Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2023 15:56:05 +0000 (UTC)
From: UJ
Subject: Fast Food Boy

Fast Food Boy

It's not often that what I consider the "ideal boy" ever shows up in
real life.  Yeah, I've encountered them in my past, and their slender
young forms are tragically locked in my brain, so that I cannot forget
them.  But now another is added to that list.  And this one is not a mere
fantasy!

After driving some friends home today, I was feeling some hunger hit my
stomach.  I live in Atlanta, and, like every sizable town, there's a
plethora of fast-food joints.  But one of my favorites is The Varsity
downtown.  Not because the fare is good or cheap, but because it's a
favorite of tourists.  And because it's a sports-themed spot close to
Georgia Tech's campus, parents often bring their adolescent children
there to revel in the glory of one team beating the snot out of another
team.

As I stood at the counter to buy my greasy cheeseburger and onion rings,
I couldn't help noting there was a spry young lad in the line next to
me.  Of course, he was with an adult who I'm guessing was his mother,
together with a somewhat younger brother and an annoying little sister.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.  Aside from being toothpick skinny, he
had a pile of dark curls atop his youthful head nearly covering his ears,
but no evidence of hair anywhere else on his frame.  Not on his long,
tasty legs nor on his frail spidery arms, nor, I imagined, anywhere else.

The family got their food and retreated to a table in a room adjacent to
the serving area.  The restaurant is a big place with several dining
areas.  Luckily, when my food was ready, I went to the same area, and
behold, a table opened up for me diagonally visible to my young prince.
As he ate his cheeseburger and sipped his soda, wrapping his tender lips
around a rigid straw to suck the sweet beverage into his hot wet mouth, I
was able to assess his age.  To me, he looked around age 12, and on the
young side of that.  My suspicion had me believing he would be entering
7th grade when summer ended.  But I could be wrong.  Maybe he was only 11
and going into 6th grade.

Anyway, I ate, and he ate, and I presume the rest of his family ate too.
But neither they nor anyone else was in my focus.  I only had eyes for my
sweet prince.  I dreamed of sucking his creamy white milkshake through
his hairless straw, tasting how both sweet and salty would be his prize.

He briefly glanced my way a few times.  I quickly diverted my stare, so
he wouldn't guess how enthralled with him I was.  But as they were
finishing their food, the mom got up from the booth, as did the two
younger children.  They were apparently going back for more.  Only the
boy and I were left, no one else mattered.

When seated alone, to my utter amazement, the kid rotated a bit in his
seat.  His legs spread enough for me to see up the pant leg of his baggy
but very short shorts.  I could see where his tan line stopped and the
whiteness of his milky unexposed skin.  I was so captured I didn't even
notice that the boy was looking directly at me staring at his crotch.
That is, until he used a couple of his bony fingers to adjust it.
Immediately I looked away.  But not for long.  I couldn't help myself.

The boy was erect, his cock was brick hard and leaking precum.  No, that
was my imagination.  What was real was that I could see the outline of
his prick pushing out his shorts.  At this point I knew that he knew I
was in serious lust for his young pole.  I glanced at his face and
detected a tempting smirk.

Just then, the family returned, and my new boyfriend accepted his soft
serve cone.  Again, his lips sucked the creamy goodness down his hot
skinny throat.  Then, a few moments later, without eating all of it, he
put it down and slipped out of his seat.  I had long ago finished my food
and was nursing my soda only as an excuse to keep my bird's eye view.  I
quickly exited, deposited my trash, and went to the restaurant's only
bathroom.

My hope was that junior would be standing at a urinal and I could stand
beside him.  The Varsity chose not to put partitions between the urinals,
to my delight.  Maybe he'd let me sneak a peek at his pole.  But to my
utter surprise, he was at the sink washing his hands.  When I came in and
he saw me in the mirror he left the sink and beelined it for one of the
two toilet stalls, the one with walls on either side.  The one you only
know is occupied because of the closed door.  After entering he left it
ajar.  I didn't know what to do!  It's been many years since I accosted
a lad and had no desire to be caught fulfilling a fantasy,

I was about to spin on my heals and leave when I heard a raspy unchanged
voice say, "You comin' in?"  Those were the only words I heard from
him.  Even with perhaps a hundred people in the restaurant, the boy and I
were the only two in the bathroom, for the moment.  In an instant of
sheer terror, I pushed open the door and entered the already occupied
stall.

The kid stood against the left wall.  I took my place on the throne.
Just a moment later he pushed his shorts to his knees exposing the
loveliest, hardest 4-incher I had ever encountered.  Yes, it was
hairless.  But nothing had ever smelled so sweet.  His balls were in a
crinkled little pouch hanging down, but not far.  He was cut.  I could
see the pink ring where his foreskin had once been attached.  But other
than that tiny bit of discoloration his penis was of uniform
circumference and shade.  Even the head of his fully erect prick was
white as snow.  I wondered how many times his cum had escaped the slit at
the tip.  And how many of those were by his own hand, or by the lips of
someone like me.

As though I were in the habit of sucking preteen cock, my lips soon
opened and in he went.  I don't know now whether it was me engulfing
him, or whether he slid himself into my mouth.  It doesn't really
matter.  My tongue slurped its way around his hotdog diameter rod.  My
head moved back and forth to give the illusion of fucking, though I was
confident the boy had never fucked pussy.  But then I thought of this
dick sliding in and out of his dear little sister, or maybe an orifice of
his younger brother.  But most likely it was the mouth of a teacher or
coach or some other mentor.

Another person came into the restroom to pee.  But we didn't stop.  The
underage sex assault was silent.  Whoever it was had no clue I was about
to bring a preadolescent to orgasm only a couple feet away.  But then,
after too brief a time, maybe only a couple minutes, the boy's hands
gripped the top of my head.  And only a millisecond later I felt a jet of
hot juice spurt onto my taste buds.  And then another, and a third.  They
were not thick by any means, and there wasn't a lot, nor was it
especially tasty.  But it was definitely cum.  Preteen cum.  Hot horny
preteen cum.  And now it was in my mouth being savored by my old man
tongue.

With barely enough time for the boy to breathe after his sexual release,
his shorts were pulled up, the door latch was opened, and he was gone.  I
sat there for a moment to absorb what had just happened, but not too
long.  I got myself off the toilet, wiped my mouth, and walked briskly to
my car.  I drove away wondering who assaulted who.  But I knew what the
answer would be if I were ever caught.