Why it Changed
This is fiction. Like all fiction, it's not real. That is to say, the characters are not real. They're made up. The situations never happened. The events never occurred. But, like all decent fiction, there's often as much, or more, truth in it than in any newspaper story or journalistic report. The kind of truth that can only be said in fiction. Remember, boys don't know about sex. Well, okay, maybe they do. But, they don't want to have sex. Well, okay, some do. But, they certainly wouldn't want sex with adults. Well, maybe some would. But, they definitely wouldn't enjoy it. And they most definitely wouldn't start it. Okay, forget all that. Maybe they would, but, if they did, they would most definitely be irreparably harmed for life by it....
Don't read this if you're not allowed. By your parents. Or your government. (Is there a difference?) Or whoever. If you do anyway, it's your problem if you're caught. Not mine.
If you haven't yet read How It Changed then you need to go and do that. Really. You do. Honest. Don't question it. Just go read it. I'll wait.
He might be only eleven, but I knew he wasn't stupid.
I'm pretty sure he knew exactly what I was doing. And that was the problem.
He was sitting there, so warm and comfortable, on my lap. We were watching a movie that evening, just me and him. I was, once again, watching him for Denise.
My hand, my left hand, was on his smooth, bare leg. At the start of the movie it was just above his knee. Now, it was getting perilously close to the hem of his boxer shorts, which had ridden up a fair bit from him wiggling on my lap.
His legs were incredible.
So long and smooth and hairless.
My hand was rubbing. In little circles. Over and over again, round and round. The touch of his skin on my palm was amazing.
Slowly, as the movie played on, my little circles were moving upwards. Towards his boxers.
Towards his penis.
He didn't move.
It was hard to say what he was thinking. I knew he noticed. It was obvious. Just like my erection in my jeans. Pushing up into his warm, soft butt.
No, he definitely wasn't stupid.
But, he was eleven. And maybe not quite as smart as he thought he was.
Not smart enough, for example, to remember to erase his internet history when he was done on the computer.
So I knew where he'd been. I knew what he liked looking at. And how often.
Oh yeah, I knew.
That, I think, was why. At least that's how I pretended to justify it in my own head. Why I was doing what I was doing. Why I was letting this become so sensuous.
His legs were splayed slightly apart. One between my own legs and one outside my left leg. My right hand was warmly holding his right wrist. My left, well, my left hand seemed to have a mind of its own.
I sat down with him to watch a movie. Just a movie. Maybe to cuddle a bit. I didn't sit down with him to molest him. Really, I didn't.
Like I said, I think my hand had other ideas. Not to mention certain other body parts.
So there we were.
My heart was beating wildly. So was his.
My hand moved a bit higher. It was almost there.
I couldn't help wondering what he'd do.
Before my fingers touched his boxer shorts though, the movie ended. The credits started rolling.
I kept my hand circling, but otherwise neither of us moved.
Finally, he grabbed the remote and stopped the movie. He seemed to be trying to decide something. He was frozen for a few long seconds. But then he just found another movie, hit play on the remote, and set it down again.
I started rubbing his leg again as the opening scene played out. I felt him sigh slightly.
Maybe that's what gave me courage. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was an idiot. But my hand moved up.
A bit more. Right to the hem of his boxers.
It had seemed to take forever to get there.
He was staring right at my hand now instead of the movie. So was I.
On the next circle I moved my thumb underneath the leg of his boxers.
He stopped breathing.
That's when I knew I had fucked up. In the absolute worst way.
He moved his left hand right onto mine, and pushed. Just the tiniest little push, but it was clear. And it was definite. He pushed my hand. Away. And down.
Now I'd done it. I'd read it completely wrong. I'd freaked him out. Probably scared him. Almost certainly confused and worried him.
I'd ruined everything. I loved him, though I'd never actually said those words. But now I'd ruined it. How could he ever trust me again? What must he think?
I moved my hand down to his knee, and then off of his leg. My erection had vanished of course. I felt like shit. I tried, and failed I'm sure, to act normal. I stared directly at the TV. My face felt tense.
He didn't say anything. I didn't say anything.
I could feel his eyes on me. Probably trying to see if I looked liked the monster I had just demonstrated that I was.
He looked away, back at the TV. His face scrunched up. His brow furrowed. His thinking hard look. If the situation wasn't so completely in the shitter I would have chuckled. I loved that look. It made his cute face look even cuter.
I needed some space. And some air. I had a few decisions to make.
I shifted him off my lap and stood up.
I looked at him sitting there for a second, wondering what was going through his mind.
Then I turned and went into the kitchen.
I opened the cupboard and took down a glass. Walking over to the sink I turned on the water, let it run for a few seconds, and then filled the glass.
I drank it down. All at once. I was hoping the water would calm me down. Cool my nerves. Help me regain a bit of equilibrium.
It didn't work.
I stood over the sink. Staring at the sliver of moon outside the kitchen window. The moonlight washed over my face, cold and hollow. It took me a minute before I could move again.
Not knowing what else to do, I went back into the living room. With an effort, I tried to keep my expression at least somewhat normal.
"It's late, Donny," I said. "Time for bed I think."
He looked up at me. I don't think he was aware of it, but he was chewing his lower lip a bit. The way he does when he wants to ask a question, or say something. Something difficult. Or uncomfortable.
But he didn't. Instead, he just nodded. "Okay, Mike," he said as he climbed to his feet.
He stretched. I almost laughed. It wasn't just a stretch. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as I thought. He made sure he was turned towards me, reached his hands high, and as he stretched made an exaggerated bend so his crotch bowed out directly towards me. I wonder if he thought he was being subtle.
He ran upstairs, his bare feet making little soft noises on the carpet as he climbed the stairs.
I watched him. I couldn't take my eyes off him.
I listened as he brushed his teeth and then made his way into his bedroom. I heard him plop down on his bed, then turn restlessly for a minute or two.
Then it was quiet.
I didn't sit down.
I was too wound up. Too nervous.
I paced instead.
Back and forth I paced. Thinking. Wondering.
I knew I had to go up and say goodnight. I always did. He would be expecting that.
But I didn't want to freak him out. More than I had already I mean.
If I went into his room, that might worry him. He might think I was coming in to do more than say goodnight.
I'd better not. Just in case.
I climbed the stairs and went to his room. I knocked twice and opened his door. He was lying in bed, on his back. He looked over at me.
He was beautiful.
It was all I could do not to walk in there. To probably do something I'd regret.
Too late for that, I suppose.
I just said, "Goodnight, Donny. Sleep well." Then I closed his door softly and went downstairs.
He was relieved, probably. Though I wasn't. I was cold. And lonely.
I resumed my pacing.
This wasn't right.
I'd taught him better than that.
I'd really tried. Though god knows I'd probably messed it up. But I'd really tried. To teach him. To make good decisions. To face problems head on. To be honest. To not avoid.
Now look at me. Some role model I was.
I took a breath, gathering my courage. I knew what I needed to do.
I knew what I needed to do, and I knew the almost certain consequences. I knew what would happen. I knew the shitstorm I'd created.
I'd never forgive myself. But I'd be damned if I was going to turn my back on him now. At least I could do that much.
I went upstairs.
I stood outside his bedroom door. Maybe he was asleep.
No chance of that. After knocking softly, he said, "Come in." almost immediately. He sounded tense.
I had no idea what to expect.
I went in.
I sat down on his bed, and rubbed his soft, straight hair. The way I always do. I couldn't help wondering if it was the last time I'd ever do that.
He was looking up at me. His expression as serious as a thunderstorm. One of his feet was twitching, moving back and forth nervously.
I felt horrible.
I gathered my courage, "I couldn't leave it like this, Donny. I was hoping you'd still be awake."
He just nodded warily. I think he wanted me to leave.
"I owe you....an apology," I said. "And an explanation, I think. I was going to just ignore it. Pretend it didn't happen.
"But I couldn't. That wouldn't have been right.
"So, if you will, let me say what I need to say. Then I'll answer any questions. Anything at all. Then, you can decide..." I couldn't finish. I just couldn't. I was too scared. Too selfish.
His expression didn't change. Wariness maybe. Or confusion. Or worse, maybe.
"I'm sorry, Donny. I shouldn't have done that. Rubbed your leg like that. Moved my hand up to your boxers like that. It wasn't right." I wonder what my expression looked like. He seemed to relax slightly.
"I did it because I wasn't thinking." Dammit. I was lying! I knew it. I promised myself I wouldn't do that. Dammit all to hell. He deserved better. He deserved only the best. Not cowardice.
"No," I said. "I promised myself I'd be honest. You deserve that. And more.....Donny, I did that because I wanted to. Because I find you almost irresistible. Because I was..." I wasn't sure I could say it. I wasn't sure if he even would know what I was talking about. But I said it anyway, "....horny."
I couldn't look at him. God I'm a fuck.
I figured at least I'd better make sure I was making some vague sense, "That means turned on. Sexy. You know..."
He interrupted me, "I know what it means."
I nodded at him. I figured as much. He wasn't exactly innocent. That much I knew for sure. "Yeah, I thought you might," I said, thinking about his internet browsing activities.
"That's not an excuse," I explained. "That's an explanation. I don't have an excuse." I tried to think of a way this would make sense to him. "You know when you get mad?" I asked. "At your mom? Or me? For whatever?"
"Well, it's like that. When you get mad, you're allowed to be mad. You're allowed to feel however you feel. But we're not allowed to act however we feel like acting. When you're really mad, you might want to yell and swear and scream. But you have to control that. To do something different."
He nodded again.
His mom and I had spent a lot of time with him on that. We needed to. He had quite the temper. Teaching him how to use his feelings, and make clear decisions, instead of allowing his feelings to use him was a hard lesson to learn.
"Well, this is the same exact thing. I was horny." I said. "But that didn't give me the right to hold you on my lap like that, with an erection that I know you could feel. And to rub your leg like that. We both know where that was going. Before you stopped me. I'm really glad you did." That wasn't quite true, of course. But I wasn't about to tell him that.
He was chewing his lip again. He seemed to hesitate. Then he blinked and asked me a question. "How come, though? I mean, why were you so horny? We were just watching a movie. Like we always do when Mom's out and you're watching me. There wasn't anybody else there. Why would you be horny?"
Oh lord, if he only knew. Why was I horny?! The most sexy, smart, wonderful, funny, kind, and perfect eleven year old boy was lying almost naked on my lap, and he wondered how I could be horny. I couldn't help laughing. I hope he didn't take that the wrong way. "Oh, Donny. I didn't need anybody else, or anything else. That was enough."
He blinked. I noticed he was chewing his lip again.
"Anyway," I said, "I'm going to say goodnight now. And go downstairs. But if you want to say anything, I promise to listen. If you want to ask me anything, I promise I'll answer fully. And then you will have a decision to make. One I forced you in to. Which is why what I did is so wrong, here and now. You'll have to decide what to do. Who to talk to. What comes next. And you should. Talk to whoever you need to, I mean."
That was hard. I knew what would almost certainly happen. I knew it. But I did it anyway. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel like he was being tricked or manipulated into keeping a secret that he probably wasn't at all comfortable with.
I had to. I loved him.
He asked, "What if I only want...need...to talk to you?"
He surprised me. I wasn't expecting that. He was a wonderful boy. In every way. But subtlety was never exactly his strong point. Nor was a whole lot of introspection.
Or maybe I was wrong.
"I...don't know." I wasn't about to lie to him. Not now. I still think he'd probably need to tell someone. Of course, I'm not stupid. I don't have a death wish either. And prison wouldn't be all that good for my career. I was reasonably certain about that. I really hoped he wouldn't tell anyone. But there it was. "Maybe we'll need to figure this out," I said. "We'll need to make sure that's the right thing to do for you."
He seemed to be getting a big frustrated with me though. "Mike," he said, rolling his eyes, "you're making a big deal out of it. You didn't even touch my...me. You didn't do anything. Except rub my leg. What is there to ask? Or say?"
I knew better. I knew that he knew it, too. I'd taught him better than that. "Donny, are you being completely honest right now?"
I think he blushed. It was hard to tell in the moonlight from the window. "No," he said.
Good for him. Honesty. "Okay, then," I said, "answer your own question."
"Because...because I guess it kind of is a big deal." he said. "Because you were going to....touch me....touch my...." he hesitated. I wondered if he'd find the courage to say it. I was again proud of him. He did. "...my dick. We both knew it. We're not supposed to pretend we don't. It's not good to pretend things like that. You always say."
I was so, so proud of him at that moment. He had learned so much. But, I was crushed too. I knew what I had done. I wondered how much I had ruined all of that.
"Yeah, I was," I said. Then you stopped me. That's why it's a big deal. That's why we're talking now. So...before I go downstairs...anything you need to say? Any questions?"
He chewed on his lip some more. Then asked, "So what happens now?"
That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? What happens now? I wish I could tell him. I wish I could say that everything will be fine. That everything will go back to exactly how it used to be. I wish that I had never done it. I wished I wasn't so desperately attracted to boys like him. To him.
I needed to reassure him. It didn't matter about me. Not even a little bit. I started this. I needed to handle it. "That's up to you, Donny." He needed to know this next part. It was important. "But no matter what, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a horny old perv who almost got carried away, and who had to get an eleven year old with more control than me to stop him. No matter what, you're a perfect kid, just like you are, and you can't make a wrong decision here. No matter what."
That should do it.
I didn't want him to worry about me. I wasn't important.
He said, "No, I don't have any more questions. Not tonight."
I don't know how, but I managed a smile. "Okay, Donny. I'm downstairs if you change your mind."
Like I said, I don't have a death wish. But this was more important. I didn't want him to feel trapped. To feel like he didn't have any choices, so I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and set it on his beside table. I made sure he saw me do it, too.
Then I kissed his head, smelling the sweet fragrance of his hair, gave him a hug, and walked out of his room. And maybe his life.
I went downstairs and got a beer out of the fridge. I drank it half down in one gulp, then brought it with me back in to the living room. I sat down on the couch.
I couldn't get him out of my mind.
Despite everything, I didn't regret it. In fact, I wished it had gone further. Maybe that was awful. But I did.
I hadn't touched a boy, had sex with a boy, for years. Even longer since I had sex with a boy of Donny's age. The last time, I think, was with Aaron. He was eleven. I was fourteen. That was fifteen long years ago. I wonder what happened to him. We lost touch after his dad was re-deployed.
Maybe that was why. It had been so long. Maybe that was what made it so hard for me to resist. That and the fact that he was impossibly sexy. Criminally sexy.
Yeah. Criminally. I think I hit the nail on the head.
I wondered if he was asleep, up there in his room. Probably not. I had left him too tense. With too much to think about. He was probably wondering. Thinking. Trying to make sense of it all.
Well, fuck me.
I mean, just because he liked gay pictures on the internet, just because he couldn't take his eyes off other boys, and men, while changing at the pool, just because I found those candles and other things in his room, that didn't mean anything. It shouldn't. I read too much into it. I was way, way too far ahead. He was still eleven. Innocent.
Nothing like I had been at his age. If he only knew what I had been up to, he wouldn't want to even look at me again.
"Mike?" his voice said, making me jump half a foot.
I turned. He was standing in the doorway, looking at me.
God, he was gorgeous.
His straight, dark hair hung down, playing off his neck. He brushed it out of his eyes while waiting for me to reply. He was naked, except for his boxers. They hung low on his hips. Was that a bit of a bulge I saw in the front?
No. Of course not.
"Yeah, kiddo?" I finally answered. I couldn't take my eyes off him.
"I have more questions," he said. He was walking towards me. I watched the muscles in his legs move.
"Okay, Donny," I said. "Let's talk." I sat up slightly and pointed at him to sit down in the chair across from me.
He ignored that. Or didn't see it. But I'm pretty sure he ignored it. And then he sat down.
Right in my lap.
Exactly where he had been before, during the movie.
Exactly the same.
I found it hard to catch my breath.
I used the excuse of finding the remote and muting the TV as a way of buying a few seconds. Why did he have to do that? This was hard enough already.
He chewed his bottom lip, looking at me, "Why does everyone say it's wrong?"
The kid was going to kill me. If he only knew how tenuous this was. How close to the edge I was. My control was hanging by a thread. It didn't matter though. Not to him. He grabbed my hand. My left hand. And he put it right on his left leg. Above his knee. Right where it had been before.
I was tense. I thought about trying to remove my hand. But he kept his hand on top of mine, preventing that, at least without a little work.
His leg felt so nice under my hand. Warm. And soft. And smooth.
I wasn't thinking. I answered his question suddenly. Before I thought about it. If I had, I think I would have responded differently. "Sex?" I replied, thinking of nothing but.
"Yeah," he said. "Well, kinda. I know sex isn't always wrong."
I sighed, thinking. Talking I could do. I relaxed slightly.
"You're right," I said. "Sex isn't wrong. But how and when and who it's with can be wrong."
I waited for the follow up question. He delivered. Frowning, he asked, "What do you mean?"
His hand was still on top of mine. On his thigh. I felt him push it. My hand. In little circles. He wanted me to rub him again. Like before.
"Well," I said, "it's complicat...No. Sorry. You deserve better than that." He did too. I started rubbing his leg. In little circles. The way he wanted.
It was nice.
"Lots of things can be wrong if they're done in the wrong way, or the wrong place, or with the wrong people. But they can be right otherwise," I said.
"Like what?" his voice was soft. Almost like music. Much softer than usual. He was watching my hand. Doing slow gentle circles on his leg.
I thought about how to answer. "Well, say like eating. Eating isn't wrong. In fact, it's necessary. But if all you eat is junk food, then that's wrong. 'Cause you'd be sick. Or eating in math class. That's wrong. But eating in the lunch room. That's okay. Or, eating with your mouth open. That's wrong, 'cause it's disgusting."
He wasn't buying it. "But sex isn't like eating," he said. His voice was a bit firmer.
How to explain it? I didn't want to scare him. Freak him out. But he needed to understand. I didn't realize I had stopped rubbing his leg. He made sure I knew how he felt about that though. He put his hand back on mine and started pushing it in circles again. I noticed, oh boy did I notice, that he seemed to be nudging it a bit higher.
"Well, no. Sex is wrong when someone is forced into it, or tricked into it, or doesn't understand what they're getting into, or when it's used as a way to try and control or manipulate someone. Or when it's selfish," I said. Selfish. Yeah. That's how this whole thing started, wasn't it?
That made me feel guilty all over again. I stopped rubbing his thigh. But, once again, and this time far more firmly than before, he put his hand on top of mine and pushed it in big, broad circles. I gave in. It was easy to do so. Rubbing his leg was like heaven.
"Okay, I know that. Like rape and stuff," he said. "But why does everyone get so freaked out about stuff like what we talked about? Adults? And kids?"
I was done for. I didn't have a hope now. I looked down. His boxers. They were tented out. Very distinctly and very clearly.
My boy had a hard on.
It wasn't more than three seconds later, and I had one too. I'm surprised I didn't bounce him off my lap with it.
I tried to keep the thread of the conversation though. For my own sanity. I answered, "Because kids are still growing up. Because sex is real strong. Real powerful feelings. Kids haven't learned how to deal with those. Because adults have power over kids, so it's almost impossible for it to be equal. Sex should be equal."
I could say I felt like a hypocrite. I did, too. I could say that I thought it through. I could say I was in full control of myself.
But I'd be lying.
My eyes were completely locked on the wonderful bulge in the front of his loose boxers.
I couldn't look away if I tried.
He smirked at me, looking at my eyes, "You mean because kids will start to have power over adults."
I laughed. It was funny. It was true, too. Though I wasn't thinking of it like that. I tore my eyes away from his boxers and looked right at him, "No. Well, yes, I suppose. But that's not what I meant. I meant that adults have power over kids. Almost always. And they almost always know more. So it's easy for them to trick or manipulate them into doing things."
I looked at his little tent again. His very attractive tent. "And sex is strong. It can mess with your head." Yeah, it sure can. It was sure messing with mine. "Kids aren't usually ready for those feelings yet." Apparently, I thought to myself, some adults aren't either.
"Oh," he said. His brow furrowed. Then he got a gleam in his eye. Uh-oh. I knew that look. "So," he said, "then, if kids aren't ready for those feelings, then they shouldn't have them? They should avoid them?"
"Yeah..." I answered, wondering what kind of hole he was leading me into.
"So, then, kids probably shouldn't be allowed to get angry then. 'Cause they often yell or tantrum. Or throw things. And kids probably shouldn't be allowed to get too excited. Because they can't sit still and then smile and giggle too much. And I guess they shouldn't be allowed to laugh too much, 'cause...."
I had to head this off at the pass. I interrupted him, "Nice try, Donny. Not quite though. That's different. Kids need to learn how to control themselves."
Before he even answered, I saw the trap that he laid. I had walked right into it. I found myself, again, proud of him. Despite everything. "So, then, this shouldn't be any different," he smirked, "Just like when I get mad. Like you said. I need to learn what to do with it. Learn from it, and don't let it control me. Make a good, conscious decision."
Then he really shocked me. I mean, really completely floored me. Right when he said that, the part about "good, conscious decisions," he pushed my hand, still rubbing his leg, right up onto his boxers. He pushed it hard. Firm. Right up onto his very wonderfully hard penis.
He kept his hand right on top of mine, too. Like he meant business. Like he was telling me not to dare remove it. I didn't. But I didn't try moving or rubbing either.
His hard dick under my palm was incredible. I could feel it throbbing. Alive.
But. I couldn't. "Donny..." I said. I tried to sound angry.
The little bugger just looked right at me. He grinned cheekily at me, his eyes dancing, "Yeah?"
I couldn't help it. I smiled at him. "You're entirely too smart for your own good, you know that?" I said.
He just wiggled his eyebrows.
I had to try again. I know I did. "But that's not quite right. See. Even if everything you just said was true, and it isn't, in our culture, in this time, it's considered wrong. Very wrong. One of the most wrong things there is."
"So?" he asked. Pretending not to understand me. I knew better. We had this conversation. Not two days ago. Talking about a news report on TV.
"So, we live in this culture. You already know this part. We've talked about it. Some laws are stupid, or worse. But, we go along with them. Because otherwise we wouldn't have society."
He was relentless. "But you also say that some laws should be fought against. And that some laws should be ignored."
He just wouldn't give up. I wasn't about to let him win this one though. But, despite that, I didn't take my hand off his stiff cock. I couldn't. I didn't have it in me. It felt way too good under my palm.
"Maybe," I answered, "but I also have told you, again and again, we have to very carefully pick our battles. This isn't one that's winnable. It's very, very dangerous to even play."
The little scamp wasn't letting me keep my hand from moving any more. He had his hand on top of mine still. And he was moving it. Up and down. Trying to get me to do it.
I pretended not to notice.
So he just did it harder. Real obvious like. Up. Down.
I relented. My willpower was being steadily drained away. Inexorably. I slowly began moving my hand.
Well, too late now. I might as well do it right. Palm down, I made sure I pushed with just the right amount of pressure, just enough that it would feel real nice. I wanted him to feel real nice. I moved my hand.
He shuddered. I think I must have done it right.
I was so turned on by now I couldn't even see straight. I felt my dick twitching in my jeans. Right into his soft butt.
He must have felt it.
He wiggled his butt.
I almost shot right in my pants. It was so hot. My penis jumped.
It was so sexy.
I dredged up the last remaining bit of free will I seemed to have left. I knew I needed to. I stopped feeling his dick, though I didn't want to, and I said, "Donny, we can't do this." I tried to sound real serious. "It's not right. It's too dangerous. And I don't want to do anything to hurt you."
A look of annoyance flashed across his face. I knew that look. I'd seen it often enough. He wanted me to shut up.
Well, tough. He had to know this. It was important.
But, before I could tell him that, he shocked me again.
He turned, and planted a big, wet, hard kiss right on my lips.
He kept kissing. He started moving his lips around.
He'd watched too many movies. My fault. He needed to learn how to do this right. I kissed back. I tried to even out the pressure, soft and sensuous, not lip mashing and teeth crunching.
Then, I pushed my tongue out. Against his lips.
I wondered if he'd do it.
Oh yeah. He did. He eagerly opened his mouth and let me in. Our tongues touched. And rubbed.
Once again though, my guilt intervened. I tried again. I pulled back, "Dammit, Donny. No. We can't!" Visions of dirty jail cells were running through my head.
But he wasn't having any of it. He was like a little human ball of horniness now. He just wiggled around, until my dick was between his butt cheeks. Then he began flexing them. Right on my dick.
He was looking deep into my eyes when he did this. His expression intense. Needy.
I'm not a saint. Far from it. "I should stop you. I know I should. I need to." I was lost, and I knew it. "But, I'm not man enough to do it."
I moved in for another kiss. A wonderful, sexy, incredible kiss.
He was ready. His mouth was wide open even before my lips got near. We kissed, our tongues meshing, our lips sliding on each other.
I had forgotten how wonderful this was. Wow.
He kept wiggling his cute little butt against me. It had me going crazy. I couldn't help it. I started pushing into him, humping. It was wild.
I moved my hand. Up off his boxers and onto his smooth belly. I played with his belly button for a few seconds, but his whimper and the way he flexed his stomach in let me know what he was waiting for.
I slid my hand down. Underneath the elastic waistband of his boxers. Onto his smooth, hairless, pubic area. Closer and closer to the target we both were waiting for.
I could feel the heat from it as I got closer.
Then I touched it. He twitched mightily. Then he almost purred. I circled my fingers around his hard, hard penis and started moving my hand. Stroking.
Up, over the head and right to the tip, pulling his foreskin with me.
Then down, pulling his loose foreskin over and off the head with it.
He was panting. Wiggling. Gasping.
Then he moved, slid over a bit.
He reached his hand down and put it on my jeans. Right on top of my dick. He pushed down, then squeezed gently, exploring its thickness, and its length.
It felt wonderful. I needed to tell him that. He deserved to know. I interrupted our kiss, gasping, and said, "Oh, Donny. That feels so nice."
He looked so proud. My cock pulsed a bit. He could feel it.
Donny popped open the button on my jeans. Like he was born to do it.
Then he reached for my fly.
I just kept rubbing him, now down to his balls. Trying to make him feel half as nice as he was making me feel. I rolled them around, gently, then rubbed his perineum. I knew he'd like that.
I was right. He did.
He was struggling a bit getting my fly down. I had to hold one side of my jeans up, straightening the zipper, so he could do it. He got them unzipped then pulled my fly wide. My dick, still encased in my boxers, tried to make it's way out of hiding.
Donny gently put his hand right on it, feeling all around and over it. His grin was infectious. You'd think he'd just been given his favorite candy bar.
Almost immediately, he tried pulling my jeans down. He couldn't do it by himself though, so I helped. Together, we got them down and off.
He gently stroked my penis through my boxers, his small, soft, and warm hand making me groan out loud.
Then, much as I had done with him, he reached into my boxers and held my bare dick with his bare hand.
He could barely get his hand around it, but that didn't stop him from trying. He started stroking. It was a bit clumsy, but I didn't care. I had never felt anything so wonderful. So completely sexy.
Just a few seconds later my impatient boy had his hands on my boxers, working desperately to get them off too. Once again, I helped him. I wasn't really any more patient now than he was. We got them off. And now I was only wearing my old t-shirt.
His eyes were moving all over my body, but mostly were aimed towards my middle. Towards my dick. His expression was wondrous.
He started stroking me again, and I could wait no longer. I needed to get him naked.
I pulled on one side of his boxers. They slipped down over his hip. He lifted his butt, and I pulled down the other side. Then I slid them off, over his knees and then his feet. They ended up on the floor, beside Denise's big couch.
He was amazing. His body practically shone with lust. With beauty. With sex. His dick stood out like steel. Not huge, but perfect for him. His foreskin was half retracted, the red and shiny head peeking through. His balls were slightly bigger than I expected, just slightly, but perfect for him.
"Oh, Donny," I said, catching my breath. "You're incredible. So incredible."
He grinned at me, enjoying the compliment. It made him look even sexier. He kept stroking me, turning his eyes back to the task. I was working on his dick, stroking, playing, rubbing. My other hand found itself drawn to his wonderfully sexy butt. I was squeezing and rubbing his cheeks, massaging, allowing my fingers to gently press in between, wondering if I should. Wanting to.
I gasped. My attention, on his butt, was returned to his head. His mouth. Which was now very suddenly and very firmly encasing the head of my penis.
He took his time, breathing in deeply through his nose, then pushed it deeper into his mouth. His tongue worked around my cockhead, swirling and sucking.
I wasn't sure if he'd done this before. It didn't seem the right time to ask. But he was careful, and he seemed to know what would feel good.
"Oh, Donny," I said, "I can't believe this. I can't believe you're doing that."
He was full of surprises, my favorite boy. Maybe he wouldn't have been quite so surprised after all, to learn what I had been up to at his age.
I decided to go for it. My fingers, playing in his crack, pushed downwards, right onto his hole.
He shuddered. It was incredibly intense. But I wasn't sure, was his shudder one of pleasure? Or avoidance. I moved my hand away, just in case.
No. It was pleasure. He quickly grabbed my hand and firmly pushed it back onto his ass, my fingers right back where he seemed to need them, right onto his hole.
I'd couldn't believe it. I'd never, in my life, been in a situation so sexy, so hot, so wonderfully depraved.
I pushed in a bit. I wished I had some lube. He was dry, so was my finger, so I was careful. I didn't want to hurt him.
His mouth popped off my penis, and he stood up suddenly, surprising me. His penis stood out in front of him, bobbing slightly with his heartbeat.
Had I gone too far?
No. He smirked at me, and said, "Be right back."
He ran upstairs. I watched him, mostly his sexy butt, while he climbed he stairs.
I swear he was wiggling it on purpose. For my benefit. I'm sure of it.
He came back downstairs a few seconds later. His grin so wide I thought it would meet at the back. His stiff penis leading the way. He was holding something out in front of him.
I recognized it.
A tube of KY jelly.
Oh my god. My innocent boy had been playing a bit more than I had given him credit for. I should have known.
"I underestimated you, kiddo," I said. "I should know better by now."
He climbed back onto the couch with me and popped open the top of the tube. Holding onto my hand, he squeezed a nice sized bead onto my fingers, then pushed my hand back onto his butt. His fingers aimed my fingers in. And downwards. Straight onto his little pucker.
I got the message. I pushed in, gently, with one finger. Just the tip. I turned it and wiggled a bit, trying to maximize the feelings for him. I was careful. I wasn't sure how much butt play he had done to himself.
I wonder if he'd discovered his prostate.
He moved his legs apart. Wide. Very wide. Trying to give me access.
Then he leaned his head down and slurped my cock right back into his warm and wet mouth.
I pushed my lubricated finger a bit deeper now, into his tight hole. I could feel it squeezing me. I was slow, and careful. But insistent. A bit deeper, my finger curled slightly, trying to find his prostate.
He moaned. Bingo! I pressed a bit more.
I couldn't believe it. This was wild. Here I was, sitting here, having sex with Donny! And he was into it as much as I was. It was such a mindfuck. I had known his mom since we were both seven years old. I was there when Donny was born, when his biological dad was nowhere to be seen. We were practically related.
Now I had my finger up his ass. And he was sucking my cock. At eleven years old.
I found the tube of KY with my other hand and with a bit of doing managed to squeeze a bit more onto the fingers of that hand. I used it to give his stiff dick and balls a good working over.
He seemed to appreciate it.
I was getting close. I expected he knew exactly what that meant. I needed to warn him, "If you don't stop sucking I'm going to cum," I said.
He stopped. I'm not sure if it was because he didn't want my spunk in his mouth, or if he just wanted to delay the inevitable. He grinned up at me. Looking as proud as the day he won the award for the science fair.
Our earlier conversation seemed to be the farthest thing from his mind. I know it was still there, in the back of mine, sitting there, waiting. For later. I pushed those thoughts away.
I put my hand on his chest, and gently pushed him down onto his back. He got the idea immediately. I swung around, my finger still embedded in his ass up to the second knuckle.
I leaned in, holding his hard penis in two fingers. I slicked his foreskin back, over and down, leaving his shiny red-purple head exposed.
Then I opened my mouth, and sucked it in.
I was careful. And gentle. When I was his age, my dickhead was very, very sensitive. A lot more sensitive I think than my circumcised friends. So I didn't want to give him too much friction. Just enough.
His dick seemed made for me. For my mouth. Like it wanted to be there. I tried to give it the same message back.
At the same time my other hand was busy too. I had managed to squeeze a bit more KY onto my fingers, and this time was pressing into his hole with two. I was slow. Careful. Gentle.
I could feel him working to relax, his body language encouraging me as I continued the blowjob.
I was in. Now with two fingers. His tight hole opening up for me. I twisted them around, and in and out, working his prostate as best I could from this angle. At the same time, my lips were up and down his shaft, my tongue working over his cockhead and behind it. Then off his dick on licking and sucking his balls, then back to his dick.
It was amazing. He was amazing. He was so open, so into it. Like there was no place he'd rather be.
I rubbed his prostate hard, and licked his cockhead.
That did it.
He came. Hard.
He grunted loudly, then gasped. "Oh god, Mike!" he whispered, then again and again, "Oh...oh, oh."
It was so amazingly sexy.
I stopped sucking. He was probably real sensitive now. I remembered what it was like for me.
I kept my fingers in his butt though.
I loved him so much. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe he trusted me enough. To be here. To want to do this with me.
Then, I felt his hand again. On my dick.
Only this time, it was slimy. Completely covered with KY. He was rubbing it, coating my dick with it.
No way. He couldn't be thinking....
No. He couldn't be. That wouldn't happen. It couldn't
I looked at him. In his eyes.
That's what he was thinking.
"Donny..." I said. Knowing I needed to stop him. I don't think he had thought it through. My size, compared to him. The gravity of what he was thinking of.
I knew from his eyes though that he wasn't planning on being dissuaded.
He must have read my thoughts in my eyes too, because before I could say anything more he kind of wiggled around. Turning over.
He was on his front now. He pulled his knees under him and was leaning on his elbows, his head almost on the arm rest. His butt was facing me, facing my hard penis. He was still holding it. He pulled on it. Pulled it toward him, towards his butt. It was slick, so it slipped out of his fingers.
"Donny, why...?" I asked. Not really knowing quite what I was asking, but wanting to make sure he had a chance to think.
"Because," he said immediately, cutting me off. "Because I want to." He said that like it was important. Like it was the most important thing. Ever. "Because I love you."
"But you..." I replied, intending to explain some of the clear physical issues at hand here.
Again he didn't let me finish. "And because you love me."
Well, yeah. Of course I did. I knew it. I knew that he knew it.
I realized though, that for some strange reason, I don't think I had ever told him that. Not like that.
I needed to rectify that. Now.
"Yes, Donny. Yes. I do love you," I said, looking right into his eyes.
He grinned a satisfied grin.
I gave up. Like I said, I'm not a saint. And he wanted it, even though that was probably temporary. I knew I'd likely never have another chance. I wanted it too, more than I cared to admit. Oh, how I wanted it. I decided to take advantage. I knew it was probably the only chance I'd ever get. And, it was a bit too late for recriminations now. We were well into it.
I got to my knees, and slid around behind him.
I was going to do it. Or at least try.
I was going to fuck him.
I found the tube of KY and squeezed more onto my fingers, making a mental note to pick up another tube so Denise wouldn't miss it.
I covered my dick with it. He was watching me, his head swiveled around backwards.
I slid forwards.
The head of my penis touched him. Right on his hole.
I could see him trying to relax.
Oh, my sweet boy. I don't think you understand.
I pushed. Just a bit. I didn't want to hurt him. And I wanted to give him time to change his mind once he figured out what he was in for.
Instead, though, he pushed back. Hard.
I relented. I pushed inwards, steadily, firmly. He was pushing back onto me. I could see him working, to let me in. He seemed to know what to do.
I watched. The tip of my penis, held steady with one hand, started to penetrate. His hole spreading around it.
It was amazing.
I kept pushing.
He kept pushing back. Even harder.
Then it happened.
The head of my dick slid in, right past his muscle ring.
That had to hurt. He gasped, and tensed up like nobody's business.
I'd hurt him.
I needed to stop this now. I started to pull away.
But then I felt his hands on me, as much as he could reach from his position. Holding tight.
Yet again, my boy surprised me. "Don't you dare!" he said. Huskily. Holding tight.
I wanted to answer. To reason with him.
But he didn't let me. Instead, even though it had to hurt like crazy, he pushed back even more. I slid in, just a touch more.
He was sweating. And tense. His breathing was fast and shallow.
I waited. Not pulling back. Not pushing in. I just waited.
Then, magically, I felt it. He began to relax. Not just his butt, but his whole body. The tension left him.
He nodded, and at the same time pushed back a bit more.
I got the idea.
I pushed in some more. Not much. Then pulled back. Then in again.
I think I rubbed his prostate. He moaned, and shivered. Then pushed harder.
He loosened up slightly. He was still so tight, but not quite as much as before. He was grunting, and moaning. I knew it had to hurt still, but the pleasure was beginning to overwhelm that.
My pleasure, on the other hand, was almost indescribable. Out of this world.
Hot, and tight. The sight alone of my penis, halfway ensconced in him, was enough to make me crazy.
I started pumping.
Each time, I was in a bit deeper, then deeper still.
Soon enough, I was in. All the way.
Unbelievable. My hard dick was all the way up inside Donny's butt. I was fucking him. Right here. Right now. I was fucking Donny.
What a mind blower.
"Are you okay, buddy?" I needed to check.
He just grunted and said, amazingly, "Fuck me, Mike. Just do it."
God, that was hot.
So I fucked him.
I started real slow. But he wasn't having any of that. He pushed back. Faster. Then faster. Then harder.
We were going at it now, in and out. Hard. And fast. I wasn't going to last. I hoped I could make him cum first. He'd better do it fast though. There was just no way I was going to hold out. This was too hot.
He was grunting and moaning. "Oh, Mike," he whined. "Oh!" He came hard. Real hard. "Oh!......oh, oh, oh."
I could feel the pulsing, squeezing my penis. Hard.
His eyes were squeezed shut. He was breathing like a freight train.
That totally set me off. I couldn't last another second.
"Oh, Donny," I yelled. "Oh, I can't believe this. Oh, Donny!" I pumped in, hard, for the last time. I was practically crushing him, my dick tight and deep in his ass. I felt it. I came. Hard. Harder than I had for years. Probably harder than I ever had in my life.
I spurted into him, jet after jet.
I pushed again. The pulsing finally slowed. Then stopped.
We both relaxed a bit, and held still. Catching our breath.
Then I carefully, slowly, pulled back. My softening penis popped out of his now gaping hole.
That would be sore later, I knew.
He was dripping cum, then he farted slightly and more came out. A lot, actually.
He giggled, and scooped up his fallen boxers, holding them to his ass after giving the couch a quick, ineffectual wipe.
I'd have to clean that up later.
I wasn't giggling though. In fact, the thoughts I had firmly pushed away while in my lustful frenzy came roaring back.
What had I done?!
But he just looked at me. Then leaned in. And kissed me. Hard. And sexily.
That helped. I pushed the thoughts away again. For the time being.
He moved his head back. His eyes dancing merrily. He grinned his best grin. "You fucked me," he said.
I was almost shocked. But then I just laughed. How could I not? He was completely incredible. He was. "Yes, Donny. Yes. I don't believe it. But I fucked you," is all I said.
Out lips met for another kiss. Then he scampered off to the bathroom. I knew he needed to.
In his absence though, I had a bit of a harder time wrestling my demons. Though they were, I had to admit, getting a bit easier to tame.
The world's most incredible sexual experience seemed to have a lot to do with that.
He came back out a few minutes later. He walked into the living room with a big grin.
He looked so damned proud of himself. I couldn't help notice he was walking a bit gingerly though.
He sat down, right on my lap, both of us still naked.
He looked at me, then leaned in, and once again, kissed me.
We kissed ravenously, sensuously. Lustily.
It went on and on.
Finally, the kiss ended. I said, "You know, Donny. That was amazing. Incredible. You're incredible. The most incredible boy ever. And I love you. More than I can say."
Now the hard part. The part I needed to say. "But, you know, we can't do that again. We just can't. Though it won't change anything. Don't worry. I won't let it." I hoped that wasn't a lie. I knew though that it would be almost impossible.
Good. I think he understood.
I was hoping he would.
"I know," he said. "I understand." Then he kissed me yet again. "We won't do it again." Another kiss.
Then, the gleam in his eye returned. He pulled back from the kiss, his grin absolutely irrepressible. "Until tomorrow," he said. Then, before I could answer, he pulled me in for another lusty kiss.
I laughed. Right in the middle of the kiss, right into his mouth.
I kept kissing back though. I loved that boy.
I felt my erection, amazingly, again start to press against his butt.
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