Disclaimer: This story is fiction, though there's no way I or anyone else can prove one way or another. Either way, whatever gets you off. If you're not supposed to be reading, don't. Like I can stop you. Comments and questions always welcome to firstname.lastname@example.org
I'd like to start with some profound narrative about life handing you surprises or discovering love in the most unusual of places, but this didn't really happen like that. It was just something that happened, a moment shared between two people, some mutual pleasure. If you get off thinking it's real, take your cock in your hand and go for it. If thinking it's fiction really gets your blood boiling, more power to you. I'm just going to write some words and you can decide for yourself.
I'm a trucker by trade, if not exactly by choice. I was in dire straits a few years back when I made the (seemingly insane) decision that I was going to go to school for my CDL, thinking it would be a cool direction in which to take my life. I'd gone quite a few years without any kind of real purpose, mainly doing what I could to get by and not really minding where it took me. But trucking offered the opportunity to go places, with benefits, and if I could acquire the skills it took I might be able to get a job.
Well, the education came easily enough, though I learned to drive a ten-gear Eaton transmission before I'd learned a standard stick in your average car. Not that I shied away from manuals, mind you; I'd just never had the opportunity to learn.
Passing my exam and getting my license was a breeze, as was recruitment into one of those trucking companies you see all over the road. I'd tell you the color of their trailer but I don't want to give myself away. Besides, after being screwed over by a couple of the big dogs I was able to secure a position with a smaller outfit transporting construction equipment all over the country. A couple years of this and I ended up selling my house, using the cash for a brand-new Peterbilt 389. My boss pooh-poohed me for not choosing something more aerodynamic, but I think we both knew I chose the longnose so I wouldn't have to go to Canada.
But long story short, I drive over the road in the lower forty-eight delivering and picking up large machinery. Not the most glamorous job, but it really suits my lifestyle. Some people think spending my days trapped in a cab would become a claustrophobic nightmare, but it's the independence of the road that really attracts me. I have my money, my truck and my Internet. And when I come close enough to visit family or friends, we make it work. And if we don't, well, it's not like I'm never coming back to that part of the country again.
You aren't here to read about my life story. Unless you're an idiot (click back now) or a cop (good luck trying to prove any of this happened) you're here because there's a kid involved. And there was. At least that's what I'm telling you; it's up to you to whether or not to believe me. For the purposes of the law, this story is fiction. For the rest of you, think what you will. Maybe I can weave it well enough to be convincing.
So let's start at the beginning, or as close to a beginning as I think appropriate.
Sparks, Nevada is like Reno's fraternal twin brother. It's located just to the east and north of Reno, and shares an idiosyncratic border. Sometimes you don't even know when you've passed from one into the other, and really there's no big difference.
I'd started out in North Platte, Nebraska, hauling parts of a combine to someone in Mesa Verde, Colorado who'd bought them. Then I'd dead-headed west to Elko where a Gradall was waiting for an emergency delivery to a new middle school that was going up in Sparks. So there you have it, the setting for this little encounter.
The construction crew needed the machine by noon (they wouldn't be arriving until two or three, my dispatcher had said), but I decided to start my day early and drop it off around nine. This was around August, and the school was just beginning to take shape beyond its metal skeleton. The place was easy enough to find since it was the only construction site around.
I pulled in the rear entrance and stopped once I was relatively centered. I'd have plenty of room to maneuver the Gradall off the trailer and into place without foiling my own exit from the dusty yard. Setting the brakes and unbuckling, I stepped down and out into an already-warm day. Felt like it might actually hit triple digits, but I'd be out of there and on my way back up into the Rockies for my next load before afternoon. Thank God for air conditioning.
Around the half-finished school the air was quiet. Almost too quiet for a neighborhood that was still in the throes of summer vacation. I heard neither kids nor birds nor much traffic at all. The sky was a pale blue, clear and bright even this early on. With a sigh I stepped back up to the cab to retrieve my gloves.
Strapping and unstrapping a piece of machinery is more difficult than it looks. There's the placement of the equipment, strapping points, hooks, torque, all that manly stuff about force and tension. You have to secure the thing to the trailer from underneath, and then you have to throw straps over it as an added measure. Chain straps under, belt straps over. It's about a fifteen-minute job to get everything undone so you can move your load.
I had undone the belts and was in the process of rolling them up and putting them into my sideboxes when I first saw him out of the corner of my eye. How he'd rolled up on his bike without me noticing I can't be sure, but I didn't give him much notice besides that casual adult glance of mild curiosity. I just kept on doing my work, no bother there.
The second time I saw him I got a better look. Anywhere between ten and thirteen, kind of short, nice amount of baby fat still around his middle and rump. Yeah, I'm one of those. I like to look, and I know what I'm seeing. I knew he was definitely watching me, which gave me a kind of smug satisfaction that I was remotely interesting to him. A man doing a man's work. I'm kind of a man's man, too: masculine features, average body if overweight, nothing special. At least I didn't think so until this kid...I'm ahead of myself.
I finished with the belts and moved on to the chains, watching him in my periphery as I went. I glanced his way a couple times but he seemed neither frightened nor emboldened by the move. It wasn't until I moved around to the other side of the trailer to ratchet them up that he said anything. There he was, to the side of his bike, just watching. And when I started on the first chain he came up to me.
“Hi,” he said. Just like that.
“Hello,” I replied, trying to sound like a mature adult. I may be thirty-seven, but I don't really feel it.
“Whatcha doin'?” Pretty damn cute. He heeled the kickstand of his bike down and angled it until it rested securely.
“Delivering this thing to the jobsite. Speaking of which, I don't think you're allowed inside the fence.”
“I don't go in the fence, usually,” he said. “I just wanted to see what you were doing.” Apparently this kid didn't know much about the concept of stranger danger. I'm not dangerous, per se, lucky for him.
I rolled up the first strap and shuffled down to pull the second through the wheels of the Gradall. He didn't move. Whether bold or oblivious, I couldn't tell. “What're you doing?” I shot back at him, actually getting a good look this time around. Medium brown hair, or maybe dark blond to some of you. Hazel eyes, clear complexion. I'm not going to go into some long-winded angelic description. He was a good-looking kid. Yeah, I plumped up a little, but that's why you're reading this story, isn't it?
My day just got a little more interesting. Fine with me.
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Wanted to know what you were doing. Do you do this for your job?”
No, I do this because it's fun, I thought. “Well, yeah. I don't think I would do it if I didn't get paid.”
“What's the thing you're undoing?” he asked, referring to the machine, not the straps.
“That's a Gradall.”
“I know that, I can see the name on the side.”
“It's a telescoping-boom truck. It's like a forklift, only bigger and it can lift heavier things.” I looked around, spotting a concrete-washout container. “See that big thing over there?”
He followed my gaze. “Yeah.”
“Well,” I continued, “This machine can take its forks and slide them under that thing, and lift it up to the roof of the school. Once the school has a roof.” I didn't mention the fact that a concrete washout had no business on top of any building whatsoever.
“Woooow,” murmured the kid, kind of melodramatically but it seemed like a genuine reaction. “My dad runs a cons...construction company too. It's not the one that's doing the school but they have Bobcats. They do stuff on people's houses.”
“Ah, okay,” I nodded. “Residential stuff.” He nodded back and I moved on to the next straps. He stayed close, asking questions here and there, mostly stuff I could answer fairly easily. In order to not seem overly creepy, I didn't say anything else. I preferred to remain reactive instead of proactive. Too many questions would seem suspicious if this kid was street-smart after all, and he was providing me a nice distraction from the monotony of my job. I was also working faster than normal; before I knew it the straps were away and it was time to move the Gradall.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he said, “I'm going to this school when it opens up next month.” He was smiling like this was something to be particularly proud of, being one of the first students in a new building. I know the feeling from my own youth, so I couldn't really fault him. It's a cool feeling. It's a special feeling.
I stopped to face him, hands on my hips, grinning. “Oh yeah? What grade?”
“Sixth,” he replied, looking a little smaller now.
“So, you're about eleven, am I right?”
He smiled. “Just turned eleven, yeah! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” That whole add-five-years-to-the-grade thing, assuming everyone enters kindergarten at five.
“You gonna take it off now?”
I looked at him sidelong with what I thought was a flirty glance. “My clothes, or that machine?” And damned if he didn't blush all over and sputter! It was a fairly harmless comment, a boys-will-be-boys comment, but it looked to have flustered him quite a bit. I plumped up a little more, glad he wouldn't be able to tell because of the jock I wear. I caught him glancing down, though, which was cuter than hell.
“Lemme go get the key and you can watch me drive it a little bit. How about that?” I asked. He nodded emphatically before his expression clouded over slightly. He looked like he wanted to ask me something but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. “What?”
“Can I come with?” he blurted out, looking up at me with eager eyes. He folded his hands in front of his crotch and just stood there. He was still blushing. Either he was that naïve or he was up to something. I couldn't really tell.
“Come with, as in, in my truck?”
“I never saw one before. On the inside.”
“I don't even know your name.”
I was nonplussed. There he was, standing in the rising Nevada morning sun in his Phineas & Ferb t-shirt and jean shorts, kicking dust around only to have it land right back on his shoes.
“Rick.” He offered his small hand and I took it, shook it twice. “It's nothing special. It's just a truck.” But the expression on his face told me there was no way you could convince a kid that the beast sitting silently behind me was Just A Truck. To him it was like a gigantic toy, something that looked like what could be sitting in his room, except on a massive scale. Of course, who wouldn't be curious?
But there was something else to that look. I thought I knew what it was, but I just let that thought die for the time being. There was no good reason not to let him see; nothing in there that would get me in trouble. Nothing visible, at least. Even so, I did a quick check for any security cameras that might capture our sojourn. Oddly enough there were none. I wouldn't call it my mind being in the gutter as much as wanting to be able to explain letting a kid in my cab when the cameras could only tell one story.
“Only if you want to,” I said noncommittally, to which Gabe jumped a couple times and giggled excitedly. I was on my last strap anyway, so what would be the harm?
“Yeah, yeah!” Gabe squealed. Man, that was cute! I made him wait until the strap was away before motioning for him to follow me. He leaned his bike against the fuel tank and I opened the door. He looked at me funny. “I go first?”
“You might trip or something. I don't want you getting hurt.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay,” he replied, as if mulling this over as important facts to consider. He grabbed a rail and hoisted himself up into the driver's seat, looking practically tiny compared to the wheel and switchgear in the truck. I let him pretend-drive for a few moments before suggesting he move to the passenger seat.
I got in and closed the door. Gabe squirmed every which way, trying to look at all the knobs and dials and handles at once. Sitting back with my arms crossed, I just observed and marveled at his curiosity, wondering at the same time when, along the line, I had become complacent (and dare I say jaded) in my own life. Then again, I looked at this dashboard every day of my life, so it was hard not to get complacent.
I'd go into detail about the conversation we had up there, the questions Gabe asked, but it wouldn't be very interesting. Suffice it to say I showed him how everything worked, though I don't know how much of it he understood or retained. He thought the CB was cool, of course, and he thought it was nifty that I had an alarm when my air brakes were low, although when I tried to explain why I braked with air he got a vacant look.
All in all, like I said, it was pretty cute.
We both stared out the windshield, staring at the half-finished school, watching the world go by. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him fidgeting slightly. He was trying to look nonchalant, but he really, truly failed at it. I could tell he had a question, and I was pretty sure what that question was. He wanted to see the back without it sounding weird.
I waited for him, though. I don't know if he had something on his mind, but I wasn't about to suggest anything.
Finally, he said it for me: “Would it be okay, um, if I saw the back? Where you sleep?”
“I don't see why not,” I said matter-of-factly. “It's part of the truck, and you wanted to see all of the truck, right?” Gabe nodded emphatically.
When I parted the curtain and followed him in, I realized I'd made a pretty big mistake: the sleeper was heady with the scent of me and my sleep. It hadn't been aired out yet, and while I could smell my sheets and musk, I didn't know if Gabe would interpret it that way. He wasn't wrinkling his nose or anything, so it was anyone's guess.
It wasn't a super sleeper, nothing fancy by any means, but it was room enough for a man to do what a man on the road does: Internet, television, sleep, jack off, fuck. It smelled of a few of those things, and the thought of being in here with a kid, right next to where I did my personal business many times a day, got me fluffed up a bit again. Don't know how else to explain it, maybe I was just horny. Maybe I was actually attracted to him. He was cute, but beyond that I don't know.
Either way, I don't regret what happened.
As soon as the curtain draped back closed, I toggled the light on. Gabe grinned up at me as if we were sharing some illicit secret, which, in fact, we kind of were. We were both aware that this wasn't something a man and a boy did together, and I could see it on his face. I didn't interpret it as anything special, but it was the first indication that he knew more than I gave him credit for. Whether he was actively trying to seduce me I'll never know because I never asked him straight-out. Doesn't really matter now, though, does it?
“Wow,” he murmured, making a slow circle, trying to take it all in. It must have seemed, to him, like some great romantic career or something. It has its moments, but it really is just a job. He sat on the edge of the bed, right next to an old cum stain from earlier in the week when I'd been using my Fleshlight and pulled out to shoot. “So, this is like your home?”
I nodded. “I have an apartment, but I'm not there much so this is more of a home to me.”
“How often do you go back home?” he asks.
“Maybe three times a year, for a week or so,” I reply after thinking about it. It's been a good couple of months since I've seen my place. Not that there's anything of big value to steal. My housekeeper's the only one with a key, and she only cleans the place when I'm due for a visit.
“Nobody steals your stuff?”
“Not yet. There's a security system.” There follows an awkward silence wherein neither of us knows what to say. So, equally as awkwardly, I continue the natural flow of things: “Anything you wanted to ask about?”
“What's in the cabinets?” Gabe points to the doors opposite my little flat-screen television. I don't hesitate to open them up to show their contents: a couple bags of potato chips, some assorted DVDs (no porn, that's on the laptop) and my bag of toiletries. Glancing at it, I can see a couple of condoms just underneath, strays from a bowl at a truck-stop adult theater. They'd come in handy that night.
Gabe looked disappointed. “Nothing special. What did you expect?”
“Nothing. Guess, just clothes and movies and stuff you use on the road.”
“That's pretty much it,” I said. “I have satellite TV for when I want to watch it, and a laptop for Internet when I need to use it. I keep track of my paychecks and fuel and everything on there with a special program.”
“Neat! Can I see?”
“Oh, it would bore you to death,” I said. I doubted he would enjoy looking through a spreadsheet of my earnings, miles traveled and gallons burned. He was eleven! How could that have been entertaining?
“No, I really wanna see,” he said, reaching back to grab for the laptop. For a moment I thought he would open the thing up (which wouldn't matter, it was password-protected) but instead he handed it to me, smiling slightly. I could see the hope in his eyes. It was a desperate kind of hope, but I wasn't quite sure of the reason for it.
“You're playing with me,” I deadpanned. His expression didn't change, though color flushed up from his shirt into his cheeks. He looked behind my right shoulder, toward the chips. Behind my left shoulder, toward the front of the cab. If I'd been holding my laptop in both hands I wouldn't have bothered to look down, but since that wasn't the case I happened to drop my gaze. I saw the little tent in his shorts moments before what happened, happened.
Should I have known? Who cares?
He bent forward and took the laptop out of my grip, setting it to the side before putting both of his hands on my belt, fumbling clumsily at the buckle. In the time it took me to realize what he was doing the belt was already undone and he was going for my fly. I slapped his hands away. He yelped and jerked backwards while I took a similar step behind, separating us. His flush had drained; now he looked pallid and horrified.
“What the fuck're you doing?” I asked, sounding more angry than I felt, surely. I probably looked the same way, because Gabe had crawled his way to the back of the bunk, where he huddled, watching me. Suddenly this had turned very bad in a number of ways. Gabe wasn't looking entirely at me, more over me, and for the first time I felt the instant erection I'd sprouted and knew he could see it just as easily as I had seen his.
“I dunno,” he squeaked.
“What do you mean, you don't know?” I countered in a much more measured voice. “You start undoing a guy's pants and you don't know what you're doing?”
“I...” Gabe started. “I'm sorry.”
“Not good enough. Kids don't just—hey!” Gabe launched himself off the bed and tried to sail past my leg. What was he thinking, that he could somehow just glide by without me trying to stop him? Needless to say, my arm was out to catch him. He ran chest-first into my forearm, let out a small oof and gasped when I tossed him back onto my bed. I was on him in a second, looming my larger body over his, trying not to seem intimidating or predatory.
I stood up again, hands on my hips in what I thought was a disapproving posture. “I'm not mad, but I deserve an explanation.” By this point I hoped his explanation would be what I expected it to be, and not some half-assed pseudo-innocent reply.
“I didn't mean anything!” Gabe wailed, though he was far from crying. He looked closer to defiance.
“What do you mean, you didn't mean anything? I would think that, at eleven years old, even you would know that what you just tried to do means something. At the very least it doesn't mean nothing.” I crossed my arms again and stood straight, blocking the doorway. On the bed, Gabe continued to stare at me. Judging me. Analyzing me, like a trapped faun will analyze a wolf before making its attempt to flee. But Gabe had nowhere to flee, other than the small side door, which would take longer to unlatch than it would take me to just lean over and pull him back by his leg.
I watched his face melt from fear to a kind of immature confidence. He didn't smile, but he set his face. “You know.”
“I know what?”
“You know what it was!” he accused, sitting up and crossing his legs stiffly.
“No, Gabe, I'm sorry, I'm really not sure what it was. You see, I have suspicions of what it was, but I need you to tell me so I can confirm them or forget them.” He didn't like being told to air his dirty little thoughts. But I had a feeling, and I wanted him to say it. If he had been bold enough to try and fish my dick out, he could at least do me the favor of saying the words.
I was still hard, and he knew it. He couldn't help looking at it. So was he, and he saw me watching him right back.
“I wanna suck your dick,” he finally said.
“That's what I thought,” I replied emotionlessly. This clearly wasn't going the way he might have planned, as much as he'd planned it. I tried to think about what he'd said, how he'd acted when he'd first come up to me. With the perfect vision of hindsight, it seemed pretty clear it wasn't a standard case of curious boy.
“You happy now?” Gabe pouted, his lips a thin pink line on his otherwise flawless face.
“Not really,” I said. “I kind of want to know why, besides the obvious, you thought it would be a good idea to try and blow a grown man you just met.” Realizing how I must look, I ducked and sprawled out on the bunk, facing him. My cock shifted behind my jeans to a more comfortable position, pressed up against my pubic hair under my belly instead of confined like one of those party snakes in a can. He followed it the whole way down, and I almost smiled at that. But I had to maintain some air of adult maturity. “Come on, Gabe. Even if I were to refuse, I'd want an explanation.”
Gabe's face lit up, if only for a split second. His little tent flexed.
I lay my head on my arm as he spoke. “Online, there's a guy I'm talking to. He's older.”
“Dang. You like 'em old, don'tcha?” He shot me daggers and I shut up.
“I heard about it from one of my friends. He was in this chat room one day, like a year ago. Some guy started talking to him about sex stuff. He wanted to pay to see my friend on camera. So he did, and, like, he made twenty bucks.”
I nodded. This wasn't unheard of, especially nowadays with the Internet being what it is. I was surprised that it was so easy to chat up kids so frankly without being caught. “And what happened then?”
“He started doing it once a week. And then it was more until it was every night.”
“Money, every night?”
“The guy...the older guy...he would invite his friends over for the shows and they would pool their money. He's been doing it a long time, but he says it's harder now that his dad got laid off and he's home most of the time. But he just got a new iPad, but he has to hide it.” Gabe wouldn't look at me now, and I wondered if he was feeling conscientious about the information he was sharing.
I continued. “So, where do you fit in? Have you done shows?”
Gabe blushed furiously.
“A couple,” he said, shifting around. “My friend told me where to go and a couple words I was supposed to use to get attention.”
“'Chicken.'” Chickens and chicken-hawks. Yes, I'd heard of those before. Usually it referred to men who chased twentysomethings around, but if it worked for these kids, there must be something else going on. No point in digging more deeply than Gabe could understand. I still wasn't sure he knew exactly what he'd been trying to get himself into.
“So you tried it out. And you liked it.”
“Yeah, I liked it,” Gabe said, his bangs obscuring his eyes. “Why wouldn't I like it?”
“A lot of kids your age aren't even thinking about sex yet.”
He looked up. “Really?”
“Really really,” I nodded, smiling. “I bet you haven't even hit puberty yet.” He blushed at this and he did smile back, and just like that the ice was broken. He wasn't indignant about it, which I liked. Suddenly I wanted to find out whether it was true. My hand went to cover myself, but I realized it looked more like I was grabbing for it, so I just moved my arm on down.
“I...kinda did it on a dare,” mumbled Gabe. “This guy Walter, he started talking to me. He started saying things that made me feel awesome.”
“Yeah, but you don't know if he was being truthful or just trying to gain your trust so you could meet him or something.”
He contemplated this, his face clouding with worry. “Like in the videos they showed us in school. Where they're looking for a puppy and drive away with you.”
“Kind of. In real life they usually do it over a long period of time so you trust them more, so it's harder to say no when they want to do stuff to you.”
“What if you like it?”
“You've done it before?”
“No...” Wow, the kid's boner was gone. I must have struck the logical part of his brain a little too hard with the truth. Now he was thinking with his head instead of his glans.
“Nothing?” He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. He was pretty forward for a virgin. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Why, did someone tell you otherwise?”
“Well,” Gabe said, his voice softer as he fiddled with his fingers, “Walter says I'm 'Much too pretty to go to waste.'”
I shuddered. The guy sounded like a creepy Internet pedo. I mean, yes, I was having thoughts about letting this boy suck my cock, but...somehow it wasn't the same. “Where does he live?”
“Truckee.” Jesus. Less than an hour away.
I stared seriously at him. “I bet he's asked to meet you, hasn't he?”
“Mhm. That's bad, isn't it?”
“All I can say is, it doesn't sound good to me. He doesn't sound safe.”
“As safe as being trapped in a truck?”
“Hey now,” I scolded, but only barely. “You dived for my pants, remember? I had to push you off.” Thinking about it got me straining against my fly. The enthusiasm he'd shown...
“It was Walter who told me to take a chance. He said that guys in park bathrooms and truckers would be horny all the time. They would wanna play.”
“I can't vouch for other truckers,” I said, “but I'm not horny all the time.” Fat lot of good that was doing me, with my pants as tight as they were.
“But you look like it,” Gabe pointed out, grinning.
“I'm sorry! You started it!”
“Yeah, but you wouldn't let me when I wanted to!” he shouted back.
“Like you don't want to now,” I said, leading him on purpose.
“So what? You wouldn't let me anyway,” he said, following.
“Yes, I would.” He stopped dead. He hadn't been following. He believed he didn't have a chance. I watched, bemused, as his shorts sprang back up to full attention, stretching the material so tightly I could see the outline of his little balls. Making a show of licking my lips, I added, “If you would let me reciprocate.”
“Uh...whuh?” As if in a trance, he shook his head. “What's that?”
“Return the favor.” I put my hand to my crotch and gave it a nice long squeeze, outlining my shaft. It was one of those things that had to be done, to just kind of keep the blood flowing and release some of that nerve-ending sensitivity that had built up from not touching it. Giving up any pretense of decorum, I groaned softly to myself. Just an hour ago I had never entertained the thought of a boy being interested in me sexually, much less getting the chance to actually follow through on the opportunity. Now I almost couldn't contain myself.
Although Gabe looked nervous, his eagerness shone through. But when he reached for my fly I pushed his hand away again.
“What?” he asked, annoyed. I smiled at his thinly-veiled ennui.
“How long do you have?”
“Like, all day,” he said.
“And you've never done this before?”
“Then let's take our time.”
“But I wanna suck your dick.”
“You will. And if you want me to suck yours, you'll take my word that you're going to enjoy going slow.”
Gabe's face fell as he fell onto his back in a huff. “Walter says you gotta go for what you want. And that guys don't care as long as you suck them.”
“Far as I can tell,” I replied, “Walter is full of shit. That may be hard to understand, but I don't think he's good for you. I think he just wanted you for his own pleasure.”
For the first time Gabe looked really upset. Obviously he'd had fun talking to Walter, and he probably believed everything Walter had to say. He would trust anything someone fed him. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't come along today, if Walter would have come into town and picked the kid up. Taken him up into the mountains or to a hotel, had his way and left him like a used toy...
“Nobody ever wants to tell me the truth, even when we're chatting,” Gabe muttered. “Just call 'em by a code name, because it's easier. Don't tell my parents we talked, duh. Clear the history, duh. It's so stupid. Doesn't everybody know we feel the same way as them? Like just because I'm a kid I'm not supposed to know about dicks and stuff?”
Reaching out to lay my hand on his calf, I said, “It's not that they don't know. They're trying to protect you.”
“From having fun?”
“From being hurt.”
“So why aren't you like them?”
“I'm not going to hurt you, Gabe. You don't know that, but I do. And I already know you're up for it, whereas most adults just block it out. They don't want to hear about it. They don't want to know their kids are jerking off. And...stuff.”
“Have you always liked kids?” he asked me, and while the question took me slightly aback I had an answer for him right away.
“Not like, like like. Not until today.” He smiled at that. “I guess I needed the right person to show me?”
“I don't know how to do anything, 'cept for what Walter told me. But maybe I should forget that part.”
“Probably,” I replied softly, starting to stroke along his calf. “But you need to understand—”
“Our little secret.” Gabe recited. “I know all about that. Walter's three magic words.”
“Wow, Walter taught you well,” I admitted. “Just wanted to make sure you know that you can't tell anyone. Or, if you do, lie enough so that nobody can trace it back to me.”
“That's fuckin' stupid.” He stumbled over the curse.
“You're telling me,” I agreed.
“How about you enjoy yourself for a while and let me warm you up?”
“'Kay,” Gabe said, and I squeezed his calf again. He closed his eyes and sighed, seeming to relax under my touch. “It's finally happening, isn't it?”
“How long have you thought about it?”
“Wow. I bet you were cute at nine. I mean, you're still cute now, but...what am I saying? I didn't even think this way until you tried to whip my dick out!”
“Walter said guys are easy to change their minds. Like, once you get a boy hard and touch him he's all nervous but when you suck him he's yours. Er, theirs. You know. And if a kid can get an adult hard it's the same way. Most people will enjoy it, but a few will start liking boys.”
“Walter may have been right. I like you, as far as I know.”
“Cool,” Gabe said, and he went quiet while I continued to feel along his lower leg, running my fingers lightly along the skin from shin to thigh and back down. I watched his face relax and contort, wondering what he was feeling and if he was feeling it for the first time.
I couldn't believe how much control I had over my raging cock. I could have stripped us both and ravaged him with little to no complaint but I wanted it to be so much more than just a boy pleasuring a man. I wanted him to see how wrong Walter was. I certainly hoped he wouldn't talk to that man again; the prospect worried me.
Gabe turned over onto his back, spreading his legs and giving me an incredible view of his spike. You wouldn't know he had underwear on if his shirt weren't pulled up above his waistband. A thin strip of elastic peeked out from behind his shorts. Even so he tented them out quite a bit, but as eager as I was to feel it, suck it, have it up my ass (did I just think that?)...the leg I'd been touching was now out of my reach, so I started on the one that was closer. Gabe didn't mind.
Even though my heart was beating damn near out of my chest, things felt like they had slowed down some. Without the arguing in the way, now that we'd both agreed on it I was free to really explore this boy and these not insubstantial feelings for him. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't falling for him, but looking at him I could definitely see how people would find him attractive in that way.
Hell, I found him attractive in that way. Perhaps I'd discovered another side of myself.
Gabe continued to gaze at me dreamily through half-lidded eyes, his hair falling over a bit to obscure his forehead. I envied his skin, which wasn't the “alabaster white” you read about but a more fleshy hue with a little bit of suntan. But it looked so smooth and so much tighter than my own skin that it actually embarrassed me a bit. It's not like anything in the past twenty-six years could have helped. Even so, I lightened my touch.
“Rick.” His voice was merely the ghost of a whisper. “That feels really good.”
“I'm glad,” I murmured back. “Nobody ever done this with you, I gather.”
“Not like this.” Those words were full of longing, and they sounded funny spoken with such a young voice. How Gabe's sexual awakening had come about I didn't know, but it was something that had been brewing for quite some time. He felt closer to my level in that he wasn't completely innocent, just virgin. I wondered what his hole would feel like as it stretched to accommodate my shaft. I wondered if I'd even be able to fit.
I couldn't keep pussyfooting around like this. His little cock pulsed behind his shorts like a beacon. I wanted to grab it so badly but I didn't allow myself the luxury. I did, however, run my fingers up into his shorts just shy of his balls before withdrawing them. Gabe moaned woefully.
Scooting closer would mean I would have to take my hand off of the boy, so I just reached across his belly and pulled him to me by his hip. I felt his head surge against my forearm, an electric thrill running directly to my cock. But I resisted and shoved my hand up his shirt instead, tracing my fingertips over the soft baby fat on his belly.
No, he wasn't a boy Adonis. And I'm glad he wasn't. He made little “oh” noises each time I depressed a portion of skin, probably because I was disturbing all the butterflies in there. I tried to keep my touch gentle; a regular session with another grown man might be too rough for someone like Gabe. I watched him make a few grabs for himself, but each time he drew his hand away as if he got off more on denying himself any more pleasure than I could give him.
But the closer I got to one of his nipples, the more he started to tremble. He bit his lip, looking like he was headed for an orgasm whether he liked it or not. Then his hips started moving, shoving his boner up against the limits of his shorts. And when I brushed the tips of my fingers over the hard protrusion of his nipple he cried out and began bucking.
“Rick, do it please! Do it awww man, nnnnghh!” I didn't realize he'd pulled his shorts down and was holding them there with a thumb. His cock stood, seeming to vibrate, and I only had time to register that he was uncut before my hand was wrapped around it, stroking the foreskin along with a light yet solid touch.
Gabe screamed. His hips flew off the bed before I drew my other arm over him to hold him down while he bucked and writhed on my bed, grunting and making grown-men sounds with a prepubescent larynx. It was a raw climax if I'd ever seen one, and my eyes went from his cock to his face, watching spittle fly from his mouth even as nothing issued forth from his tip. Once he was through most of it I stilled my grip and let him pump out the remainder.
I tell you I've never seen anything like it. I remember the first few times after I'd learned that there was a spectacular end to the good feelings if I rubbed long enough. My whole body would tense up and I'd fight not to make noise because my parents had a habit of hearing through the walls. But either I've been alive too long and I've just plain forgotten how it felt. It made me feel younger to watch Gabe come, and I was glad I'd decided to take it where he'd wanted me to take it.
Chin resting on his chest, Gabe looked dreamily down at my hand. I gave him a couple strokes and he moaned unashamedly. Grinned.
“That was the best one yet,” he mumbled.
“Was it the first time you've come?”
“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “But that was the first one I haven't done myself. And the best.”
“I wanna do so much with you.” It slipped out, but he was gazing at me so dreamily and it seemed appropriate. I used with, not to. I wanted us to be equals.
“I want to do it all.”
“You don't know what you're saying.” He proved me wrong, though, by grabbing my collar and pulling me down to his level. I thought he was about to lambast me for such assumptions, but he just kissed me, and that was good enough. “Oh, Gabe...” I said around his lips, but he shut me up with his tongue.
I can tell someone who's inexperienced from someone who isn't good. Blowjobs, fucking, all of it. Kissing is a bit harder to distinguish since it takes two mouths working together, but it's so intimate that you can't not tell the difference. Gabe, despite all his passion and trying, was inexperienced but nowhere near bad. What started as a solid kiss on the lips quickly evolved into tender Frenching. Using my lips to wordlessly guide him, I felt him try to copy my actions and grow less tense with each passing second as he realized I wouldn't hold it against him if he wasn't perfect. Soon he was on his knees while I sat cross-legged, arms around each other as we shared this awesome intimate moment.
I don't know how long that went on, because my eyes were closed and I was too involved in feeling every bit of Gabe's body that I could. He was so eager, too, running his fingers under my shirt and over my hairy chest and belly, which is by no means slim but he didn't seem to care. He moved his knee to my groin, up against my balls and trapped cock, even grabbing for my fly a couple times but leaving it when he couldn't feel much of anything.
By the time we'd settled down to repeated pecks the kid was pretty good with his lips. He was panting hard, and when he backed away onto all fours and said, “Please take 'em off,” he looked like a little puppy. I shook my head, chuckling, and obeyed. Gabe watched with rapt interest.
It took about ten seconds for me to strip completely, Gabe removing his shirt when he realized he was now more clothed than me. My boxers pulled at my cockhead when I peeled them off because of all the pre I'd been leaking. Standing there in front of him I was aware of how I shouldn't be doing this, how much trouble I could get in. But then I looked at Gabe, whose eyes wouldn't leave my dick and whose tongue was actually licking his lips as he watched...and knew neither of us would be having any second thoughts.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, for want of anything more creative to say. He responded by crawling across the bunk like something out of Lord of the Flies and clamping down on my dickhead. He might have wanted to deep-throat me all at once, but he only got halfway down before clearly gagging and pulling back off, thick saliva now coating my shaft. He panted a couple times, swallowed and went back down, slowly. No teeth at all. “Oh, fuck!” I hissed through my teeth, grabbing onto the top bunk to keep myself steady.
His one hand gripped my base while the other went right up under my balls, rolling them around one at a time in his smaller hand. At this point, when I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had an extremely horny eleven-year-old boy nursing on me, I was kind of regretting that his first time wasn't something more loving. I also couldn't believe how much pleasure he was giving me, for a virgin. Walter must have at least taught him well in theory.
“You sure you've never done this?” I asked anyway.
“Mm-mm,” he said, even shaking his head emphatically, keeping me inside the whole time.
Then I thought back to the kissing. That had been pretty intimate, hadn't it? It had been to me; to him it must have blown his mind. If Gabe was that dead-set on getting a man into bed—and he'd succeeded—I doubted he would come to regret anything we did here unless I hurt him, which was the furthest thing from my mind. A slow undressing and seduction was fine and dandy, but Gabe had technically been seducing me since I parked my truck and he stopped by. So technically I was doing everything he wanted and expected.
He slowed down once he'd gotten his fill of mouth-fucking, and he finally seemed to be feeling around my cock for the details with his tongue. This was exquisite pleasure for me, and I made it known by thrusting my hips slowly to meet him each time. When I finally had the presence of mind to look down, I just couldn't process what I was seeing. A small boy with nary a hint of fuzz on his face or between his legs, his eyes half-lidded while he glided pleasantly over four of my six inches, each time coming a little closer to my pubic hair.
He wasn't wide-eyed, and he wasn't vacant. He was just concentrating on pleasing and being pleased, and for just a second I wondered how anyone who experienced this in childhood could have bad memories.
Then my head cleared and I realized I was one of those men who cared about the boy, rather than just gaining pleasure from the boy. But before I could depress myself further I felt my cock go cool. Gabe was smacking his lips, breathing hard, his little pecker up again. As if there were any doubt he wasn't capable of multiple rounds.
“My jaw's sore,” he said.
“I can imagine it would be,” I replied, kneeling to take him into my arms. He wrapped his legs around my midsection and locked lips before I had a chance to initiate. God, I could taste myself on his tongue, he'd sucked so much pre out of me. His little nail pressing eagerly into my belly, I spun us around and pinned him to the wall opposite the bed to save my arms the strain of keeping him up.
He slid down a little until I felt his impossibly smooth rear settle onto my cock, which slid its spit-slickened way right up to his little hole. At this Gabe nearly bit my tongue off as he started whimpering, rotating his hips lewdly, trying to get as much of me as possible as close to his ass as possible. I think it was at this point that I knew I was going to fuck this boy whether he wanted it or not, and if he protested I would take as long as it took until he let me. I wouldn't hurt him, though.
But hearing his high-pitched guttural begging, I think he would have let me if it meant getting a man's cock up his ass.
I mashed him up against the wall, allowing him enough room to breathe but giving my fingers room to roam. They went directly to his buttocks and then between them, where I found what felt to be the most perfect anus I'd ever touched. I haven't touched a whole lot, but this smooth, clean, warm thing was exceptional for some reason. I found my length and shoved it up there like so much hot dog within its bun, and it nestled there until I angled it up to slather some fluid across his skin.
“Put it in me,” he breathed in between smacks of our lips. “Fuck me.”
I pulled away. “Are you doing that because you think that's the way to get me to fuck you?” I saw something bloom behind his eyes and knew it was another Walter-ism that had slipped out. Then he looked away, leaving me with a coldness that surprised me. “Because you don't need to be dirty with me, Gabe. You can be however you want to be with me, and I won't mind.”
“I read some stories like that,” he said. “They were using a lot of words that just sounded weird.”
“Boy pussy.” He giggled at that one. “Love chute. Man juice. I didn't think people talked like that.”
“They don't.” I rubbed my nose along his, gazing lovingly (I guess I can say that now, all told) at him. “Maybe Walter does.”
“He did, a little.”
“Well, all I want to do is put my cock in that nice warm rump of yours and make us both feel good. Nothing more, simple as that.”
“I like that, Rick.”
“Thought you might.”
“Makes more sense when you mean it.”
“You are some kid,” I said through a smile I couldn't help, turning us back to the bunks, where I laid him down and we kissed yet again. Gabe was addicted, and I wasn't about to deny him his fix. We ended up facing each other, my cock leaking onto his taint. I moved about down there slowly, using his skin to milk more out of me. If we went long enough, I wouldn't need lube.
But eventually we both had to breathe, so we settled for putting our heads together, breathing each other's breath while I slowly dry-humped him into wetness.
I'd like to try and explain the kind of patience that comes about when you're in an intimate embrace with someone. Perhaps you've felt it yourself before. You're worked up and a part of you can't wait to get off, needs to get off as soon as you can manage it. But another part of you is getting so much pleasure from just the thought of what you're going to do that you feel as if you could stay there in that feeling forever and it would be enough. Every nerve is on fire, just the barest touch of skin to skin like a mini-orgasm by itself.
As we lay there, me peeling his cheeks apart to spread the pre around and thrusting at a snail's pace, that's how it felt. Our legs intertwined clumsily and his fingers were tentative on my arm, but I could tell he was at perfect ease with me. Whether that was him being naïve or not, any hesitation was gone on his part.
Eventually his entire crack was covered in fluid, and believe me, I don't usually leak that much. But I'd been teased and worked up well beyond what I was used to and was so high on my own hormones that I felt like we were both on the same level. Though, once I came it might be a different story.
When I grasped the base of my shaft and held it against him, Gabe made a noise that sounded like purring. I knew he wanted it badly, but jaded old me also knew there was a possibility we would try and it just wouldn't go in without causing him undue pain. I'd have to rely on his word, and I hoped he would be honest with me.
“If you don't want to do it, please tell me,” I whispered, feeling him clench and spasm against my head. I'd wanted to say If it hurts, but if the pain added something—anything—then I'd let him have it.
“Okay,” he replied, young sex-fresh breath on my face. His scent had changed since we'd started. I'd taken his innocence, but it was freely given.
I started pushing.
Gabe hissed in a breath and I stopped. “No,” he said, “the angle's wrong.” He then contorted himself in a way I don't think I'd ever been able to do myself: both legs up parallel to his arms, each knee touching an ear. He was all hole down there, and when I went to touch it my fingertip actually slipped in. He was spread for me. Holding him with my arm around his back, I watched as my glans first met, then penetrated him far more easily than it should have. Gabe grunted: he was pushing out as I pushed in, no doubt another tip from Walter.
I went slow until my rim popped behind his, and we both gasped at the same time. “That's it?” he asked.
“That's all there is,” I replied. “No more virginity.”
He blinked, then smiled. “I'm glad it was with you.”
“Oh, Gabe,” I almost moaned. “You shouldn't say that. It should be with someone special to you, not some trucker you seduced.”
“I seduced you?” he asked, not bothered at all by my reaction.
I pressed up against him, sliding two more inches home, reveling in the way his mouth made a perfect “O” of surprise and how he didn't seem to feel any discomfort. “You're the first boy I've been attracted to,” I said, being more honest than I wanted. But I felt I owed it to him to tell him the truth. “Not just because you went for my dick, either. You're just a really nice kid.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, and kissed my nose. Another twitch of my hips and another inch slid in. “This is the best feeling.”
“No! I thought there would be some!”
“Me too. We're lucky.”
“Yeah, really.” And that's when I started thrusting, as gently as I could despite my own need for release practically begging me to get it over with. He was tight, tighter than I'd ever had before but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. If Gabe wasn't experiencing any pain it was a miracle, because the way he clenched around my cock was a little too much to bear.
“Don't clench if you can help it,” I said.
“I'll try, but it feels so good,” he replied, and I loved him so much at that moment.
At intervals in the next five minutes or so I got a good look at just what I was doing to his hole. It caved in when I hunched against him and sucked back out as I withdrew. I'd never seen it before, except in a select few porn videos, but there was just no denying the smooth untouched wilderness that was Gabe's hole. Hard to describe it as anything other than that, even now, but it's what I was thinking and feeling as I watched myself repeatedly spread him open and back again. Pretty soon, though, I went back to focusing on what I felt instead of what I saw.
I never fucked him. That is, I never took him and pounded the shit out of him. I didn't need to, and he seemed satisfied enough with my easy pace. It got very quiet there towards the end, with the exception of our combined breathing, but it let me pace a little better than I would have ordinarily. On my side my hips wouldn't get sore no matter how long I went, and it allowed me to build up slowly inside of that exquisite place until I practically couldn't stand it.
Gabe cried out and I opened my eyes, not realizing they'd been closed. His face was scrunched up again, his right hand flying over his foreskin as he came. I didn't even know he'd been masturbating. A single rope of thin juice landed between my nipples and immediately dripped to the blanket.
“Awesome,” I blurted out while the kid looked goofily up at me, nothing but pure pleasure on his roundish face. The tingle in my balls blossomed to a full-on heat, and I pulled him close to thrust in earnest.
I don't know why I stopped at the last second, but I think we're both glad I did. Everything in my brain was screaming to breed him, to rut him hard like the horny male I was. And I started to, it was easy, but as I literally felt the cum moving to my cock I had a moment of sanity and struck home, rocking us as one while I felt myself filling him, felt it from base to tip and against my head when it splashed back to meet me.
“Holy crow, it's warm!” Gabe exclaimed, meaning my seed, and yes, indeed it was. “There...there, there...and there.” Counting off each volley as it left me. All the way down to the sixth, a half-shot I barely felt. I was vaguely aware of myself making feral-animal noises, spewing spittle onto his chest through gritted teeth. But it was heaven, and it didn't last as long as I wanted it to. Not nearly enough, but it would have to do for what it was.
“That was awesome,” he giggled, so ironic because what we'd done hadn't been funny in the least. Fun, yes. Very, very fun. But I placated him anyway.
“Hell yeah.” The new slickness was making it harder to stay inside once I started going soft, even though Gabe held me like a vice. But eventually it started acting more like a bowel again and I slipped out completely. He didn't spill a drop. “Hold that in if you can; I don't need any more stains on my bed.”
“I want it to stay in me forever.”
“That's a nice thought, but eventually it'll come out,” I said. He leaned in to kiss me again, but this one was short-lived.
“When can we do it again?” he asked, rolling and unfolding, settling into a resplendent lean recalling a Baroque painting. Or that chick from Titanic, but much sexier. His dick, I think, had never gone soft. The same three inches, hooded, the folds of skin glistening in the dim cabin light. I wanted to jerk him off again. Then I wanted to put him in my mouth again. Then I wanted him to fuck me. So I told him so.
“Are you ready?”
“Uh...yeah!” he exclaimed matter-of-factly, his face lighting up.
“Why don't you do me now?” You could have tipped him over with a feather as he processed that one.
“You'd let me?”
“Wouldn't be the only time. I figure it's only fair.” And he hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. Then he reached under my balls, poking around for my hole. “Whoa, I'm not even lubed up yet, you hornball!” This time it was I who couldn't resist giggling. And for the first time I realized I would miss him.
He kept his fingers on my sac as he watched me reach under the bed. My fingers happened upon my bottle of silicone lube and brought it up, popping the cap and rolling over onto my back.
“If I squirt some on myself, you can use the rest on you.”
“Okay.” The top bunk was close enough for me to prop my feet on it to spread my legs just right. Gabe paid rapt attention to my newly-exposed hole.
“Kinda hairy, isn't it?”
“Yeah.” He didn't look entirely pleased with the concept.
“You don't like it?”
“It's just kinda weird.”
“You might end up like that one day,” I said, squirting a couple drops onto my taint, feeling the coolness rolling down. “You better catch that.”
“My dad left a book on my bed about that stuff. I guess it should start anytime.” Gabe spread the lube around my hole if not quite in it—I couldn't blame him for being reticent—and once he saw how slippery it was he slid his fist up and down his dick, including under his foreskin. I was impressed until I remembered he'd probably been jerking off for a while.
“Don't be too happy when it comes,” I warned him, reaching down to grab hold of his little cock. “This is one of the cutest things I've ever seen, especially without hair to get in the way. I didn't realize how much until today.” I pulled him toward me until I felt his tip at my entrance, hot and ready. “Don't worry about me, I can take it.”
And I watched his face contort as his foreskin peeled back and he slid into me with ease.
“You're so hot inside! Am I that hot?”
“Inside and out,” I replied as he blushed. Then he settled on top of me and made his first thrusts into his first ass. He bit his lip; he was in heaven.
I kept myself propped up on the bunk and just watched him go. Contrary to how I'd thought he would go, he stayed at a fairly slow pace, preferring long, slow strokes to the bunny-humps I expected. He propped himself up with his hands on my inner thighs, shifted forward and used the slight curve in his shaft to his advantage.
It wasn't long until I was hard again myself. Reaching for the bottle, I lubed back up and was stroking in time to his thrusts. He watched me work myself, watched how a grown man handled his cock, probably wondering how he'd managed to take that into his ass. When I used my heels to pull him in further he was just able to hit my prostate, which sent me over. I held him there while I made a puddle of cum all over my lower belly, surprisingly copious for a second round.
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. “Oh, wow.” He started to slow down and was almost about to pull out.
“What're you doing?”
“You're done.” I could tell he didn't really want to leave me, though.
“You're not. Keep going; I'm fine! I can take it.”
“Fuck me,” I said, mocking what he'd said earlier. “Shoot it in me.” I grinned when he shot me a smirk belying his young age, and soon he sped up. I was more than happy to just lay there and watch him go, feeling no discomfort or pain at all, just the comfortable flesh-on-flesh of an adequate fit.
When he dug deep and leaned into me I wrapped my arms around him, feeling for his cheeks and parting them once I got a grip. He went wild—as wild as he could in that position—and held himself in me, moving only an inch or so. I could feel his foreskin rolling around, his cockhead jutting out and going back inside. With one hand on his hole probing its slick depths and the other lightly petting his head, I encouraged him with soft words until his cried out, shuddered and finally went still. He pulsed six times before he collapsed.
I know it's cliché to say we dozed off afterwards, but we did. I'd come twice and Gabe thrice, and I guess we were just plain tuckered. It was only twenty minutes anyway, and when I came to Gabe was still inside me, albeit softer than before. I shook him gently awake and he sleepily came to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. God, but it was cute.
“Guess I gotta go, don't I?”
I fished around in my pants and pulled out my cell phone, checking the time. “Looks like it, for me at least. If we stay around here any longer, people will show up. I have to get along to my next pickup soon anyway.”
“But you don't wanna go.” He'd read my mind. I leaned over to hug him, but he turned it into a kiss that turned into making out and some heavy petting. What I wouldn't give for him to be my over-the-road buddy.
We pulled apart. “I don't wanna go. But when it comes down to it, you live here and I don't. So, that's just the way it is.”
Gabe reached down for his shorts and fiddled with his own phone, turning it around to show me the numbers on the screen. “Yours?” I asked.
“Won't your parents know?”
“I don't need yours. Just call me if you come back.”
“You pick up for random phone numbers?”
“It's unlisted. It doesn't get spam. You'll call me?” How could I refuse those eyes?
“You bet I will.”
“I can ride my bike anywhere in town,” he said, very proud of the fact. “Even to Verdi.” I had no idea how he could get all the way there on a bike; it was basically on the California border. Back roads, probably.
“I'm impressed. Keep those legs in shape,” I said, running up one of them to caress his little balls. His dick didn't move; it was about time he wore out. I forced my hand away and patted him. “Alright, time for clothes.” We both got dressed and, after a long hug and some more, desperate, kissing from Gabe, I opened the door for him and he stepped out into the warming Nevada day. I looked around for anyone who might catch sight of him, but saw no one.
The last I saw of him, he was shoving his kickstand up and pedaling around the back of my trailer, leaving a track in the dust before he was gone.
That was a while ago, and that's the story I have to tell. I would have written it sooner but you know how life gets in the way. In fact, the reason I'm writing it now is because I'm headed back that way to pick up a big Caterpillar drilling machine for some project over in Tahoe. I'm sitting in Wendover right now, out of hours for the night but anticipatory nonetheless.
Because, you see, I texted the number Gabe gave me. I got back a picture. In it was a familiar crotch with a few stray pubic hairs around the base of the dick, which was the same size as I remember. The balls, however, had grown a bit darker and had started to drop. They looked absolutely delicious. The text read: “Started a couple months ago. I make messes now! ;)”
I'm looking forward to seeing how much of a mess we can make tomorrow.