lover.

Brent's breath was taken away. Here was his Slugger, dressed wonderfully in beautiful clothes and barefoot, standing at the threshold inviting him inside. As he entered, Paul reached out and hugged him close, saying, "I'm so glad you came. It feels so right to hug you now."

Hugging back, Brent whispered. "God, you are beautiful! It feels wonderful to hold you too."

Paul led him to the family room and getting him settled onto the couch he brought him a glass of wine. Then sitting on the floor, he undid Brent's shoes and took them off. Gently running his hands over Brent's feet, he massaged them for a moment and then standing up, curled sidewise and melted under Brent's arm and into his chest. He placed his cheek against Brent's chest and listening to his heart beat he twirled his hand around between the buttons on the shirt and whispered, "Yes, it says it's good too!"

"What says it's good?" Brent asked although with Paul wrapped around him like this he could barely dare to speak.

"Your heart! I can hear it and it's happy, it says it's good to sit like this. See," and taking Brent's hand he placed it palm down, first on Brent's chest, and then moving it to his own, "mine's happy too!"

Brent wondered how he could answer something like that. This boy was just melting him, just taking him inside, just quietly, surely, vanquishing his soul.

They sat like that just soaking up the feelings of love and peace between them when the oven timer dinged. Paul jumped, then giggling at himself, curled out of Brent's arms and seemingly just floating off the couch pulled Brent behind him toward the dining table. Seating him he gave him the lighter and asked him to light the candles while he served the dinner. Brent was still in fog, but managed to get the candles lit just as Paul served the casserole. They ate in a mixture of silent communion and little fits of giggles and conversations about absolutely nothing that Brent could ever remember. He was lost in the sparkling eyes of the vision sitting across from him, and lost to the feelings of love that kept washing over him in waves.

Paul made the wine glass full and the water serve and the love flow and the dinner was a wonderful treat. When they were finished eating, it seemed the table cleared itself, the food to the refrigerator and the dishes to the washer. Then Paul was placing coffee and a little snifter of brandy beside Brent along with a large pink envelope.

Brent was beyond all rational thought as the boy crowded against him, wiggling into his lap and caressing his cheek as he offered up the envelope as if it were gold. Brent took a sip of the brandy and then of the coffee and then accepted the gift. Turning it slowly round, he slit it with his table knife and pulled forth the most beautiful Valentine he'd ever seen. It wasn't frilly, but had a hand drawn Cupid on the front and opening it, he gasped as he read in Paul's unpolished, but clean, schoolboy script:

Fair Cupid's Dart has flown, and flying pierced my heart.

My heart is torn, and lying waits to start

To beat again and beating from your touch

It loves again and now it loves so much

My heart is soaring, and soaring would depart

Unless it's tethered once again; Captured by my Fair Cupid's Dart.

Be Mine, Love Paul

Brent's tears fell freely as he placed this treasure on the table and then he turned to Paul and hugging him and kissing his cheek, he whispered, "Always Paul, for now and every day you'll have me."

Then Paul was kissing him first on the lips and on the eyes and everywhere and then they were inhaling each others' breath and tongues were tenderly caressing tongues. Paul was squirming round and straddling Brent as he just seemed to climb inside. They hugged and kissed and caressed and melted into each other and Paul began to unbutton Brent's shirt. As his hands began to explore Brent's chest and back, he squirmed some more and lifting off his man, he never broke the kiss but led Brent up the stairs to the flickering lights illuminating his young boy's room.

Pulling Brent's hands to his shirt, he got him to begin to undress him and soon they were both nude and rolling on the sheets. Paul was touching Brent everywhere, caressing his chest, his thighs and softly touching his balls and dick.

Brent was gasping and writhing under the touch of this loving boy. Paul was whispering, "It's good, it's good all over, I can feel it in my heart, my head, my body. Oh this is so good, so right."

Then Brent was pleasuring the boy. He stroked his chest and sides, he cupped his tiny bubble butt. He turned him head to tail and took the straining boycock in his mouth. This was more than Paul had ever imagined, the heat, the swirling tongue, the incredible pleasure driving up into his brain. He cried out his ecstasy and thrusting hips forward he crammed himself into Brent's willing mouth and shaking, shot his sweet boy cream again and again. Brent savored every drop and stopped his twirling tongue, but kept the precious morsel in his mouth and sure enough, the resilience of a just pubescent boy had Paul gasping again in minutes and ready for more.

Paul wanted nothing more than to share the incredible feelings he had just roller coasted through and opening his eyes he saw Brent's leaking faucet just in front of his face. Without hardly moving, he captured his prize and began his own swirling tongue. He'd never thought of tasting Charlie and didn't even know it could be done, but now with Brent trapped firmly in his lips he knew he'd found another of the pleasure spots his father said he'd know. It was his mouth! Could you believe it, he'd been sucking things since he was a baby and suddenly it all made sense, this is what he wanted to taste. This is what the perfect circle of his mouth was made to hold. This was what the combination of lips and tongue were meant to feel. It was incredibly hot, it was hard as steel, it was soft as cotton, it was so many many things. He almost fainted from the pleasure coming from the taste buds on his tongue.

Then suddenly another place was crying for some attention from his brain. His cock was loose and cold, released from the furnace of Brent's mouth, but something seemed to be pounding into his head, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. He couldn't find it at first, but then his eyes flew open and he knew, Brent's tongue was licking at his hole. The secret place his doctor father hadn't even seen in years was being loved and loving back! He sucked in his breath and saw stars swimming in the sky as the feelings overwhelmed his body. Oh, this was good, this was so right, this was the man to whom he belonged!

As Brent sent his tongue again into the recess of his boy's body, he felt the other tongue take his own rigid pole around the world and set it free. His balls boiled and his cock head swelled. He tried to warn Paul, but he was too late, too gone, too fixated on the hole in front of his eyes. He shot his wad and Paul was almost drowned.

Paul choked and then dropped the spurting pole and as it pumped some more onto his face he began to laugh. Laughing and crying as his brain felt his depths tickled from the rear, he cried, "It's lip cream tonight!" and then he grabbed the dribbling cock and licked it clean. He groaned as the tongue thrust up inside again and then he collapsed, losing all control of his legs, he couldn't stay positioned for the tongue to come again. As his brain swirled and spiraled through it's greatest pleasure zones, he squirmed around and found the other tongue with his and kissing and humming, both Paul and Brent collapsed into the dream their Cupid's Darts had finally shared.

Chapter Ten

Paul woke to the feeling of Brent's peaceful breathing underneath him. He listened with his ear pressed into Brent's chest and whispered, "Yes, I knew it was right. It still says it's happy." Realizing he was actually entwined in Brent's arms and legs he sighed with contentment. Feeling Brent's pubic hair in his fingers he began a slow and lazy twirling of them through the hair and on Brent's pelvis. Falling into the wonderful feelings of love, peace and safety, he began to hum a little tune to himself as the sun shone brightly through the window and burst into sparkling diamonds on his hair.

Brent felt the twirling fingers and heard the little tune and opened his eyes to the most gorgeous sight he could ever imagine. In fact, it was far beyond those sights he had been imagining for the last few weeks.

There in front of his eyes was his sparkling, breathing, happily humming boy. The sunshine was like fire off his head and as Brent's own chest rose and fell with his breathing, Paul's head moved with it and the sunlight glinted and refracted into a thousand diamonds. The tuneless humming was like the singing of a lark heralding the dawn of another love filled day. The twirling fingers were causing fire in his body and he could feel his manhood rising as the lazy circle touch communicated across the four or five inches between fingertips and stirring balls via the long route through his brain. He didn't know when he'd felt so peaceful, so happy, so content.

Paul found his fingers suddenly bumping into the newly rising pole just beneath them and with a little giggle he moved his fingers lower and began to rub the root and even beneath that to gently brush over and around the loosely hanging sac. As Brent's balls began to writhe their appreciation of the attention, the blood flowed stronger into the shaft above them and soon it was at full attention. Without moving his head Paul had been able to watch the first slow and then more urgent growing and now he giggled again as he watched the turgid rod bobbing and questing for a touch of his fingers. Listening with his ear, watching with his eyes and feeling with his fingers brought a realization to his mind that the pole was bobbing exactly in time with the heart beat, except when his fingers twirled slightly upward and the whole rod would strain forward like a puppy following the hand that had been scratching its ears.

He was fascinated by the sight before him: the purple head which had grown to seemingly twice its diameter in the last minute, the distance that it had traveled closer to his face as the pole it was on had stretched and lengthened, the pole itself which had been hardly bigger around than his thumb and was now much fatter, the wrinkled sac made of convoluted skin holding the balls which had reacted to his touch by drawing back into Brent's body lifting its precious eggs closer and more firmly into place, the balls within the sac which definitely had a life of their own. They were not exactly spinning, but they sure seemed to be swimming within some fluid in the sac. When he wasn't touching them they were squirming and moving on their own, questing for the fingers which had been giving them pleasure. He began to play and explore with his fingers like he had never even imagined with Charlie. First, he'd lightly brush across the balls to see them rise and lift their sac toward his touch. Then he'd draw one finger tip up the outer edge of the pole, following the triangle of flesh which seemed to stretch up and then mushroom out into the ridge around the head. He'd follow the ridge completely around the circumference of the head and then he really giggled. If Old Lady Guffey could see him now! Here he was playing with his new teacher's dick and running through his brain were words like diameter, length, convoluted, triangle and circumference and he'd even actually thought of the formula 2PIr. She'd never believe it! He could hardly believe it himself.

Brent could hardly contain himself as Paul twiddled with his balls and dick. Then as Paul began giggling he said, "Good Morning, Slugger. What's got you so giggly this morning?"

Grabbing the readily available handhold, Paul levered his head and shoulders up and around so he was facing Brent. "Good Morning," and then he dove in for a kiss. Coming up for air, he giggled again. "I was just doing a math problem and wondering where to write the answer," he beamed. "Seems like the circumference of the circle," and he gave a squeeze, "is dependent on how close my fingers are. Is that something we learn?"

"Hmmm," Brent answered thoughtfully. "That may be a theorem reserved for private tutoring lessons."

"Cool, I like private lessons, at least now I do, what's a theorem?"

Now it was Brent's turn to laugh and he hugged Paul into his body and said, "I think theorems are for junior high. Let's just stick to arithmetic, okay?"

"You mean like I'm stuck to you?" and Paul wiggled around showing that they were indeed stuck together where Paul's pelvis was against Brent's waist. "I think it's funny! I'm stuck to my teacher by 'Brent's glue!' Is this where 'Elmer's' glue comes from? They're both kind of white?"

"Oh God, first math and now zoology! What am I going to do with you?" and he hugged Paul close and tickled his ribs.

"Hey, no fair tickling!" Paul squirmed around effectively breaking the glue bond between them. "I was okay until you did that. Now I've got to pee, bad!" and he was out of bed and across the room to the adjoining bath in seconds.

Listening to the sudden release of Niagara Falls, Brent decided he'd better head that way too. Easing out of bed, he came up behind Paul and reached around to take over the aiming. "How about two hands on the bat, Slugger?"

"God, that feels so good. So she did tell, didn't she!"

"Only my Dad and he thought it was so funny with you standing there blushing that he called me at college that night to tell me. I promise never to tell anyone."

"Good, I guess we've probably got a few secrets now we won't ever tell anyone!" Paul said as he let go of his penis and let Brent aim the remaining stream and leaned back into the wonderful man behind him.

As Brent shook out the last drops, he hugged Paul back into himself and whispered, "Yes, we do. Now, I've got to pee too, but you can't help because I don't want to pee on the ceiling."

Paul giggled again and moved out of the way and Brent aimed himself and began his stream into the commode. Then as the stream was flowing, Paul reached over and placing his hand over Brent's he began to play the stream around the bowl in little circles. Giggling almost uncontrollably, he gasped, "Hey, silly rabbit. Tricks are for kids! Watch this!" and he began doing figure eights with the flowing pee.

As his stream stopped, Brent picked up Paul and stepping into the shower he got the water flowing, the temperature adjusted and the boy tickled all at the same time. The tickling stopped as Brent set Paul down and reaching for the shampoo he lathered his boy from head to toe. Paul was humming again as the lather and rubbing hands covered every inch of his body. Then he was directed under the water to rinse. He came sputtering out and then began to return the favor of the washing. As he reached Brent's balls and penis he gave them the same gentle treatment he had started earlier in bed. The water began to cool and Brent quickly rinsed and they both got out and dried each other.

As they finished, Brent tousled Paul's hair and asked, "What do you want to do today?"

"Have sex!" Paul brightly answered.

"Uh, I was thinking more like 'have breakfast!'" Brent laughed.

"Yeah, that's cool too. I'm starved!" Paul sang and hopped back into the bedroom.

The day was a swirl of hugs, jokes, Nintendo and snacks. Brent couldn't believe how often a twelve year old could eat. It seemed like every time he turned around, Paul was asking for chips or cookies or lunch! It seemed this was a part of Paul's life that his mother was very familiar with, because the pantry, cupboards and refrigerator always seemed to yield the requested item. Just after lunch the phone rang and it was Charlie wanting Paul to come over and play. Paul put the phone on hold and told Brent that he didn't want to go, but Brent convinced him that on a normal Saturday he'd have been gone already. If they were going to be successful in making Charlie think that this was a normal weekend and that Paul didn't have a "baby-sitter" then he'd better go. Besides, Brent had homework to grade so he needed some time alone!

"Homework! You have homework? But you're the teacher!" Paul cried.

"And who do you think checks all those papers? The magic elves?"

"Hey, you better not have any elves. I'm supposed to be your only one!" Paul declared seriously.

"Cross my heart!" Brent said. "You're my best and favorite elf!"

"Okay," Paul replied dubiously. Then running back to the phone he told Charlie, "Okay, had to find my mom. I'll be over in a few minutes!"

Chapter Eleven

Brent got most of the papers graded and was just pouring himself a glass of wine when the phone rang.


"Hi, Mom?" Paul's voice asked.

Laughing, Brent said in his deepest voice, "Yes, son?"

"Mom, Charlie wants me to stay for dinner. Is it okay?"

"Well, sure if you want to Paul."

"Please Mom? We've been playing GameCube and I'm winning."

"I said okay Paul."

"Oh, all right. No Charlie, I can't stay, we've got company coming and I have to go."

"You can stay if you want Paul."

"Okay Mom, I'll be home in a half hour. Love You!"

Brent scratched his head. This little guy sure knew how to get what he wanted and everyone thought it was their idea! He began to wonder about the whole idea of the Valentine Day trip and his volunteering to baby-sit. No, he'd offered because it was the right thing to do. Then what about the candles in the bedroom! No, this was not the way to think. Just be thankful for what he was given and don't try to over analyze, that was advice his father had given him in High School and it had proved very useful. "Use it now!" He told himself.

Paul came bursting into the house throwing his coat and snowpants off as he danced around the mud room, "I'm home!" he called.

"I would have never known by the sound of the herd of wild elephants!" Brent called back.

"Okay!" and Paul was racing through the kitchen into the family room where he threw himself into Brent's waiting lap. "Did you miss me?" he asked excitedly.

"Hmmmm, let's see now. I had three elves over helping to grade papers, Pinocchio stopped by later this afternoon and Old Lady Guffey stopped in to give me advice on how to handle you! No, I didn't miss you, didn't have any time!"

"Hey, what do you mean, THREE ELVES OVER! I thought I was the only one!"

"I said 'best and favorite' not 'only'," Brent teased.

"Well," Paul put on a perfect pouting face, "If you're going to have elves, then I've got to have, er, Hobbits! Or something."

"Nope!" Brent declared. "The only thing you get is TICKLED!" and they were rolling and tickling, laughing and giggling on the couch and then on the floor.

As Brent took pity on him, Paul was gasping for air so hard that Brent was first worried he'd gone to far. Then as Paul rolled directly on top of him and started grinding his rock hard boyhood into Brent's groin, he knew he'd maybe just started the fun. Paul was rocking and wiggling and driving his jeans covered dick against Brent and Brent was cupping his sweet buns and helping roll one erection against the other. Reaching out and stroking Paul's hair, he said, "Hum, that bat in your pocket sure feels like it wants to come out and play! But let's have some supper first, okay? How about you order some pizza delivered."

Not stopping his thrusting, Paul dreamily said, "Sure, pizza's great, can I have sausage and mushroom?" and then he dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Get it? Sausage and mushrooms?" and he wiggled his hips to emphasize the point.

"I get it! Or at least I'm planning on getting it!" groaned Brent.

"Cool!" Paul said and then rolled off and ran to the phone and ordered a giant sausage and mushroom pizza to be delivered.

Waiting for it to arrive, Brent kept Paul occupied with setting the table, hanging up his winter clothes and generally avoiding any unoccupied time where they might get distracted. When the doorbell finally rang, Brent gave Paul the money and sent him to pay reminding him to give the delivery person at least a two dollar tip. "Why do we tip him?" Paul asked. "Doesn't the pizza place pay him?"

"Well, yes they do, but most jobs like that for young kids don't pay very well and the tip is kind of in return for getting here quickly and doing a good job of keeping the pizza warm."

"Oh, okay." Paul scampered to the door. "Hey, Dad," he called back into the living room, "It's Steve Jenson delivering. I want a job like this when I grow up!"

Brent decided that this exchange was a little for show and he didn't really need to answer and sure enough, the door closed and Paul came carrying in a box nearly as large as he was. "Wow! Where'd you order that from? I've never seen anything so big."

"We always call Domenico's. They live here and everything, they've got the best pizza. Not cardboard like Dominos!" Paul advised. Plopping the box on the table he opened it and leaned in sniffing the trapped aroma. "Mmmmm, I love the smell of pizza. You know what's better though?"

"No," Brent ventured.

"Eating it!" and Paul pulled a giant slice on his plate and sat giggling as he tried to put almost all of it in his mouth at once.

"Old Lady Guffey told me you were a problem brat!" Brent laughed.

"Yeah," Paul managed to squeeze out between bites, "and Pinocchio came over to teach you how to fib!" and he dissolved again into giggles.

Between them they managed to eat half the pizza before they were groaning with full bellies. Putting the rest in the fridge and cleaning up they decided that they'd watch The Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring that Brent had brought.

"Way cool!" Paul had gushed. "I've only seen it once, but I loved it."

"Yeah, and you can see my Elf friends in Rivendell!" Brent teased.

"Well my Hobbit's 'll be there too!" harumphed Paul.

There was no more banter or horseplay as the story of Middle Earth played out on the screen. Paul was cuddled into Brent's side, but riveted to the screen, jumping and holding tight during the scary scenes, rooting for the good guys during the fights. He made a face at Brent and stuck out his tongue while all were in Rivendell and the elves were all about.

Brent was flabbergasted by the intensity of the movie on a good TV with a full surround sound system. The stunning subwoofer in the early battle scene seemed to drive completely into his bones. He found himself holding tight in the scary parts and the enjoying the beauty of the score.

Only once did they stop the movie. Paul was intensely watching Merry and Pippin as they broke in on the end of the Council and proclaimed they were going with Frodo unless they were tied up in a sack when suddenly he grabbed the remote and hit pause. "Do you think Merry and Pippin are, well, you know, friends?" he asked Brent with his eyes shining bright.

"Sure they are friends, they grew up together in the Shire."

"No, I mean like, well, like boyfriends?" Paul almost pleaded.

"Ahh, we'll never know that," Brent replied. "That's a private secret, known only to the friends and nobody else's business."

"Ummm, that's wonderful. Like us. A private secret, known only to the friends....." he cuddled further into Brent's chest and shoulder and he started the movie again.

When the movie was over, Paul was nodding and yawning and Brent lifted him and carried him to the bedroom. Placing him gently on the covers, he slowly began to undress him making soft caresses and quiet nothing noises. He started with the t shirt, lifting it deliberately off Paul's body in slow and loving motions. Paul was cooing and yawning all at the same time. Then Brent moved to the snap and zipper of Paul's jeans and his hands glided along the slender legs as he pulled them down. Returning to the valentine boxers which had been revealed beneath the jeans, he slipped them off as well. Gazing at the beautiful almost sleeping boy before him, he lifted the sheet and skimmed it up and over the vision. Bending down, he kissed the very real cheek and whispered. "Sleep tight little Slugger."

Just as he turned to leave the bed, Paul's hand shot out and grabbing him by the shirt front, he whispered back, "No you don't, get in bed right now!"

Smiling and laughing quietly, Brent answered, "Yes Master Elf. What ever you say sir!" and rising briefly to shuck his own clothes, he crawled in and cuddled up against his boy.

Somewhere in the middle of the night Brent woke to the insistent suckling of Paul's mouth against his dick. He was already hard as steel and groaned as he relished the sweet hot lips continuously hovering just against his skin as they regularly rose and backed away from the head of his shaft.

Paul heard him wake and used his tongue to flick against the mushroom head and tickle his lover full awake.

Brent moaned again in reply to the questing tongue and reaching down between his thighs he found Paul's head and lifting him off his straining cock, he locked the lips with his own and began a deep and passionate kiss. Tongue dueling with tongue, breath shared directly from one lung to the other, tastes driving deep against the other's taste buds, the two lovers exchanged their souls.

Then Paul was pulling away from Brent's mouth and between panting breaths said, "God, I love you. When you touched me with your tongue last night I thought my head would explode it was so nice. Will you do that again? Can I suck you and you can lick me?"

Groaning his assent, Brent reached for his boy's sides and helped him flip around so the boy's tongue was to his tip and his tongue was at the secret entrance to Paul's body. Both tongues touched together and it was like the power cord had just been plunged into the wall. The electricity flowed first in then out as he tasted the wonderful flavor of his boy and then felt the other velvet tongue lathe his rod. His own tongue seemed to lengthen and turn rigid as it tried to enter. Then seeming to solve the riddle of the gate, it slipped a little way inside. He felt the relaxing of the ring of muscle guarding the treasure store, then as he entered felt it contract again and seem to follow the movements of the other opening sliding up and down his spike. The two seemed to work together, first swallowing both invading friends, then gently, but forcefully pushing them into retreat.

Paul was bucking against Brent's face as the intensity of the hundreds of nerve endings demanding attention from his brain caused confusion in the muscles of his legs and thighs. He was a mass of quivering jelly suspended on the twin pegs in his mouth and ass. He moaned on the spike he held inside his lips and then as he in turn was spiked, he opened his mouth and cried out as his nuts tried to shoot themselves up and out his waving pipe.

Having been released from Paul's mouth, Brent's prong was waving itself frantically around when suddenly it was showered in the boiling juices from the boy's spraying cock. The fire of the sudden coating and the ecstatic cries of the shuddering boy were all it took to send Brent around the world again and his began to unload his sperm across the body of the boy hovering just above. Paul could feel the first shot hit his chest and like a newborn puppy searching for its mothers teat, his lips grasped around and found the pole in front of him and he eagerly, hungrily sucked it dry.

Both body's once again collapsed into a wet and sticky heap, with Paul continuing to suckle at the well of his man's spirit.

Chapter Twelve

They woke again to the bright sunshine streaming in the windows. Seemingly they awoke at the same instant because the first thing they realized was that they were each looking into the eyes of the other.

Giggling and prying themselves apart, they repeated the bathroom games of yesterday morning and cuddled their way through a breakfast of cold pizza. Brent had to convince Paul that cold pizza was the very bread of life, but with just one taste Paul was hooked. "Your mother's going to hate me!" Brent moaned.

"Hey, she doesn't have to know. I'll make Dad teach me next time we have pizza left!"

"God, I bet you will too. Does everyone do what you want?"

"Yes, but usually they think it's what they want!" Paul giggled.

Cleaning up the house, they put the bed linens from Paul's well used bed and the untouched guest room in the wash and then Brent made Paul settle down and start his homework. Brent used the other side of the kitchen table to finish grading his papers and the two worked steadily in silence, occasionally touching feet beneath the table.

Just as Paul was about to ask what was planned for lunch, they heard the garage door go up. Paul was up like a shot and standing in the mud room to great his parents with hugs and kisses. Before they could unbundle, Paul had organized that they all go out to lunch.

Brent and Paul suited up for the cold and they all went off to the other Italian restaurant in town. Over lunch Paul's parent gushed about their wonderful weekend. Paul went on and on about the Nintendo game he'd beaten Charlie at and how cool the Lord of the Rings was. Paul's mother kept hugging Paul and getting hugs in return and everyone in the restaurant was charmed by the love and happiness coming from their table.

Returning home, Paul's father took Brent and Paul aside as Brent gathered up his paperwork and bag to go. "I can't tell you how great this weekend was," he told Brent. "It was probably the best weekend away we've had since before Paul was born." Turning to Paul he hugged him close and said, "I don't mean anything bad, Paul, just that this was really nice and Fair Cupid seemed to be hard at work." Turning back to Brent, "I can see by how happy Paul is that you two had a great weekend too. You guys are both glowing so bright I think maybe our Fair Cupid was a very busy little fellow! Thanks for staying over. Thanks again for rescuing Paul and mostly thanks for being his friend in heart and mind and soul. No, I mean OUR friend. Welcome to our family."

Paul was beaming at the two most important men in his life as they all three hugged. YES! His father understood!

Fair Cupid waits at

Comments to