Date: Thu, 3 Apr 2008 16:24:39 -0500
From: Charles Hughes <the.empty.room@hotmail.com>
Subject: HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 5  (M/b oral anal)

This story is fiction, depicting the relationship of a man and a young boy,
including their sexual relationship.  If you are not 18 years of age, or if
it is illegal for any reason for you to read such material, you are to
leave.

Copyright 2008 Charles Hughes, all rights reserved

I will try to answer all emails: the.empty.room@hotmail.com



HE LOVED HIS TEACHER - Part 4  (M/b oral anal)


Dear Chuck:

I don't really remember how many times Dillon and I were together.
Sometimes he would show up at my back door a couple of days in a row, and
sometimes a week or more would go by before he came again.  Sometimes I
would stand at my kitchen window and look at that spot in the hedge through
which he would appear and disappear, and I would yearn for him.  More than
once I stood there and jacked off thinking of him.

You must understand, though, that in the classroom there was no difference
at all in our relationship.  Well, I should qualify that by saying the
relationship of teacher/student deepened as he continued to be one of my
star performers.  He always had a little more difficulty in spelling than I
liked to see in a third grader, but in almost everything else he excelled.
I've often wondered how he did in high school and, presumably, college.  In
the classroom, we were teacher and student, and that was it.  But if and
when the other kids called him the "teacher's pet," they had absolutely no
idea just how precisely correct they were!

I asked him about college once.  That was the wrong thing to do, since
third graders have no concept of what college is and what it's for.  So I
asked him if he'd ever though of what he wanted to do when he grew up.  His
answer brought tears to me eyes.  He said, "A teacher.  Just like you."

We were lying in my bed one afternoon, naked, of course.  He'd always liked
exploring my body -- and I liked it, too.  By this time he'd touched and
tasted almost everything I had!  He loved to suck on my nipples.  I would
sit holding him on my lap, and he would suck as though he were a baby.  On
one of those occasions, he called me "daddy."  He caught himself, but he
didn't say anything.  I didn't, either.

On this occasion, however, Dillon demonstrated some of the initiative which
I'd been seeing in him.  The one part of me he hadn't tasted was the part
that now intrigued him.  I always keep myself clean, and I'm doubly careful
to do that when Dillon is around.

In fact, one time when we were showering I showed him how to clean his
hole.  He copied everything I did to myself, and then he giggled, saying
that keeping clean is fun!  Well, I admit that I used my finger on him
quite a lot in that shower.  He was enjoying too much to deny him his
pleasure!  Of course, I loved washing him, anyway.  I'd spend a lot of time
on his lovely dicklet.  I had begun to adopt his word for it; it seemed to
please him to hear me talk about his peter.

He was playing with my ass as I lay on my stomach, stroking the little
hairs that grow there.  His little hand felt wonderful.  My cock hardened
against the bed when I realized his fingers were going where they had never
been before.  He slid them into my crack.  I didn't say anything.  I just
lay there and let him explore as he wished.

I felt him open my cheeks with his hands, and then I felt his finger on my
asshole.  He moved his finger around it and then over it.  When I felt his
breath, I wondered if he might be thinking of more than a finger there.
Dared I hope?

And then he licked me.  I moaned at the touch of his cheeks on the sides of
my crack and that tiny, wet tongue on my asshole.  The sound encouraged
him, and he licked me more slowly and carefully.  He must have been paying
attention, for he copied everything I did when I ate his boybutt!

I relaxed for him as I felt him press his tiny tongue against my sphincter.
There were goosebumps on my skin as I realized my boylover was going to eat
me.  He opened my hole a bit with his tongue and licked around, just inside
my ring.  I knew he wouldn't be able to get it much farther in -- his
tongue was just too small -- but I felt as though I were being eaten by
snake a foot long!

He raised up for a moment.  "It isn't... I mean, I like the way you taste,
Mr. Richie.  It's not, like, you know.  I smell you, too.  And it's good!"

And he went back to eating me.  Oh, such delight!  Knowing that my sweet
boylover was feasting on my hole!  His wet slobber and his squirming tongue
made my cock throb.

"Can I fuck you?"

I had wondered if he'd been thinking about that.

"Honey, I don't really know if your peter is long enough."

"Can I try?"

I chuckled.  "Of course, Dillon."

And he tried.  It was very sexy for me, but it was rather frustrating for
Dillon.  His little two inches just weren't enough!  I could feel his hot
little dickhead at my hole, but he just couldn't get it to "grow" long
enough to get in!  His sweet little peter just couldn't reach in there.

Finally, I rolled over and sat him on my belly.  "Here, honey.  You can
fuck me here."  And I opened my mouth.

He giggled sweetly.  "That's a suck, not a fuck!"

"Not when I hold my mouth still.  I won't suck you, baby.  I'll just hold
my mouth here, and you can fuck your little dipstick in as much as you
want."

"My what?  Like on a car?"  He laughed.

"May I check your oil, sir?" I asked with a leer.

He laughed again, but he didn't need a second invitation.  He scooted up
and arranged himself on his knees so that his warm groin was in my face.  I
moved slightly so his sweet peter, stretching as far out as it could for
this little adventure, went into my mouth.  I resisted the urge to suck,
and I just held my lips tight around it.  I couldn't resist one flick of my
tongue over his little peelips, though!

He started to fuck my face like a little pro.  He finally fell over my face
and held himself up with his hands above my head as I lay there, with his
warm groin at my face.  I put my hands on his hips and gently guided him
into a rhythm, moving his cocklet up and down into the fuckhole my mouth
was providing.  Then he took over.  His tasty dicklet tormented me!  I
wanted to lick and suck until I could swallow the whole thing, until his
lovely peter was resting in my belly, but I disciplined myself to lie
still, to remain relaxed -- except for my lips which formed a tight little
pussyhole for my little fucker.

Since I didn't need to keep my hands on his hips, I let them caress his
smooth ass as he pumped in and out of me.  Dillon's boybutt never ceased to
amaze me.  How was it possible for an eight-year-old butt to be as smooth
as that of a baby just out of the womb?  I squeezed his cheeks a little now
and then, but I didn't want to interrupt his rhythm.

His grunts became words.  "I'm fucking... you... Mr. Richie... fucking
you... like you... do me..."  Then the words became grunts again.
"Uhhh... uhhh... uhhh..."

Then I decided to become more than passive.  I pressed a finger at his
pussyhole and then pushed in.  It couldn't have been that pleasant for him,
since my finger was dry.  He grunted, but he didn't pull away.  His tunnel
was moist, of course, so I removed my finger and carefully spread some of
his own butt-moisture around his hole.  Then I entered him again.

He hadn't even lost his rhythm.  But now, when he pulled out of my
mouth-fuckhole, my finger was thrust a little deeper into him.  Soon he was
thrusting back on my finger as firmly as he was thrusting into my mouth.
It wasn't difficult to find his little prostate in my stroking.

"Fucking you... fucking... you... uh!  Oooo the place you hit my place
oooo...  uh!  Uh! Aaaaaaa..."

His orgasm began deep inside, and my finger was aware of it.  The wet
twisting of his insides began, and his dicklet froze inside my mouth.  Then
he began to pump frantically, working his way as fast as possible to the
sweetest pleasure a boy can know.

It was marvelous.  I could feel his orgasm with my finger and my lips at
the same time!  His lovetunnel tightened unmercifully, as though it were
trying to bite my finger off my hand!  His boy-peter thrashed in my mouth
wildly.  And all this was accompanied with the lovely sound of
boy-in-pleasure.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...aaaaaaa..."

Then he melted.  He simply collapsed on me, his legs on either side of my
chest, his groin on my face, his chest and head above me on the bed.  His
sweet dick was still in my mouth.  I could taste him.  If he had been a
piece of metal, his entire body would have simply melted into mine.  We lay
there for several minutes.

Dillon always revived quickly, at least more quickly than I did.  When he
pulled away and scooted down to lie fully on me, he was already grinning
ear to ear.

"Do I fuck good?" he grinned.

"Honey, you're the best little fucker in the whole world!"

And we both laughed at that.

"And I love you, baby."  I had to add that.

He melded into me again, hugging me more tightly than I realized an
eight-year-old boy could.

After most of our lovemaking, we would shower together.  It was such a
delight, watching his little body twist and turn in the shower.  He loved
the bubbles he could create with my shower gel, and I loved watching him
play with them on his body.  He would hid his little nipples with the suds
and watch as they reappeared when the bubbles slid downward. He would mound
bubbles over his groin to pretend that he was wearing underpants of
bubbles!  His peter was hidden completely, since he was usually soft in the
shower.  Then he would wiggle his butt and "dance" to let the bubbles slide
downward until his sweet boyhood was revealed.  There were lots of hugs,
lots of touches in the shower.  He liked sucking on my cock there, too.

Normally, we began our showers with a piss.  Originally, that was because
we'd had something to drink before we went into the bedroom -- or now and
then during our playtime -- but at some point he surprised me by pissing in
the shower.  I was delighted!  I loved watching his dicklet as its little
mouth parted to let his stream out.  He would usually giggle as he shook
the last few drops off.

One day I simply asked him, "Would you pee on me, Dillon?"

He wasn't even shocked.  A long time before, when I was in college, a
friend and I enjoyed pissing on each other, and the request must have come
from those memories.  Dillon didn't hesitate for a moment.  He pointed that
sweet piece of boyflesh up to me, and it started to flow.  He stepped close
so he could hit my thighs, then my cock.  His giggles interrupted his flow
now and then, but that only made it more pleasurable.  The warmth from
inside his little body spread over me.

When he was finished I didn't even get a chance to thank him.

"Now you, Mr. Richie.  You do me now."  He was eagerly bouncing on the
balls of his feet.

Perhaps it was the larger bladder, or perhaps it was that I'd had a little
more to drink.  But I pissed buckets on my little pee-boy.  I wet his
shoulders and watched it run down his chest over his tiny nipples.  He
laughed and used his hands to wash it all over himself.  His cocklet was
soft and it stiffened just a bit, and my piss dripped off him as though he
were pissing my piss for me!  It was a kind of fun we enjoyed now and then.

The only unhappiness I witnessed, after that initial expeience, was one
afternoon when I dared to approach a subject we had both been careful to
avoid: his home life.

I don't remember just what I asked; I tried to make it as simple as
possible.  But he drew a long breath, and then the tears came.  He wasn't
sobbing; he wasn't making any sound at all!  It was appalling to me that a
child could have such a terrible home that the mere mention of it brought
such tears.

We were on the couch, and I pulled him to me and hugged him tightly.  I
didn't say anything more.  I knew I shouldn't.

Finally, his spoke into my chest.  "I'm only happy at school and here."

That's all he would say.  And I never raised the subject again.

By the time we were only a few months away from the end of the year, we
were comfortable enough with each other that we stripped almost the moment
he entered the house.  We watched TV or a movie naked.  We played board
games naked.  We ate a meal and cleaned up after it naked.  We went, naked,
into the bathroom or bedroom to begin what we both came to call our
"playtime."  That's not to say that hugs and kisses weren't exchanged
anywhere else in the house -- and, now and then, a suck, too.

I tried to teach him all I could about sex.  In those days there was
nothing at all about sex in a school curriculum, and I was certain he'd
been told nothing by his parents.  He learned everything in the same way he
learned in the classroom.  He listened carefully, asked just the right
questions, and was always ready to hear more.  I would venture to say that
by the end of his third grade year he knew more about sex than any other
student in my room.  And, of course, he'd very probably experienced more of
sex, too!

I would be hard put to say just what of our playtimes I enjoyed most.  I
was always delighted by his dicklet, bringing him to wonderful orgasms with
my fingers or mouth -- or with my thighs.  We eventually figured out a way
a little two-inch peter could fuck me and accomplish a great dry cum for
him!  A little lube between my thighs, about halfway between the bottom of
my ass and my knees.  I would lie on my stomach, and he would mount me and
fuck away!  Of course, the movement cause me to leak loads of precum on the
sheets.  But his squeals of pleasure were so wonderful!

His kisses were always so sweet, whether they were soft and tender or more
frantic and passionate as they became when he was about to orgasm.  I loved
his mouth.  So delicate.  So tender, inside and out.  So delicious, always.

As the schoolyear came closer to the end, we each knew things would change
for us.  I assured him that he was always welcome in my home, summer or
schoolyear.  But, if boys his age can become depressed, he seemed depressed
that he would be leaving my classroom behind him.  I was pleased at that,
for I honestly felt I had accomplished something wonderful and lasting with
Dillon in the classroom.  But at the same time I felt his sadness.  My
classroom would never be the same without him.  And I encouraged him to
look forward to all the new things he could learn in the fourth grade.

The morning after the last day of school, Dillon pushed his way through my
hedge, though it had become a little worn with it's use as a doorway!  I
greeted him at the back door.  He grinned as he stripped immediately.  I
laughed at his eagerness, but we'd made a bargin.  If one of us was naked,
the other had to be, also.

I picked him up for a hug and a kiss, and he clutched at my neck.  His hard
cocklet pressed into my stomach.  I held him with one hand on his bare butt
and the other slipping a finger into his boyhole.  He wiggled his butt over
it and giggled in my mouth.  I ate his giggles with as much delight as I
had ever eaten his ass.

We had been working on a large jigsaw puzzle on my dining room table, so I
asked him if he wanted to continue it.

"Nope.  I want to make love."

I had said it that way before, several times.  Not "have sex" or "fuck,"
but "make love."  This was the first time he'd said it.

I carried him straight to the bedroom and threw him on the bed, the way I
frequently began our playtimes.  He bounced around, exaggerating his
bounces, and I watched his little cheeks shake and his peter bounce around.
A beautiful sight!

I threw myself on the bed next to him and exaggerated my bounces, too.  He
wound up on top of me.  He had discovered the one place -- just above my
left thigh -- where I was ticklish, and he went to work with a vengence.  I
laughed and laughed, twisting around, but that little hunk of boy hung onto
me and wouldn't quit!  I finally reached around to his belly and began to
tickle him, and that made him back off.

We were both gasping for breath, but before I was ready for it he attacked
again.  This time he just lay his entire body on top of me and slowly
wiggled until we were both hard and excited.  We slowed eventually, and I
stroked his back and butt.  I murmured my "love yous" that he liked to
hear, and he almost burrowed his warm face into my chest.

He raised up.  "We got to do it good, Mr. Richie.  Tomorrow we're going on
vacation, and I won't see you for a couple of weeks."

That punctured my mood.

"Where are you going, honey?"

"It's a surprise.  That's what they said, but I know, anyway.  I've always
wanted to go to Disneyland, and they've always said 'someday.'  I think I'm
the only kid at school who hasn't been there!  Anyway, I'll bet that's
where we're going."

"It's a fun place, Dillon.  You'll love it."

"Yeah, I know!  But... I've been wondering one thing.  You're smart.  I
guess you'd know."

"What's that, honey?"

"Well... Does Mickey Mouse have a dick?"  And he was overtaken by gales of
laughter at his third-grade humor.

So I laughed with him.  Does Mickey Mouse have a dick?

He lay his face against mine as his laughter subsided.  Then he turned his
face until our lips met.  It was one of our soft and gentle kisses, despite
the vigor of our activity before.  I think he'd learned to love kissing as
much as I did.

Those soft lips haunt my memories.

The taste just inside his mouth was sweet.  He let my tongue probe him
slowly, and then his tongue met mine inside his little mouth.  We licked.
Tasted.  Loved.  Our kissing became more forceful.  Little Dillon could
move to genuine passion so quickly!

He slid down my stomach until he was over my cock.  He played with it for a
minute, handling it with warm little fingers.  He moved his fingers down to
my balls.  He never tired of playing with them!  Then he raised his head a
bit and took my cockhead into his mouth.  Every time was always better than
the last!  How could a little boy's mouth be so exciting?  How could his
tongue send electricity through my entire body so quickly?  I groaned.

He removed my cockhead from his mouth, held it, and began to lick it as he
would lick an ice cream cone.  "My cream cone," he'd called it once, with
his third-grade humor -- meaning my creamy cum that he loved to suck from
it.  His little fingers moved my balls from side to side as he licked.  It
was becoming a little too much for me, too soon.

I rolled him off.

"I need a wienie," I said.

"I got one," he grinned.  "I guess you can have mine.  Can I have it back
when you're done?"

"If you'll keep it safe for me."

He couldn't answer, because I'd taken his cocklet into my mouth.  I flipped
his little dickhead several times with my tongue, and he gasped.  Then I
simply held it as I turned around so I was between his legs.  Those soft
thighs.  As I held his dick, I stroked the underside of his thighs with
both hands.  He sighed.

"Oh, Mr. Richie..."

I slipped my hands under his ass to squeeze those soft, round globes of
flesh.  And I sucked gently.  He sighed again.  I inhaled him, my nose at
the smooth mound of his pubic bone, and I could smell his boyscent.  So
intoxicating!  I licked and pulled his baby boner with my lips.  So small,
so tasty, so warm, such eight-year-old hardness encased in that soft skin.
Boy pink, boy erect, boy tube, boy penis dicklet cocklet wienie peter
lovely...

My lips tightened a bit.  I knew just where to hold him, just beneath the
little crown of his dickhead.  And I pulled on him.  He would laugh about
that in other circumstances, teasing me about trying to make his dick grow
faster and bigger.  But just then he couldn't laugh.  He could only moan.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh... eat me Mr. Richie eat my peter yesssss..."

God, how I loved him!

I continued to pull his little dick as I began to flick my tongue across
his dickhead again.  How many times had I held that fascinating piece of
boymeat before me, marveling at its construction.  A little dome of pink
flesh, a bit wrinkled when soft but so taut when hard.  A tiny hole.  I
flicked my tongue faster, and his moans increased.

When would that tiny hole open and pour out his boycream?  How long before
his boybody matured just enough that his first ejaculations would occur?
It would be almost clear at first, I knew.  It would whiten as his sperm
began to appear.  As a teen he would probably be able to shoot his cum far,
in high, forceful blasts.  As an adult he would impregnate a woman with the
sperm from inside and create babies, babies of Dillon.

But I was there first.  I loved this dicklet before it became that of an
adolescent.  Who would suck it?  Where would it be thrust?  It didn't
matter.  I was there first.  He was my boy first.  My little lover...

"Oooooooo...Awwwwww..."

He was twisting beneath me.  He was close.  There would be no cum, but that
didn't matter a bit.  He was my Dillon, and I loved pleasing him.

"Yaaaaaaaaa..."

The sound of his orgasm filled the room, and he bucked into my mouth hard.
I sucked quickly.

"AAaaaaaaaaaaaaa...ooooooooooo..."  And the last of his sound came out as
breath travelling noisily through his lips.

I lay my head against his soft thigh, his dicklet still in my mouth, and
let him recover.  I felt his hand on my head, stroking my hair.  I loved
him so much!

When we began to move around again he wound up on top of me again.  I
wasn't surprised.  He liked to lie on me and rub his cheeks and lips
through the hair on my chest or wiggle his little dick against my stomach.
The more we cuddled like that, the harder my cock became.

"Dillon, could you reach the lube in that drawer, please?"

He grinned.  "You going to fuck me?"

I had to grin back.  "No, baby.  You're going to fuck me.  Right next to
the lube there's a long thing.  Get it, too."

His eyes were huge when he raised up from reaching to the drawer.  He was
holding the lube in one hand and a dildo in the other.

"It's a... it's a... big peter!  A big rubber peter!"

"It's called a dildo, Dillon.  Men use them to play with their asses,
sometimes."

A gleam came into his eye.  He grinned.  "I'm going to fuck you with this?"
he asked.  "You mean, like, it's for real, almost."

I didn't even need to answer that one.  I turned over onto my stomach and
reached back to pull my cheeks apart for him.  He'd fingered my ass several
times before, so he knew just how to apply the lube to me.

"Now, put some all over the... rubber peter," I told him.  He almost
drowned the dildo, but that was all right.  "Now, you know what to do."

And he did.  He didn't shove it, but he didn't hesitate to open me, either.
In a matter of moments, I had seven inches of rubber dick up my ass.  It
was heavenly, but chiefly because Dillon was doing it.  And he fucked me
well!  He moved it from side to side, in and out.  He even managed to
stroke my prostate a few times, without actually knowing just where it was;
he'd never been able to find it or reach it with his short little fingers.

I rolled over onto my back and raised my legs.  He turned his rubber peter
with me and continued to fuck.  I spoke to him as though it were his own
dick fucking me.

"Oh, Dillon, sweet boy, you're fucking me just right, fucking me good,
fucking me with your big, hard peter.  Fuck me, Dillon, lover, fuck me with
your big fuckstick..."

He was delighted!  He was also imaginative.  He fucked me like I'd never
been fucked before -- even with a real cock!  I finally had to ask him to
slow down, he was so enthusiastic.  And eventually I had him pull out.  He
stared at my enlarged asshole for a moment, then at the slick dildo.

"Wow."  He touched my enlarged hole with a finger.  "That's how I'm going
to fuck when I grow up, isn't it?  That's how.  Wow.  Do I look like that
after you fuck me?  Wow."

I lowered my legs and pulled him up for a long, deep, wet kiss.

"Dillon, you are going to be the best damn fucker in the world when you
grow up!"  I smiled at him, expecting a laugh or a giggle.

"No," he said, soberly and softly.  "No.  You already are, Mr. Richie."

It took me a moment to recover from that.

We lay together for a long time, just soaking up each other's heat and sex.
We may even had fallen asleep for a moment.  Then I felt him moving on top
of me.

"Now, get the lube, honey.  Lube my cock good for me."

His eyes lit up.  He so loved my cock in his butt!  He turned around, took
my hard dick, and generously lubed it.  Then he climbed off me and turned
over onto his tummy.

"No, not like that, honey.  My cock will be in your sweet pussy, but you'll
be the one doing the fucking."

He looked puzzled.  I had been thinking of this for some time.  I pulled
him back on top of me, his legs straddling my chest.  I put my hand behind
him and ran it up and down my cock to make sure it was covered well.  He'd
done a good job.  I took one wet finger and gently inserted it into his
boyhole.  He grinned and groaned at the same time.  But he groaned in
disappointment when I pulled it out.

"That was just to get you slick, honey.  Raise up on your knees."

With a puzzled frown, he pulled himsel upward.  I put my palm on his belly
and gently urged him to moved backward.  As it dawned on him what he was to
do, his frown disappeared, and his mouth opened in awe.

"You mean..?"

"Get your ass over my cock, Dillon.  I'll hold it straight up and aim it.
You sit down when you're ready and push it in.  I'll hold it in place,
honey, but you'll do the fucking.  You go up and down just like you want.
You'll be in charge.  You'll be in control, not me."

And that's exactly what happened.  There was a moment of concentration
registering on his face, and then a smile of accomplishment.  The tip of my
cockhead was right on his entrance.  Then he lowered himself.

Oh, my god, the sensation was unbelievable!  He lowered himself down and
onto my cock until he was seated fully on my groin.  My hand fell away.  He
had my cock.  Dillon had it.  Had it all.  I lost focus for a moment, the
sensation was so powerful.  He sat there.

"You... you are King of the World... Dillon.  You're... in charge.  I
won't... do a thing.  Take over, honey.  Fuck me... any way you want."

The sight was awesome!  This beautiful young boy had impaled himself on my
cock.  My cockhead was inside his tummy there, just inches from my face.
And he began.

I moaned.  Instead of moving upward, he began by rocking forward and
backward.  My cockhead moved against the silk of his insides.  It felt as
though I were fucking him with huge thrusts, and he was simply rocking back
and forth!  I had to suck in the air to remind myself to keep breathing.

Then he moved himself up, using the muscles of his thighs to rise.  And
then back down until he was fully seated again, my pubes mashed beneath his
soft boybutt.  That had apparently been just a "test."  He rose again,
farther this time, then he slid down, fucking me.  Upward again, a bit
more, then down again.  Oh, sweet Dillon fucking me...

Dillon raised himself fully on his knees, and the tip of my cockhead was
barely inside him.  Then he slid down as though he were moving down the
slide on the playground.  Up again and down...

Without realizing what I was doing, I began to recite a nursery rhyme from
my childhood.

"Ride... a cockhorse... to Danbury Town... ride a cockhorse... to Danbury
Town..."

Dillon looked at me, grinning.  He had no idea what I was saying, but he
quickly caught the message.

"Ride a cockhorse..." he recited with me.  "Ride a cockhorse... Ride a
cockhorse."

Up and down he went.  And I kept my word.  I was yearning to thrust my hips
upward, driving my cock as deep as I could.  But I had promised he could do
the fucking.  He was in charge.

And he knew it.  My little stud knew it.  He rode my cock, changing rhythm
now and then, and changing his position now and then until my cock was
being stroked by his tunnel in some different way.  And he was feeling it
in some different way.  His eyes became dreamy.  He continued to recite the
line, but his voice was softer...

He was so beautiful.  His smooth, flat little chest expanded with his deep
breaths.  Occasionally one of his little nipples would bounce just a bit as
he rode me.  His belly was rounded just a bit because of the way he was
seated.  And his peter -- so awesome.  It moved as though it had a life of
its own, now bouncing up and down, now rolling from side to side, now
trembling as bit as he sat on me harder.  It remained hard.  It was his
sex, flaunting me in the face.  I couldn't touch it.  I could only lie
there and let his boy-body use me as he wished.

Oh, ride me, my little Dillon.  Ride my cockhorse.  It's all for you, sweet
boy.  Every inch you want, every drop you want.  Ride me...

And then he stopped.  I looked at him, and he was grinning.  My little
fucker was teasing me.  I grinned back.  He wiggled a bit, and then he
began to rise and fall, up and down.  Oh, ride me, sweet boy...

"Ride your cockhorse... ride... cockhorse..."

He rode faster.  I watched his tummy as he breathed in time with his
movements.  Faster, up and down.  And then he stopped, fully seated again.

I reached out for his dicklet, but he pushed my hand away.  Sweet little
Dillon was now the man in charge.

And he fucked.  Oh dear god, he fucked!  I had promised.  He was in charge.
I was so close to blasting my cream into him, and then he would stop!  He'd
wiggle.  Stop.  Rise up and down slowly.  And stop.

"Oh, Dillon, honey, I need to cum... can't take this much longer, need to
cum, honey..."

I was getting a little light-headed, but I heard his "I love you" very
clearly.

And he fucked me.  He rode my cock until I felt every pore inside his
boyass, every millimeter of his velvety lovetunnel.  The ring of his tiny
hole slid up and down my hard wet dick so many times, it was almost
torture, sweet torture.  He rode for his pleasure, for my pleasure, for our
pleasure...

The twisting inside me was so tight I thought I simply could not take
another second of it.  Did he know?  Did he sense it, too?  His riding, up
and down up and down, became more regular. Faster.  He was urging me to
fill him.  Up and down my lovely boy fucking me oh dear god sweet Dillon
faster yesssss fucking me fucking him ooooo love him...

I shot so hard I actually yelled as though I'd been hit by something!  My
first shot burst from my cockhead, and the pleasure/pain inside me only
increased!

"Oh fuck fuuuuuuuuuck!"  That was my voice I heard!

I shot a second time, each drop of my hot cream moving tissue aside in my
cock as it surged upward into my boy lovely sweet boy, flooding his boyass
with my sperm...

"Aggggggg..."

"Yesssssssssssss..."  And that smaller voice was his, my sweet Dillon's.
Smaller, but just as loud!  I could feel his sphnicter; he was having his
own orgasm.

Two more shots burst forth; his ass had to be filled with it by now!  I
felt my poor dick jerk inside him once more, and I recognized the feeling
of the last drops oozing out of my peelips.

He slowly lay forward onto me, my cock still up his ass.  He was so full, I
could feel my cum oozing out of his boypussy, around my dick, and down onto
my balls.

I had only the energy to place my arms around him and hold him.  I couldn't
even speak for a while.

Later, we showered.  We had a bite to eat.  We kissed goodbye.  And neither
one of us was aware that it really was a goodbye kiss.  I never saw him
again.

I waited for him to appear.  But when he hadn't returned after several days
had gone by, I got in the car and drove past his home.  Every blind was
closed.  There was a "For Sale" sign in the yard.  I had to pull over to
the curb just beyond his house.  I couldn't drive with my hands trembling.
I couldn't drive with the tears flowing.

His parents had lied to him.  That "vacation" was their move to another
place.

For the remainder of that summer, I was a wreak.  I cried myself to sleep
more than once.  I held the pillow, the sheets, a pair of briefs he'd
forgotten once, to my nose to smell him.  I jacked off, then cried.  I was
really a mess for a while.  Perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit that,
but I'm not.  I had come to love that little boy so much.

When fall came I found that his school records had been requested by an
elementary school all the way across the country.

By the time school began I had recovered enough that I could function in
the classroom.  I toyed with the idea of trying to get in touch with him,
but that would not have been a good idea.  I continued in the classroom,
third grade, for another fifteen years.  I hope I had good effect on many
students.  Then I went into administration, where I am today.

There really isn't anything else to say.  I loved him.  That's all I can
say.  I loved him.

Sincerely,
Mr. Richie

--------------------

Dear Mr. Richie:

I don't know how to respond.  What a fortunate little boy.  You are a
remarkable man.  I hope the memories haven't brought you too much pain.  I
hope the memories have only begun to comfort you with the knowledge that
Dillon loved you very much, too.

Sincerely,
Chuck