Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2001 20:46:58 +0200 From: Lange Subject: a little lamb - chapter one Okay, legal disclaimer: do not read if under 18, not allowed in your area, you are disgusted by such stuff or generally don't like it. you know what, i don't force anybody to read this... Copyright 2001 by n-c-g. all rights reserved. don't post this somewhere without informing me. well and if you MUST post it somewhere, make sure the people don't have to pay for reading it, alright? Hmm...I'd still like to be informed, so drop me a line. although I VERY highly doubt people even like this... The things happening in the story should never, I repeat NEVER happen in real life. this was edited by bill watts. a very huge thanks to bill for all the work. i nearly forgot about this, the title of this story is a line in the song 'walk unafraid' by r.e.m if you want to read other stories by me, either go to my homepage: http://home.t-online.de/home/lange.ruegen or, on nifty: "betrayed love" in young friends - on-going - last posted on April 2nd, 2001 "us" in highschool - finsihed - posted on April 1st, 2001 --------- notes from the author(that's me): it's my very first try on this kind of story. while writing it i sometimes felt quite fine writing it, sometimes i was simply disgusted with myself for writing such sick stuff. in the end...i do feel very okay with the story and i will continue it...i guess. i planned this to be rather short, but hmm...i think it won't be and yeah, before i forget about it, this is no jack-off story, so you can put your cocks back into the confines of your pants. There will be very, very few actual sexual acts, well, to be more precise, there will definitely not be any major sex activity. i know, i know, i probably lost half of the readers right now, but hey, better to warn you now, so you can go off and jack off to some sex story before you waste your precious time by reading everything and be disappointed afterwards. and now, i just stop talking. enjoy the story and i'd really love to hear what you think about it. ---------- ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~ chapter one - my confusion begins There was that kid again. I'd seen him around like everyday in the last...what was it...two months. It was somehow scary, actually. I mean, he *always* seemed to cross my path. This happened nearly everyday and at nearly the same time. Okay, maybe I did have some weird infatuation with him, but after a week or two of these casual contacts, I was really beginning to wonder who that kid is. Hmmm yeah, I admit it. Maybe I am also sexually interested in him. I mean, well...hmm...yeah, I'm gay, okay? And hmm...it's not like I went out to find a boyfriend or something, because...how should I say this...I already had one. But, come on, that doesn't keep me from liking other boys and hey, who knows, maybe I'll be a boy-lover myself when I'm older. You probably wonder where I learned that term 'boy-lover', huh? Well...I have never told anybody about this, but my dad is a boy-lover. Since my mom left us about two years ago, we've become closer and closer until we're like...I guess you'd call it lovers. I know that only a really small percentage of people would think that what we do is okay, but...I don't know...I don't care. It makes me feel good and I don't see why I should like...stop it. My dad and I...well...we are like...having sex and all, and I really love that. Well, actually I was the one who started it. You know, I always wanted to touch him and have him touch me, and it took quite a bit of work to make him believe that's what I really wanted. I can tell ya that he wasn't easy to convince, either. Sex is really great and all, and I wouldn't want to miss it for anything, but admittedly I love it even more when he just holds me, cuddles with me, and when we are kissing. So, that's what we do most of the time now, and sex is really only for very special occasions. I don't know whether my dad is okay with that, but he never, I repeat, *never* forces me to do anything I don't want to do. I guess we get along really great, because we totally trust and, well, love each other. Maybe he'll fall in love with some other boy or boys, once I grow older and become more manly, but I think that will be okay, though. We'll still love each other a lot, because we'll still be father and son, and all, but I think it will also be because we had this deeper love, too. Maybe I'll even find a boyfriend, one my age or maybe even younger, who knows. Besides, nobody can tell how I'll turn out. In fact, maybe I'll grow up to be a boy-lover just like my dad. I really think that might happen, especially seeing how I feel when I looked at that boy. He really is cute. He has fuzzy blonde hair, not that bleached type, but the naturally-flowing, angel-like locks that frame his face rather nicely. He has gorgeous clear, blue eyes, which seem to draw you into their depths. Well, they aren't always that clear, and sometimes I even think they change with his moods. His features are still very much boy-like, but so are mine, I guess. There is not all that much definition to his chest, tummy, arms, or legs, I mean judging from as much as I can see of him, as of yet anyway. Well, I can sometimes see a little more than that, depending on which of the three different types of outfits he is wearing. Okay, you got me there. I guess I really do notice a lot of details about this little guy. Satisfied? Anyway, outfit number one is what I'd call the 'I'm-a- baaad-gangsta-rapper' outfit. It is this 'everything-is-five-sizes-too-large' sort of look. I don't know how such a cute boy can wear such discouraging outfits and, in my opinion, they do nothing for him. Did you notice what I just said...'such a cute boy'? See, something is happening here. I guess I'm changing from a loved boy into a boy-lover. Well, not exactly. We're too close in age for me to be called a boy-lover now, but I think I'll still feel the same way when I get older, liking young boys that is. There might be heaps of people who are gay, but what teen (and I am one...well, I just became one half a year ago) would think of a pre-pubescent kid in a sexual way, like I was doing? Anyway, the second outfit he wears is your normal, average schoolboy outfit. This one probably makes him look the youngest, or let's say the most innocent. No, let's stick to youngest. He looks like he's nine or ten in that one while the other two outfits seem to make him look slightly older. I guess in reality, he must be eleven or twelve, probably eleven 'cause he looks more than a year younger than me. I guess that I do look a bit older than I actually am, and somehow my body is more...defined than his is. By the way, I'm 5'4" and the kid is about 4'9", I suppose. Wait, I haven't told you about his third kind of outfit yet. It's the 'I-can-make- you-so-hot' look. Well, more or less. To get this look, he wears really tight- fitting stuff, clothes that really show off his body. It's as if he knows exactly what he is doing to other people. I mean, it really makes me stare at him when he wears something like that, especially after he passes by me and I can enjoy the 'rear' view. He just has such a cute bum...I mean really cute! I know it sounds like I'm all hot, tight, and drooling for him, which I am not. First of all, I love my dad too much to go off with somebody else, especially someone I only know from looking at them, although this kid somehow tempted me. Second, sure I do notice how he looks every time I see him, but hmmm, I'm not as obsessed about his looks now, as I had been in the beginning - like the first two weeks or so. Since then, I've thought about him more as a whole person, rather than just as some object to drool over. (That's one main aspect of love, isn't it? Not to drool, but to see the person behind the facade. Yep, I guess I have learned quite a bit from life already). This whole thing began with me just looking at his face, trying to read the different emotions there. I even worked up the courage, after another month or so, to smile at him from time to time, but he never reacted. He always got that vacant look on his face, even if he seemed cheerful otherwise. This made me worry for some reason. Isn't it weird that you can get all worked up (not in a sexual way!) about some boy (or it could be any other person, too), only because you happened to meet them on the street everyday? Isn't it weird how you begin to wonder what that person's name is, what they're doing all day long, where they live, why they are going exactly the same way you are, and why you can't stop staring at them? I sure as hell (oops, sorry!) do. I mean, what does that kid do there the whole day, being all alone each time, and where is he going? He definitely isn't going to school, because the local school, the one that I go to, is in the same direction I'm heading, but I'd always seen him going in the opposite direction...well, you get the picture. So every time he comes along, I begin to wonder anew about all those things. Even though I might want to, I can never work up the courage to actually stop him and talk to him. I'm just too shy and maybe a little frightened. I don't even know him after all, and who knows how he might react? Geez, this sounds like some first-love story, doesn't it? Well, it isn't, okay? Well, not quite, anyway. Well, maybe it is...ahhhh, I don't know. Whatever. Today that kid looks extra-seductive. He has those tiny, black leather shorts on, with sparkling stripes down the sides. His shirt is black as well, which gives me the impression that he must be hot as hell in those clothes (hot as like, there was a whole lot of sun out today, okay?) What is by far the cutest thing about him is that you can actually see his erect nipples, thanks to the tight shirt. Well, I can't really say his nipples were his best feature, 'cause in those leather shorts...hmm, let's just say they made me turn around and stare for a while. So, today he looks extraordinarily, outrageously cute, but at the same time, I see an extraordinarily, outrageously sad look in his eyes, which I notice when his eyes meet mine for...well, I guess for the very first time. It's that look in his eyes, and not his appearance, that makes me stop dead in my tracks the second the kid starts to pass. Suddenly the burning desire to get to know him comes over me again, but if you think I'll make an attempt to stop him, you're greatly mistaken. I already mentioned before that I would never have the guts to just go up to that kid and start talking to him. After all, I would have no reason to do that, so there's no way I would. That's just not the way I am, and I can't just change overnight. Anyway, I didn't talk to the kid, but my mind was working in high gear, just taking in everything detail about him while he was close. I was going to have to tell my dad about this. Looking at everything, it seems very strange to me that I care so much for a boy I don't even really know. Still, even if it is only to help this kid - if he needs help, that is, then I'm willing to do it. I just feel that I have to do something. Okay, maybe I do feel attracted to that boy...who knows, but I'm positive that I'm going to talk with my dad about this, though. Actually, I'm beginning to realize I'm really head-over-heels in love with this kid, and he should be the first to know, being my intended lover and all. So, I come up with a plan. I take one last look over my shoulder, just to watch him stroll along the sidewalk, as I loved to see him make all those little wiggling motions with his bum. Strangely enough, I was not sexually aroused by this, though generally I think I should have been. Sorry everybody, I know I'm sending mixed signals about how I feel about this boy and what might happen between us, but I can't help it. Okay? I just want to be as accurate as possible about how I feel about him at this time, and I do have many different feelings and emotions to cope with. I just need some extra time to work all this out for myself, to figure out what I'm going to do next. I just hope he doesn't disappear before I make up my mind. So here I am, attracted to the boy, but not sexually aroused. So what does that mean? Does it mean I am or am not interested in him as a possible boyfriend? I guess I'll have to talk to my dad about this before the day is over. Hmm, this day is far from over, as it's still morning and all, so I'll have to wait to see what my dad suggests. I know that's all I'll be thinking about all day, making the day seem to last forever, but surprisingly it passes rather quickly, and I am on my way home before I know it. I don't even think all that much about the kid while I'm heading home. Sure he might still have been somewhere in the back of my mind, in the file with 'DO NOT FORGET' written on it, but as always I am really excited to be going home, knowing my dad would be already there and waiting to welcome me. Knowing this always gave me a tingling feeling all over and made me nearly hop along the street, straining to get home as soon as possible. Today, however, I didn't want...sex (that sounds gross, being said that way!), but I just wanted to kiss and cuddle. That's what I mostly want anyway. Sure, going all the way feels great too, don't get me wrong, it's just that I like the other stuff more. (I *have* already mentioned that part, haven't I?). Everybody should do what they like and, well, some guys even like to do it with animals. Now, that's really gross, but people can be weird, can't they? Do they really think animals enjoy doing things like that with people? Ahhhh, I don't think so... I turn the key in the lock, step in, and close the door behind me, then my dad embraces me from behind. Automatically, a smile creeps across my face and I turn slowly to meet him. He smiles too and bends down until both of our heads are on the same level. The second I can reach his mouth, I have my lips planted firmly on his, and my tongue sneaks out to trace the lines of his mouth. I feel him smile at me now, and then he slowly opens his mouth to let me in. The familiar taste, his taste, welcomes me and I feel, well, at home, I guess. I sling my arms around his neck and feel him lifting me up and cradling me like a baby. He always does that, every day, and I love it. While he carries me into the living room, I discard my backpack, leaving it somewhere along the way there. He stands in front of the sofa and gently lowers me onto it, with our lips still sealed. I open my eyes and reach up to touch his cheek and trace his jaw-line with my hands. He is so...manly. I guess that's the way to put it. So strong and big and...he loves me. Realizing that I am still kissing him very passionately, I can still feel him lowering me onto the soft cushion. It was...just perfect. You know, it's hard to describe it. Sure, while he is doing this, he is also kissing me back, touching my face, and caressing my bare tummy. Then he slides my shirt up, above my chest, and starts working on my nipples. This all feels really great, but...I don't know. This will probably sound all corny or something, but just knowing that I'm loved by him, my dad and the greatest man alive, it makes me feel so special. After all, I am just a kid (well, his son, sure, but still only some kid), and it all feels so incredible to me, so unbelievable...and so great. I just can't describe the feeling. It is by far the best feeling around, a combination of the best of everything, just knowing I'm being loved. And hehe, of course I don't mind the attention he gives to me and to my body. I know, I know, I should be well...kinda used to it by now, considering that we've been lovers for two years already, but every time we are together, I still get the all over tingling feeling again, and that warmth spreads out over my body, starting from wherever he touches me. Once I am laying on the couch completely, he lowers himself onto me, careful not to crush me. I guess he might crush me if he put all his weight on me, but he would never hurt me, not if he could prevent it. I simply knew that. The same way I would never hurt him. Our lips lose their connection and he just looks down at me. I smile up at him, but it must look somehow shy or...seductive...or hmm, maybe just weird? Well, if I had done it consciously, I would have wanted it to look seductive, but I don't think that's how my dad saw it. He gives a little chuckle and then he mocks me, screwing up his face to make it look like mine. I hate it when he does that to me. I always feel so small then, so child-like, like a little boy. But hey, I am still a boy, I am *his* boy. That did not keep me from starting to cry, and I look away from him, hoping he won't notice what I'm doing. I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and I think it's strange that I'm doing this. I know that I don't want to cry and that it would make him sad if he's sees that I am crying, but I also realize I can't stop crying. He puts his hand under my chin and turns my head slowly. I try to keep him from doing this, as I don't want to look him in the eye, but he doesn't let me get away with that. "Look at me, baby," he says to me softly. Timidly, I glance in his direction, then he continues. "Babe, I don't want to hurt you, either physically or psychologically. I'm sorry if I did. I love you." "I love you too, dad. But...what is that psy...or that other thing?" He chuckles again, catching himself when he sees my eyes watering and a new gush of tears begin to roll down my cheeks. He tenderly brushes them from my face with his thumb, while replying to my question. "Physically, it would hurt here." He taps my legs, arms, tummy, and then gives my balls and dick a slow brush, which makes me squeal in delight. "And psychologically, it would hurt here..." He taps first against my forehead and then he sneaks his hand under my shirt and puts it on my chest, directly above my heart. "...and here." "Cool." "Cool, huh?" My dad begins to tickle me all over and it's not long before I beg him to stop. I mean, it's such typical 'Dad' behavior. Fathers always think kids want to be tickled. Grown-ups out there, take my advice, it's not always the best thing to tickle some kid. Well...hmm...I can't say I didn't enjoy it though. Well, I guess my dad didn't really enjoy having to change his pants after he finally finished giving me his tickle torture. I did...hmm...pee on him, you know 'cause you know, it's really like, if he doesn't stop and all, it gets really hard to hold it back]and all and well, then it just flows...and all...is wet. So, he didn't even notice it at first, not until the wet patch on his pants had obviously reached his groin and he begins to feel it. Now he looks shocked, then a smile begins to creep over his face. I smile back at him...a little sheepishly, and I chirp in my highest boy-voice, "Sorry, Daddy." He laughs, lifts me, and carries me into the bathroom. He peels off my pants, although I insist that I do it myself. Parents! You know, on one hand they have sex with you and on the other hand they don't even trust you enough to let you undress yourself.](I'm just kidding here, but I just want to point that out. My Dad never, ever forces anything upon me or makes me do anything I don't want to. I just think I should mention that once again.). He then leaves me standing in the bathroom, while he goes to fetch some new pants for me. Well, I for one would have been happy to stay in the nude, but hmm...parents! My dad doesn't return right away and, somehow, my hand unconsciously moves downward and I start playing with my rapidly swelling dick. As I continue to stimulate it, it continues to grow until it reaches it's full length. And come on, don't give me that. It's natural for a guy to start fingering his dick when he's all alone and naked, isn't it? Well, at least my dad told me it's natural. He'd said that I should have learned that in school, in my sex education classes, but, seeing I hadn't, that just supported what I always say. School is a complete...waste of time! You really learn nothing about important things. Sure, you learn about 'good' touches and 'bad' touches, but I'm more than sure that they never experienced the joy I did from these kinds of touches. I'm all wrapped up in what I'm doing, when my Dad comes back with a new pair of pants in his hand, smiling to himself when he sees me playing with my dick, while looking at my reflection in the mirror. He tries to take off my shirt, but this time I'm fast enough to stop him. I might be his boy, but I'm not a baby "Dad! I can do this by myself." He looks a bit...hmmm...disappointed I guess, so I flash him a smile and kiss his tummy. (He had discarded his shirt somewhere near the couch, probably when he went for my underwear). I look up to see his reaction and ta-daa, he smiles. I got the reaction that I want. I step into the shower to rinse my pee off, and my dad helps me. No, no, no, it's not what you're thinking. We did nothing sexual. We never did anything besides kissing or little touches 'in public' places. Well, let's say we had our rules: 'in public' was everything that wasn't 'in bed'. And 'in bed' did not happen every time we were lying in bed. It was something far too precious to waste I know, people might disagree and everything, but I have my views on things and you have yours. I am content to be held by my dad, my lover, during the night and I don't necessarily need those extra things. Of course, it's really great when it does happen, but my dad makes sure that it's always me who starts it...you know...he always waits for me to tell him that I'm ready for it. That is our basic rule. We never hurt eachone another. Never, ever. Anyway, so I take this bath and he just scrubs me real gently with a washcloth, making sure I am clean all over, then he ends my shower by rubbing my dick and sack lightly. I feel shivers all over my body, but he stops almost as soon as he starts, leaving me somewhat frustrated. I begin to pout, but instead of recognizing it, he places a light kiss on my lips and holds a huge towel open for me to step into. Parents are *so* good at ignoring kids. Aargh! Well, the way he rubs me all over with that towel soon makes me forget about my pouting. He rolls me up in the towel, lifts me up again, carries me into the kitchen, and sets me on a chair there. He kneels before me and kisses me very softly, like he's afraid I might break if he uses too much pressure. I have no chance to respond to his actions, like touching him or fighting against what he is doing, as I am being restrained by that towel (and no, I won't say it again. I have said it often enough already.) So, all I can do is to try and suck his tongue into my mouth, and that's exactly what I do. YEAH! He brings one of his hands around my back to steady me while his other hand starts playing with my hair. He brushes it out of my face and tousles the hair at the back of my head. It feels *so* nice. I know I am really lucky to be that loved and to have my body that appreciated, but I frown when I remember something I had seen on TV not long ago, about some boy about my age who sold his body to rich men. It was disgusting and everything, selling himself that way. Still...hmm...I don't know if he did that only for the money or if he did it to feel the types of things I feel for my dad. I *could* understand it if he was seeking love from someone, but I doubted very much that a bunch of strange men could give him the type of love he was looking for. All in all, it still seems kind of disgusting to me, especially when they tell how those men take pictures and videos of what they do with him. That isn't right. My dad would never do that to me. Talking about my dad, he must have noticed my thoughtful expression or my sudden distraction from our kissing, so he now looks at me questioningly. I figure I better tell him what is on my mind. "I'm only thinking about that thing we saw on TV the other day, about that boy, you know. I'm just thinking how lucky I am to have you, and how scared I would be if I were that boy." "Yes, baby, you do have me and I won't let anyone do that to you, ever, if you don't want them to. I don't want to see you hurting, my little one." "I know, Dad." Now I begin to have another thought. As long as we are talking about all this serious stuff, maybe I should also bring up the kid, and tell him what I'm feeling about him. But how? I just can't go up to him and say, 'You know dad, I see this kid every day and he's real cute. I think I might be in love with him.' I don't think I can tell my dad about that boy without hurting him...so, what am I going to do? "Dad?" "Hm?" "What will happen to us, well, if one of us like falls in love with, you know...somebody else?" "Is there anybody in particular you're thinking of, babe?" Dang, this was typical for a parent to do, trying to avoid the question by asking you one, and assuming you wouldn't ask it if it weren't already so. But then...he was right, wasn't he? Although I didn't even know the kid, he did have me thinking about loving someone other than my dad. He was like...only a face in the crowd or something, but still he was making me think about having a relationship with him. Could what I feel for him possibly be love? I mean, what I feel for him is totally different from what I feel for my dad, so can that be considered 'love'? Hell (sorry!) I can't even imagine being intimate with that kid, like I am with my dad. Heck, I only know him from the street, so why am I bringing this topic up anyway? "No dad, honestly. There is nobody else. I only love you." "I only love you too, baby. More than anything."