Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2005 09:35:10 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Golddigger

				GOLDDIGGER
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     Daddy was reading the newspaper when I came into the living
room. "Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?" I asked him, not giving him time to answer me.
     "Yes, Son?" Daddy said when I stopped for breath.
     "Daddy, what's a golddigger?"
     "Where'd you hear that?" Daddy asked me instead of answering.
     "At the pageant." I said. Mom was helping out at the "Little Miss
Oakville Pageant," a beauty pageant for little girls my town held every
June, and had dragged me along while she was working on the show that
day. "All the little girls were up on stage and I heard Mr. Nesbitt say
that one girl looked like a golddigger. What's a golddigger?"
     "Little pitchers have big ears." Dad sighed. He said that a lot, and I
knew he meant I'd heard something he wished I hadn't heard. At the age of
eight years old, I was pretty precocious, and Daddy believed in telling me
the truth in all things. It's why I went with him with my every
question. "Well, you remember that I told you about sex, right?"
     "Yeah." I didn't see where he was going but I'd learned about sex the
year before, when Daddy had caught me and Saul Epstein playing with each
other in bed one night.
     "And about how some women will give a man sex in exchange for money,
right?"
     "Yeah." Daddy had explained that when I'd heard the word "whore." That
was from a movie I had walked in on he and Mom had been watching on a
late-night television show.
     "Well, a golddigger is kind of like one of those women." Daddy said.
     "They take money for sex?" I said, nodding my head.
     Daddy was brave enough to shake his head. "Not entirely." he said. "A
golddigger is a woman who is nice to a man with money and she will have sex
with him, but she doesn't charge for that. She just sort of strings the guy
along, teasing him with her body, tells him how nice it would be to have
something she wants and how grateful she would be and what she'll do if
he'll get it for her, and the guy wants to keep her happy, so he buys it
for her."
     "Really?" I said, thinking about this. "Are golddiggers only women?" I
asked.
     "I guess there are some men who you could call golddiggers." Dad
agreed. "Haven't met one, though. Men who do that with women are called
gigolos though, not golddiggers."
     "Okay, Daddy." I thought of something he'd said about the whores. "Is
a golddigger breaking the law or something?"
     "Uh? No, not really, I guess. I guess if a guy knows what a golddigger
is and stays with her, that should be his decision. Any more questions
you've got I'd rather not answer?"
     "No, Daddy." I grinned and he smiled and rumpled my hair and as I
left, he said what he always said when I left.
     "That kid picks up the darnedest things! Why can't he ever ask his
mother?"
     Because she always told me to go ask Daddy!
     Anyway, I had enough. I knew now what a golddigger was. All I had to
do was find a guy to be nice to and do with him like me and Saul had done
that time, and he'd buy me things. Like a new bicycle! Daddy had said he'd
buy me a bike this Christmas, but that was way up next December, and then
there'd be snow on the ground so I couldn't ride it much. I wanted my bike
now! Dad said in that case, I'd better find a job like delivering
newspapers this summer. But the paper didn't want to hire kids my age and
even if they had, they didn't pay very much.
     All I needed now was the guy. And I knew just who. Little pitchers
have big ears.
     Mr. Sachs lived in the house behind ours, our back yards bordered on
the same alley. My bedroom was on that side of the house, and one night not
too long ago, I had heard him and his wife having an argument. One that
ended with her moving out and going back to her mother.
     So he was living alone now. I checked with Mom, another hour until
dinnertime, and then went over to talk with Mr. Sachs. He had a pretty high
wall around his back yard, but he had a gate back there he didn't lock, so
I could get inside easy enough and figured to walk around front from there,
but I didn't have to.
     Mr. Sachs was in the back yard, sleeping on a lounge chair on his
patio, wearing only a pair of baggy swimtrunks. He was younger than my
Daddy, but not by too much. And he had more hair on his chest than my
Daddy, that was sure! He worked at some place downtown, I didn't know just
what, but it had to be hard work, for he had muscles much bigger than my
college-professor Daddy!
     He was sleeping, so I walked over to him without saying anything and
looked at him. Asleep, his face was all soft and friendly-looking. His
chest was all sweaty from the sun-block he had rubbed on himself, and it
made his chest and stomach look all kind of bumpy and soft, like a bunch of
balls inside a sack. Only he looked softer than that. I had only touched
Saul and a couple of other guys my own age before (my Daddy hadn't freaked
out about me and Saul playing with each other, just that I shouldn't tell
Mom about it), and their bodies had been like mine, all smooth, no bulges
at all. Did a man with big muscles feel harder than a boy like Saul? Or was
he soft?
     Well, only one way to find out. I reached down and touched him,
carefully at first, then again, harder, when he didn't wake up. I wasn't
poking at him, I was running my hand over his chest and I just pressed down
harder the second time. No, he wasn't hard under there, he was as soft as a
foam pillow. Only warmer. Part of it was the sunshine he'd been under, but
some of it was him. Nice and warm.
     Mr. Sachs moaned quietly and I realized he was waking up. Well, I
wanted him to take me as his golddigger, I figured I'd better get right to
it. He was wearing a pair of old swim-trunks, and he hadn't tied the waist
together, so my hand went inside them easy enough. I had hold of his peter
before he woke up, and I was playing with it before he could get out his
first words, "Shaun? Shaun, is that...what are you doing?"
     "Playing with your peter." I said needlessly. I thought he'd figure it
out quicker than that. "You like this, don't you?"
     His hand caught hold of my wrist and stopped my hand from moving, but
he didn't pull me away and I didn't let go of him. "Do you know what you're
doing, Shaun?" he asked me, disbelieving.
     "Yeah." I said. "I'm being a golddigger."
     "Golddigger?"
     "I asked Daddy about it." I said. "He said a golddigger is when you're
nice to some guy and have sex with him, and he buys nice things for you in
return." His hand had relaxed his grip on my hand and I started pumping on
him again. "I heard you and Mrs. Sachs last week before she left, and she
was saying you wanted to have sex with little boys instead of her. So I
figured you'd like to have me as your golddigger. Would you like that,
Mr. Sachs?"
     He looked at me, dumbfounded, and said, "Is that what you're doing for
me?"
     "Uh-huh." I said. "If you want me to. Do you want me to?"
     He didn't answer that in words, he just sort of moaned and his peter
got as hard as it could be. I took that for my answer and I said,
"Good. Then we got a deal, don't we?"
     "Uhhhhh!" he moaned again, only louder.
     "Let me get these trunks off of you." I judged. "That way I can play
with it easier, okay?"
     "Okay." Mr. Sachs sighed.
     I eased down his trunks and he helped kick them off of himself when I
got them below his knee. I started to play with him again and his hand came
over and tugged at my shorts. Then at my t-shirt. "Take them off." he said
hoarsely.
     "Okay." I said. "You want me to take everything off?"
     "Yeah." his voice was husky, deep, sort of...vibrating. More like
"ye-e-e-a-a-a-a-ah!"
     So I let go of him and sat on the lounge chair next to him and took
off my shoes and socks. He watched me do this, avidly and I grinned as I
finished and stood up. I skinned out of my t-shirt and I could feel his
eyes dancing over my body. So I stopped and asked, "Am I young enough of a
boy for you, Mr. Sachs? I'm eight years old now. Do you want to have sex
with me?"
     "Oh, God, I must be dreaming!" Mr. Sachs moaned. "Yeah, Shaun, I want
to have sex with you, baby. God, yeah, I want to have sex with you. Hurry
up before I explode."
     So I smiled, figuring I had played enough of a golddigger for him for
now, and I shucked down my shorts and briefs together, stepped out of them,
displayed my body for him again. "You like this?" I was only a couple of
feet away from him with that step out of my shorts.
     Mr. Sachs reached up and his fingers took hold of my dick, and he
began to fiddle with it, sort of, his eager fingers fumbled and then he
figured out how to hold it right and he began to work my little dong for
me. I moaned for him, and it did feel good and I stepped closer to him.
     His mouth came up and he sucked my peter into his mouth. This
surprised me. It felt good, really, really good, though, and I just let him
suck on me, his lips moving back and forth just like his fingers, only much
softer. "That feels good!" I said sincerely when he stopped for a time.
     "How about doing that for me, now?" Mr. Sachs asked.
     This was new to me. "Is this a part of sex?" I asked him.
     "It certainly is!" He said with a conviction I couldn't argue
with. "I've been dreaming of what it'd be like to have a little boy's mouth
wrapped around my cock, sucking on it. Make my dream come true, Shaun!
Please!"
     "I'm your golddigger." I said and I got onto my knees and took hold of
his dick. "I haven't done this before, though. You'll have to show me how."
     "Just get it in your mouth, first." Mr. Sachs advised.
     I did and it felt kind of spongy. Tasted funny, too, kind of greasy
but not in a nasty way, sort the way a piece of fried chicken when it first
sits on your tongue, before you chew on it and all you taste is the oil it
was fried in. Heavy...but nice.
     Mr. Sachs' hand caught my head and he said, "Now, Shaun, you need to
keep your lips tight at all times, keep your teeth back from it and get my
dick all nice and wet. While you do that, let me move your head up and down
for you."
     He didn't wait for me to say anything (how could I, I had a mouthful
of his dick!) and moved my head back and forth, tentative at first, and
when I didn't gag or choke (I never did gag the way most people did just
because something is in their throat, like when I had to swallow a pill,
could just throw it to the back of my mouth and swallow it whole),
Mr. Sachs began to move me faster and he groaned again. I had his thick,
hard dong moving in and out of my mouth and hitting the back of my throat,
and again, it didn't bother me the way it would some kids. I worked up some
spit which made it go even deeper and easier for me.
     But Mr. Sachs loved it! He was moaning and mumbling about "hot little
boy mouth" and "sweet little baby's tongue" and his hand let go and I
hesitated, then began to work his cock myself. But my mouth was getting
tired and I had to let go after a time and I did, and he let out a long,
shuddering sigh. "Oh, baby, oh, baby, oh, baby!" he said, only he kept it
up for a while. Then he opened his eyes, his mouth open, his chest heaving,
and he said, "Why did you stop sucking me, baby?"
     "My mouth is tired." I complained. "Can't I just use my hand on you?"
     His chest wasn't slowing down. "Baby, baby, let me fuck you now, okay?
Can I fuck your sweet little boy butt?"
     I was doubtful about this. "What's fuck?"
     "Fucking is when I stick my dick into your butt like I did into your
mouth." Mr. Sachs panted at me. "You can do it for me, can't you? I'd be so
grateful if you let me do it, just once, to see what it's like, baby,
please."
     Grateful. Yeah, grateful! My bike! "You'd be willing to show me how
grateful you are, Mr. Sachs?" I asked him cunningly.
     "Yeah, baby, anything, just let me do it, anything."
     "You'd buy me a bike?" I asked him.
     "A bike?" He looked bewildered.
     "Yeah." I said, and I tried to be "enticing" for him. "If you buy me a
bike, I'll be real grateful to you."
     He looked dazed, then said, "Okay, Shaun, you let me fuck you and that
bike is all yours."
     "Okay." I said. "So how do you do it?"
     "Get up straddle of me." He advised. "And then you'll just sit down on
it. God, to have a boy sit on my cock. I must be dreaming, this can't be
real! Shit, I've been dreaming about you, Shaun! I got a copy of that video
of your birthday party, you were at a swimming pool, running around with
just your swimtrunks on, and I was jerking off to that, and my wife came in
and caught me at it. I was thinking of fucking you then. A bicycle is a
small price to pay to get you for real, baby!"
     "It isn't for payment." I demurred, thinking about what a whore
was. "You're doing it because you like me. And I'm doing this because I
like you. That's what a golddigger does, isn't it?"
     "Yeah, baby, that's right." Mr. Sachs said soothingly. "Come on, get
up on me and sit on it, now, right now, God, yeah!"
     So I did and Mr. Sachs helped me guide it. I gasped as that huge thing
touched my butt.
     "Oh, I can't do it!" I said. "It's too big!"
     "It'll be okay!" Mr. Sachs urged me. "Just take it slowly, that's why
I want you on top, so you can sit down on it easy, a little at a time. Come
on, baby, for your bicycle, sit down on it."
     So I pushed down on it. It felt like it was splitting my butt open,
but Mr. Sachs moaned as I did. "Oh, yeah, you're sitting on my cock, baby!
Get used to it, and then sit down more, baby, come on, keep at it, you have
to get the entire head inside and it'll be easier then."
     So I pushed and it was like stuffing a tennis ball up my ass! So big,
so big! But my bike, if I wanted the bike, I had to do this! I had to! No
bike all summer, not until Christmas, that was too long! If I wanted my
bike, I had to do this!
     And so I pushed down again and this time the head popped inside me, I
could feel it stretch out my asshole, and then it clamped down around it
underneath that flare. "Ooh, that's big!" I breathed out.
     "You got it inside you now, baby." Mr. Sachs crooned. "Now, we work it
down a little at a time, okay? Keep on moving, much as you can."
     I did, a little by little bit and when I got it halfway down or so, (I
wasn't touching his balls, so I knew there was more), Mr. Sachs stopped
me. "Okay, baby, that's far enough." He said. "Now, get used to it, and
then we'll start the fucking. Just like riding a bicycle, you move and it
all falls into place for you."
     That made me feel better, and he was right, when I began to move, it
felt right. Better, it felt great, I loved having this cock inside me now I
was used to it. I was moving on top of him, and the feeling of his cock in
my butt was just so good, and when he grabbed hold of my little dick with
his thumb and forefinger and began to twiddle it back and forth, I was
groaning and threw my little-boy climax in no time.
     And the sight of me, gasping and panting on top of him, was all
Mr. Sachs needed to finish himself. He gave out a loud roar and then my ass
was filled with hot, salty, stinging man-jizz, my first experience, and I
didn't know what it was at first. But I had to do this to get my bicycle,
and I could see that Mr. Sachs was having his own orgasm, and so I let him
shoot whatever it was up inside of me, and would figure it out later. Maybe
ask Daddy what the stuff was. I could ask my Daddy about anything.
     "Oh, baby, you sweet boy, your fucking ass was so hot, you sweet
little boy, oh, God, I fucked a little boy, oh, God, oh, God!" Mr. Sachs
was panting. "I fucked little Shaun Traynor, I fucked his sweet little ass,
oh, God!"
     "You sure did." I agreed. It felt good to see him so happy. "And you
can do it again if I can be your golddigger. Would you like that,
Mr. Sachs?"
     "Oh, yeah, baby!" Mr. Sachs agreed.
     "Then you'll buy me that bicycle?" I pressed him.
     "Sure, Shaun, sure." Mr. Sachs said. "Which bike do you want, just
tell me which one and I'll go buy it for you."
     I hadn't thought of this. Which bike did I want? Waiting for my
parents to buy it, I couldn't think about which one, they would shop around
and pick one for me. But with Mr. Sachs, I got to choose. "Gee, I don't
know." I said as I pulled my pants and shirt back on. "I'll have to think
about it."
     "Okay, baby." Mr. Sachs said. "You come back tomorrow and we'll talk
about it some more. If you're my little golddigger, you have to come by
every day for more fun with me."
     "Yeah." I agreed. "But I'd better get home, now. Mom will have dinner
for me."
     "See you tomorrow, Shaun." Mr. Sachs said.
     And carrying socks and shoes in my hand, I scampered back across the
alley to my home. I looked back and Mr. Sachs was lying back on the lounge
chair again, this time with a big smile on his face, at peace with the
world.
     I was going to like being a golddigger!

				  THE END
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