Date: Thu, 30 Sep 2004 16:37:15 +0000
From: Fun Tails <funtails@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Green"  (M/b)

           There was a sharp crack as the balls connected. John held his
breath for the quarter-second it took: the black ball, the eight on its
side spinning wildly, flew into the corner pocket.

           "There," John said. "I knew I could do it."

           Across from John, the boy could not hide his dismay. Four
striped balls still lay scattered on the green felt of the pool table -
more than half. Chucky had been humiliated.

           Even the sight of those delicate, dark eyes filled with
disappointment could not dim John's glee. "I clobbered you!" John dropped
his stick on the table. "Heeeaaa-aawww!"

           The man's yell brought things back into focus for the boy.
Chucky smiled and gave a gentle twist of his head - a slight, careful
movement that was uniquely his. He said, "I'm still ahead of you. Three
to two."

           "No way," said the man, playfully. "This one counts as two."

           "Yeah, right." The boy rolled his eyes. "Loser."

           The early evening crowd was filtering in to the White Pony
tavern and the boy had work to do (It was a family business. His dad and
older brother worked at the bar. Inez, his mother worked in the kitchen
with Mara, his fourteen year old sister.) The boy walked towards the bar.

           "Hey, Chucky," said John.

           "Yeah?" said the boy, turning.

           "Bring me a drink." Then John strode over to Freddie Nessom,
who had just walked in.

           *****************************************************

           Throughout the night, as John Pollock drank, laughed, talked
and played pool with his friends, he kept noticing Chucky. How could he
not? He noticed all good-looking boys and this boy was exceptional.
Chucky was shorter than his thirteen years should have made him and in
fact looked eleven. But as he scrambled among the patrons, carrying
platters of food and drink, cleaning tabletops and arranging chairs, he
possessed an air of supreme confidence.

           Mostly, John played pool. He had only re-discovered the game a
year earlier, but was now among the better players at the tavern.
Certainly, he won far more than he lost. Chucky wore shorts, as always -
his school uniform shorts actually, John realized - and a white vest.

           "That boy's got some nice legs," John thought to himself as he
aimed a banked shot at the five-ball. He missed and promptly went back to
admiring Chucky's legs.

           Chucky soon got himself into an argument with Rawl Pinderling,
about ice. Arguments in the White Pony were seldom serious. In the small
village of Drake's Cove, everyone knew everyone else. And everyone loved
Chucky. Not that Pinderling was letting Chucky off light.

           "Dammit, you little fly, I asked for ice ten minutes ago. Get
your head out your arse."

           "Your ice is coming," said Chucky with disdain. "Don't go
shitting your pants over it."

           "You little shite."

           But Chucky was long gone. John smiled. He knew that two hours
later Rawl would probably be giving advice to Chucky on his cover drive
(Rawl was the village's top cricketer. Chucky was its most promising).

           John lost his game.

           When he took his spectator's seat, the boy came over to him.

           "What's wrong with you tonight?" Chucky asked.

           "I'm distracted."

           "Thinking about Paul?" asked Chucky.

           "Wha-? No. Actually, I wasn't." The surprising thing was, that
he had not been thinking about Paul. John was hopelessly infatuated with
Paul. He took the boy on trips and outings as often as possible. It was
obvious that Paul was not interested in John as a lover but as a
father-figure, but John was too hung up on his gorgeous eleven-year-old
neighbor boy to care. Just spending time with him was intoxicating.

           John and Chucky watched the game in silence, John taking
sidelong glances at Chucky.

           What was it about the boy that was so fascinating tonight?

           John had always been struck by the Chucky's looks, but more in
the way one might admire a fine painting or automobile. His lust was for
Paul.

           Or was it?

           John had little use for places like the tavern. But when
Taylor Peters, the White Pony's owner - and Chucky's father - had
installed the seductive-green table, John had found more and more of his
after work evenings spent in the loud, freewheeling bar. And, more and
more, he preferred to play pool with Chucky.

           Paul could not play pool well. John often brought him to the
tavern on Saturday mornings, but the boy did not have it in him. And he
was a horrible student. He never followed John's instructions. Indeed, it
seemed like the boy was bent on showing that he did not have to do
anything John suggested.

           John never invited Chucky to join these games. Paul was an
insecure kid, and Chucky's skill would probably have made him feel
inferior.

           Chucky was made of stronger stuff. Sometimes John would
mention his plans to go out somewhere or to visit another town and Chucky
would ask, "Are you taking Paul with you?"

           John would say, "Maybe," but John could see in the boy's eyes
that he knew John was definitely going to take Paul along. He could also
see that Chucky wished it were he that was going instead.

           Not that John felt too guilty about it. After all, Chucky had
a father and an older brother that he got along well with. Paul, on the
other hand, had no father and his big brother bullied him all the time.

           Chucky spoke: "You need a shave." He brushed the back of his
hand along John's rough cheek and, in that instant, everything (A year's
worth of missed signals) became clear to John: Chucky was in love with
him. The tenderness and caring communicated unconsciously in that touch
could not be denied. But even more was the longing of the boy for him -
as if he had wanted to touch John like that since^Å forever. Everything in
the room froze for John that instant. Like fireworks, realization after
realization popped in his brain.

           Chucky had always been his friend - his buddy. They went out
and had good times together, at cricket or at the beach. They even
entered pairs' pool competitions together. And it was all fun.

           But the light touch of Chucky's hand had torn away the
blindfold: John loved Chucky too. More completely and truly than he had
ever loved anyone in his life. And he was in love with Chucky as well.
How could he have missed it?

           "Hey, Chucky," shouted Darren, Chucky's sixteen year old
brother. "They need their food over at Owen's table."

           Chucky watched John, puzzled. "You okay?"

           "Yes. I'm fine."

           "I havta go. I'll be back."

**************************************************************

           Later that night, after everyone else had left, John watched
Chucky turn out the lights and lock up. Soon, only the pool table was
visible in a roomful of shadows, its green surface seeming to shimmer
under the single light high overhead.

           "Mom and Dad are done for the night," said Chucky softly.
"We've got the table all to ourselves."

           "Is that why you asked me to stay?" asked John. "To play
midnight pool?"

           The boy picked up the cue ball absently and stretched
backwards like a lazy cat along the tabletop, his hand out, to spot the
ball.

           He said, "What else are we gonna do?" and sat up.

           John grabbed a cue. "Well rack them up, little boy."

           Chucky's usual retort would have been something along the
lines of, "A little boy who wallops you every time!" but instead the boy
gave him a downcast gaze and was silent for a while.

           "John, maybe it'd be better if we didn't bother. I mean -."
The boy's voice caught on a sob.

           There was a low, sharp sound behind the darkened bar, but John
ignored it, rushing over to Chucky. "I'm sorry Chucky. That's just
teasing, you know. Friendly bantering like."

           "But it's true!" said the boy. "I am just a kid to you. You
treat me alright and all, but you're never going to take me seriously."

           "But I do take you seriously."

           "Then why is it that you don't treat me the same way you treat
Paul?" asked Chucky.

           "Think about it, Chucky. Paul's even younger than you. If I
treat him different, it's not because I think he's more mature."

           "Because you love him then? Love him like a boyfriend, I
mean."

           John grabbed the boy and looked him in the face. The time for
hidden feelings had passed. "I love you, Chucky. I guess I only realized
tonight. I think you felt it when you touched me. I think that's why you
asked me to stay."

           "What about Paul? Don't you love him?"

           "Paul will always be my friend. But he's not like us. And he
can't make me feel the way you do."

           "What do-"

           But John had covered the boy's mouth with his own and kissed
him deep. Chucky's lips were wet and hot, trembling under his as he
pressed against them. Earlier, just one brush of the boy's hand had burnt
itself into John's mind. Now, holding the boy - his small, firm body
wrapped in the man's arms - set John's whole skin alight. This was his
boy. The boy he loved.

           When he was sure that all doubt has been chased from Chucky's
mind, John pulled back - just enough to break the kiss. Their noses still
rubbed gently together.

           "Are you sure your parents have gone to bed?"

           "They won't bother us."

           "Then lets get you out of these wet things," said John,
lifting Chucky's vest over his head.

           "What wet things?" asked Chucky. "I'm not-. Ohhhh. I get it."
The boy scrambled to unbuckle his belt, delightfully giggling.

           When he was sitting on the table in just his white underpants,
he said, "You need to get out of your wet things too, John."

           "Why don't you come over here and get them off me?"

           Chucky scooted over to the edge of the table. He kissed John
once and undid his trousers, belt and all. They dropped to the floor.
Eager little hands reached into John's briefs and held his manhood,
investigating.

           The boy said, "It feels really soft and hard at the same
time."

           John kicked his underwear off and climbed onto the table as
Chucky drew him forward by the cock. They kissed when their faces met,
John hovering over Chucky's small body. He tugged the boy's briefs down.

           The boy said with fake coyness, "You're taking advantage of
me."

           "Yes, I am." With the briefs gone, John caressed the boy's
sweet, smooth flanks.

           "You're forgetting one thing." The boy was actively helping
John 'take advantage' of himself, by pressing upward against him and
sweeping his fingers through John's hair.

           "What's that?" John lowered his head to Chucky's neck, licking
and kissing.

           "I know kung fu."

           "What?" asked John absently as he went for the boy's nipples.

           "Well, actually, I know judo." The hands in his hair tightened
and

John felt the boy's hips shift under him as he was flipped onto his back,
Chucky quickly straddling him.

           John said, "You got your money's worth from those lessons, I'd
warrant."

           "There's lots of dirty old men out there," said Chucky as he
undid John's tie, "ready to molest me. I have to be prepared."

           The boy took the tie as a trophy, opening the loop and making
a belt of it on his slender waist- the long bit of cloth hanging down on
his left side.  In John's imagination Chucky became a primitive love god
enacting a long-lost binding ritual. The boy ripped John's shirt open.

           "Hey!" said the man.

           Chucky squeezed John's nipples each between thumb and
forefinger then bent and licked them. John held Chucky's upturned butt
and pulled the boy's hips to his face until he slurped the boy's sturdy
little bone all the way to the root.

           "Oh John! That feels so good."

           As he sucked, John rubbed the boy's adorable globes,
fingertips electrified with sensation. The boy threw his head back and
moaned, hands gripping John's hair. Watching from below, John savored the
view of his love.  He lived to pleasure his boy-god. The man used his
tongue with skill to stimulate the boy, sliding and slipping it all
around the thin shaft.

           When the boy began to hump his face, John held his own
painfully hard cock and scooped up some of its abundant leakage in his
hand. This he painted the boy's rosebud opening with, venturing a
fingertip inside circuitously before bringing fresh pre-cum back for a
repeat application.

           "John," said Chucky, "I want you to fuck me now. Please."

           John let go the boydick and said, "Okay, drop back a butt- I
mean a bit."

           Chucky laughed at his slip-up. The boy pressed his smooth ass
against John's upright shaft, bending it awkwardly and then sliding along
it. That delightful furrow along the top of his shaft made the man gasp.
John put one hand behind his boy's head and pulled the boy's lips to
chest. As Chucky kissed his skin, tongue tasting the man, John prepared
Chucky's opening with one and then two and finally three fingers.  Each
progressive step brought a quick stiffening arch of spine from the boy
and then a slow acceptance and relaxation.  John panted in anticipation
of the upcoming rite of passage. Rite of penetration. Rite of love.

           "I think you're ready," said John. "Take your time."

           The boy gripped John under the shoulders and resting his head
on the man's chest raised his rump. John pointed his cock to the boy and
stroked Chucky's hair. With a bit of bumping and missing the man's
dickhead found it's home-to-be.

           John held it in place while the boy pushed back on it. With
the slick juices there, the ring easily let the first bit in.

           "Ohhh, Wow!" said Chucky.

           John smiled. "Try some more." Despite the lifetime of

anticipation, John did not rush.  For his boy, everything had to be done
right.

           In stutter steps, to accommodate the inevitable pain, Chucky
impaled himself on John, finally nestling into place at the base. Every
little move into the boy's tightness filled John with a sense of
completeness. The heat and gripping walls tortured his cock with
pleasure.

           The boy said, "You feel so big in there."

           "And you feel heavenly."

           In a few minutes, Chucky began to gyrate his hips in slow
time, his hard boydick rubbing against John's stomach. The little bit of
motion thrilled the man as the boy slid a little each way along him. The
boy must have felt good too, because he quickened the pace.

           In search of greater movement, the boy sat up, kneeling as he
fucked himself on John's throbbing shaft. The man held the boy by the
waist, keeping him from flying off in his excitement. The tie flapped
around like a happy little puppy.

           Satisfied that Chucky was well adjusted and could take it,
John started his own thrusting into the boy above him. Each one timed to
hit the boy on his down stroke, the man gained new depths in the boy's
squeezing back channel. This was more than sex. This was consummation.

           The touch of the green felt on his ass burned each time John
pulled back. The hardness of the table punished his shoulders. He did not
care, focused only on the sweet pleasure of the Chucky's firm ass and the
sweeter face of the boy whose eyes were closed in enjoyment. There was no
other meaning to his life now but himself and Chucky. Together. Always.

           Orgasm took them both. When Chucky stiffened, his ass clenched
John's cock tighter, overloading the nerve ends and the man groaned his
lust as he emptied into his boy.  His tightened his grip on Chucky's
sides, the silky skin red hot against his palms.

           Wet splatters against John's cheek gave testament to the force
of the boy's climax as Chucky rode himself ragged.

           "Oh God, John, I love you!" said Chucky plopping down on the
man's chest, the act giving a last spark of pleasure to John's softening
dick-- still in him.

           "I love you, too."

           A sigh of pleasure came from the dark--the same spot he had
heard the noise earlier.

           "Chucky!" John whispered.

           "Don't worry, it's just mom."

           "Your mom! She's here?"

           "Yeah. She and the others wanted to watch."

           "Others?!"

           From the gloom, Taylor Peters, his wife, daughter and oldest
son, walked towards them. Under the exhausted boy, John lay trapped.

           "We're so glad you two finally got together," said Taylor.

           "Chucky's been pining for you all year," added the boy's
mother.

           John could think of nothing to say, lying on a pool table with
a freshly fucked boy still on his dick while that boy's parents applauded
him.

           When he looked over, it struck John as odd that Darren had a
possessive arm around his mother, while Taylor was openly fondling his
daughter's breasts.

           Taylor said, "As you can see, the rest of the family has
pretty much sorted itself out in the romance department. Chucky was the
odd man out all these years."

           "Yeah, because he's a queerboy!" said Darren.

           "Stop that, Darren," said Inez.

           Taylor continued, "We wondered how he'd sort it out."

           "Hey," said Darren, enjoying John's speechless discomfort,
"welcome to the family, John."

           "Um, thanks."

           Inez walked over to the side of the table and stroked her
son's back protectively.

           "How was it, son?"

           "Incredible, mom," said the boy in a dreamy voice.

           She said to John, "I'm sorry we spied on the two of you, but
we wanted to make sure things turned out right."

           Inez reached a finger out and wiped wetness from under John's
eyes. "You cried when you climaxed with my son. I've heard that doing so
is a sign of true love."

           John was embarrassed to realize he had sprung tears as he
orgasmed.

           He said, "Maybe that's just from when I thought Taylor was
going to cut my balls off for what I'd done to his son."

           Inez, looked at him puzzled. "You have a strange sense of
humor Mr. Pollock, but my son thinks it is the best. He loves you and
there is no denying you love him too."

           Inez left and walked over to a nearby cupboard. Taylor walked
over and held his son's and John's hands.

           He said, "I'm proud of you both." Then Chucky's father turned
away teary-eyed.

           Darren punched his brother on the shoulder saying, "So you
finally got laid, huh twerp?"

           "Leave him alone, you ass," said Mara, pushing Darren out of
the way. She kissed John and then Chucky. "I'm so happy for you both,"
she said.

           Inez returned with bed linens and covered the new couple with
them.

           "We'll leave you two alone now."

           The four went out the back door, father with daughter and
mother with son.

           The entire experience had been surprisingly stimulating for
John and his cock was raging hard in his boy's chute. The man rolled over
on top of Chucky, the sheet still covering them.

           John said, "You've got a really weird family, you know."

           "So do you, now," said the boy as he kissed the man and pulled
the big cock into himself.

				  THE END

Comments welcome. Even if you're reading this in an archive 10 years from
now, it's always nice to hear from you.

-Funtails@hotmail.com,  Oct 2004