This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between a man and a minor boy. The story is not true; the sexual acts described herein derive solely from imagination. It is not intended to promote illegal acts with/to/by minors, nor does it condone child abuse of any sort. If you object to the subject matter, stop reading. If your reading of this material violates laws in your place of residence or where you are currently located, stop reading. Thank you.
This story is protected by the copyright conventions of the United States.
My stories are pure fantasy. They merely ask, "What if..."
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Love, Set, Match
Part 1 of 2
I lay next to my lover as he slept in our bed at our Caribbean villa overlooking the ocean. Through the open doors, the gentle lapping of the warm waves on the white sand was like the echo of the completeness that filled our lives. This was our little piece of heaven - that and just being together, that was heaven, too. I marveled at how oddly similar we now were: similar size, similar coloring, similar personalities; indeed, in some ways, we were like brothers. I suppose by law, he was as closer to a parent than anything else - by law, perhaps, but by the simple purity of our love for each other, even that relationship was inadequate to express the bond between us. As I lay there waiting for him to awaken, with my 18-year-old manhood pressing into his warm thigh, I was transported to an earlier time a time when I had lain with him in this same bed, and before that even, an earlier time still - when all this was simply unimaginable, and yet it happened...in just this way...
The boy was about to crawl out of his skin! The dorm attendant from the school had dropped him at the stadium, and he'd found the lady in charge who directed him to the changing room. There it was - his locker complete with an official name tag: “Anders Engstrom“.
Inside was his uniform - shorts, shirt, hat, socks, shoes, even pants - white Y-fronts. Most of the other boys were there already, changing. He looked around. He hadn't counted on this. Suddenly he was petrified because of his “problem“. His problem was a dreaded secret: He loved to look at other boys - especially nude boys. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't, and it frightened him. Why did he have to do that - stare at naked boys? At his school, he did it all the time. He tried to tell himself it was normal for a fourteen-year-old. He'd learned to be careful how he did it. He didn't want any of the boys to know he was peeking at them. A few times, someone caught him, and they called him names. He couldn't let that happen here. But here they were - naked boys, and here he was, with his hungry eyes.
Now the door opened, and the lady in charge stepped in; the boys who were naked grabbed anything they could to shield themselves. The lady smiled. “Isn't that cute,” she muttered, “but, don't flatter yourselves...not interested.” Still, it seemed to Anders - the expert at sneaking a peek - that she eyed one of the older, cuter boys a bit longer than someone who was “not interested” should. Anders was eternally grateful he hadn't gotten down to removing his trousers (not that she'd have gotten an “eyeful” the way she had with the bigger boy). “Now then,” she continued, “all attendants are required to shower before and after their assignment. Leave your sullied uniforms in the laundry baskets, please. And promptly, everyone, promptly, please. Assignments given out in twenty minutes.”
Anders looked around. He appeared to be the youngest boy there. Most might have been fifteen or sixteen. The rest, five or six, were probably about his age. He was fourteen - going on ten, as his dorm attendant joked. It wasn't a nice joking, really, and it was a times like that, that he really missed his mum an' dad. (Sometimes he'd think he was getting past losing his parents, and then something like this would happen at school, and then it was happening again - he knew he wasn't really any better at all. When it got really bad, he'd call the counselor - psychologist, he was - and set up an appointment.)
The school had had him to another doctor because he wasn't growing as he should - or so they thought. Someone even wondered if it was the shock of losing his mum and dad. The doctor, to the contrary, said everything was alright: he - and they - just needed to be patient.
The older boys were naked and didn't seem to care a bit- now that the lady was gone. They sported hair about their bits and pieces - as his dorm attendant called the boys' privates. And these boys' pieces were big - maybe twice as big as his. But then he was the youngest-looking one there. For a moment he wondered if that meant his thing was the smallest one there, too. And then he had a thought that made him turn red as a beefeater's tunic: he wondered how big the older boys' things got when they're...you know - hard! It was a dirty thing to be thinking on this, the most exciting day of his life. Now his thing began to stir, and he thought, oh no, I've got to take my undies off to shower! The boy quickly stripped and stepped into the room labeled “Showers,” but oh-oh, another problem! This could be bad! There were no shower stalls, just one big shower area. The older boys were already soaping up. He got under the shower as quickly as he could, and by thinking hard about what he'd be doing soon, he managed to keep his penis from getting any stiffer.
His uniform fit perfectly, well it would if he didn't have a piece of wood located temporarily (hopefully) at the bottom of his belly. The shirt and shorts were trim and tight - but not too tight to prevent movement. And then all the boys were off to be assigned.
They could hear the crowd as they stood outside the door. Anders looked at Jody, the boy closest in size to him, and Jody looked at him, and they both grinned like the Cheshire cat! This was going to be awesome! The doors opened and they stepped inside. 14,000 people sat waiting and watching. Everything was just like it was on TV - except he was here! He was in the middle of it all: center court at Wimbledon!
Two groups of eight boys were heading off to two different venues. Anders' group was heading for the main stadium. He and Jody were to be on either side of the net, with four others assigned to the corners. Two additional boys were to be reserves. Anders grinned. He'd practiced hard and long to win this opportunity. When some of his competition saw his size, they figured there was no contest, but boy were they wrong! Anders was perfect in everything he did. And it paid off.
Shortly after they got in position, the players arrived and began warming up. He and Jody crouched at the side of the net, and they'd take turns retrieving net balls. It was incredible. He could actually smell the players. One was wearing some sort of nice-smelling stuff, the other...well, he just smelled. The smelly one was a French player and had a reputation for being a real jerk - both on and off the court. From the moment he stepped into the arena, he didn't seem very nice. The other player, on the other hand, was a Swede (Ander's kind of guy!), Erik Pedersen. The Swedish tennis star was one reason why Anders wanted to bad to win the role to be a ball boy at Wimbledon.
As much a jerk as Jacques what's-his-name was, Erik was the opposite. He even noticed them. Well, he noticed Anders, especially, the boy would have to say, though he wasn't sure why; maybe the player could tell he was Scandinavian as well. (Actually Anders' dad was Swedish, his mum was English, so technically he was only half Scandinavian.) Anyway, Erik actually smiled at him once, which created a bit of a problem, because they'd been given strict instructions not to interact with the players at all. “Do nothing to distract them,” the lady had said. “Any such incidents, and you'll be gone. Immediately.” Well, he couldn't ignore the number one seed in the world if he smiled at him, so he smiled back. It couldn't do any harm. Heck, he didn't think anyone even noticed, except Erik of course, and as he looked back to the court, he noticed the Frenchman was looking at him, too. The French player then flashed a look at Erik, and then he sort of smiled - the first time he'd seen him smile since he'd walked onto the court.
Then the match began. And everything was going like clockwork. Things were going better for Erik than Jacques, but the French guy was holding his own. Anders and his mate, Jody, had their jobs down pat. Then, with Erik about to close the last set, there was a net ball. Anders ran out, and it took kind of a funny bounce which meant he had to sort of do a stutter-step, to retrieve it. He got to the sidelines and into his crouch, when all of a sudden the Frenchman launched into a tirade. It was in French, at least at first, so he didn't even know what was going on. He's jabbering at the judge, and then all of a sudden, he's swinging his racquet over and thrusting it at him - at Anders! Then the boy heard the Frenchman say in English. “He's a distraction! Get him out!” And suddenly, Anders felt 14,000 pairs of eyes on him...and then he saw the judge, and then the lady, and then he saw another boy beside her, and the Judge gestured to him, telling him to go to the lady, and he felt the tears starting to flow down his cheeks. Anders had done nothing wrong. Nothing! Even then he still didn't know what the problem was. He glanced over at Erik and saw him looking back at him. The boy was stunned; his favorite player looked like maybe he's going to cry - either that or he was really mad.
The lady looked at him, and she wheeled around, turning him with her; together they stepped out of the court.
“What did I do?” he asked.
She looked down at him. He figured she was going to ball him out or something, but then she put her hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she said. “You did nothing wrong...but when a player makes a demand - even an unreasonable one - we have to respond. It's not fair - everyone in the stadium knows that - and I'm sorry, but I can't send you back in there.”
The woman looked pained. “I'm sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “but there will be no tomorrow.”
Anders sat for a long while alone in the locker room and just cried. Eventually, he heard applause, and he knew the match had ended. Soon the other boys were coming into the locker room. They were excited, but when they saw him, they tried to temper their enthusiasm. “Sorry, mate,” they said. One of the older boys said, “The Frenchy's an asshole.” Jody concurred, “You didn't do anything wrong! It wasn't fair!” With that sentiment, there was no disagreement.
That's when the door opened, and the woman stepped in and looked right at him. “You,” she said. She pointed at him, then curled her finger and beckoned for him to come. The locker room was deathly silent. He looked at his compatriots. What more could go wrong?
Outside the door, a man was waiting. “You're the boy who had the...ah...run-in with Jacques Fragonard?” the man asked. Anders nodded. The man shook his head in a disapproving way, and then said, “Come with me.” He led the boy though a series of hallways, past several guards who seemed to know the man, or at least recognized his credentials that he wore around his neck. Then he knocked on a door, and a voice replied, “Yes?”
"Pardon, sir. He's here."
“Okay,” the voice said.
“Go on, then,” the man was saying, as he gently pushed him forward, and when Anders turned to look back at him, the man was already on his way down the hallway.
Anders shook as he stood there, his hand on the door knob. He took a breath and thought he couldn't bare another humiliation.
“Well, come in,” the voice said.
Anders opened the door and stepped in. There was one person inside, and the boy's heart skipped a beat.
“Mr. Pedersen, sir.” He had a hard enough time keeping from staring at him on the court, but now it was impossible, impossible now, because the tennis star had his shirt off. When he was on the court, Anders could see his arm muscles and he wielded his racket like a sword, muscles bulging, but now he could see his chest and his stomach. The tennis star had a breath-taking six-pack, and his pecs swelled as if with muscled pride. Gazing at the man's perfect, boyish face, his incredible smile, and his incredible body, Anders was in seventh heaven. He couldn't take his eyes away!
“That's Erik,” the world-famous athlete said with a smile, and he extended his hand. He reached out and he took the boy's hand in his and shook it. Anders forced his eyes to Erik's and felt odd as his gazed was returned by the player's which had equal intensity - an intensity that made the boy blush. Erik's smile grew, and he held onto Anders' hand for longer than he thought was proper for a handshake, but it wasn't disagreeable!
"Anders...No shit! A fellow countryman!"
“Well, sir, I'm a Brit, actually. My dad was Swedish, though.”
“Well, I'll have to meet your dad!” Erik grinned, but suddenly Anders was filling up with tears. “What's wrong?” the man asked with alarm.
“My mum and dad died in a car accident a year and a half ago.”
“Oh, Anders, I'm so sorry.” There was an awkward pause, and the man worried he'd ruined everything. “So who's taking care of you?” he asked after a moment, hoping to recover.
“A school. For kids...um...like me. I've no close relatives. Well, my mum's cousin, but she doesn't want me.”
“Oh, Anders, she doesn't know what she's missing. Anyone in their right mind would want you!”
The boy blushed.
"And I'm truly sorry about your folks, Anders. Truly."
Anders nodded soberly and offered a mumbled, “Thanks,” and then tried to lighten the moment some: “Well...um...did you win - 'cuz I was cheering for you! I really was! I'm hoping you'll go all the way!”
The tennis star beamed at the handsome boy's unchecked enthusiasm. "Then I'll have to play better than I did today."
“You lost!” The boy reddened. “Excuse me, Mr. Pedersen, but I thought you were going to beat the pants of him!”
Erik Pedersen grinned. “Now wouldn't that have been a sight!”
“I'm sorry, sir, but it's true! You were so better!”
Now Erik did a strange thing. Anders had been already pretty close to him - maybe three feet away, but now the player beckoned him to come closer. The boy stepped to within a foot of him. Erik put his hands on his arms, and then drew them up to his shoulders. The man sighed as he did so. “Anders, I am the one to say I am sorry.”
“Because what happened to you was my fault.”
“No...sir...it couldn't be...”
“Shhh...and please. My name is Erik. Okay?” Anders nodded. “Jacques knows something about me...something that he can use to his advantage on the courts. Today, that's what happened.”
“I don't understand.”
“I think Jacques saw me smiling at you.”
“I think he did, too,” the boy agreed, “because he looked kind'a strange at one point.”
“Yes,” Erik replied, “he knew I'd spotted you. He knew I had my eye on you.”
“I'm sorry, sir...Erik...but...”
“Why would that make a difference?” the tennis star asked?
“Well, it's complicated. It just does. Here, let me say it this way: I happened to see you today, and I thought, well there's a nice boy, a wonderful boy: handsome, young, alert, athletic, prepubescent. You're what...twelve?”
The boy blushed, and Erik's fingers squeezed his shoulders. Prepubescent? What the devil is that? Anders thought. “Fourteen, actually. But everyone thinks I'm younger. I...” Anders blushed, because somehow this seemed a bit personal to be saying to a world famous athlete: “...I haven't really started to grow - not just yet, anyway.” Anders forced a smile and used an expression his aunt had used: “Bit of a late bloomer, I guess.”
“Well,” the tennis star said, “You look delightfully prepubescent to me. That means you haven't started your growth spurt - you know, puberty - when boys begin to grow quickly and their voices change...and their cocks and balls begin to get bigger."
Anders blushed again because in school he'd see a movie about exactly that, and to hear a big athlete like him talk about...about - well - about those things was weird.
“You're right about me, Erik,” the boy said with a quiet grin, “I'm not doing any of those things yet - though I'm just starting to grow a bit taller.”
“Perfect,” Erik said. “Perfect.”
The boy didn't think he was perfect by any means, but as uncomfortable as it made the boy, he could tell Erik did. The truth was it made him a bit confused - self-conscious and uncomfortable - but at the same time almost proud. The man's words (and his stare) made the boy tingle all over. He could tell the man was serious as his eyes looked all up and down his young body. It did make him feel funny, the way he was looking at him. It was almost as if he was looking right through my clothes. Anders smiled self-consciously.
“Anyway,” Erik continued, “I think Jacques figured I liked you...and so if he made a fuss and got you thrown out...And perhaps get me upset.”
Now Anders understood. “Then you'd lose your concentration.”
“And,” said Erik, “he seems to have been right, today. It worked. But it was so unfair to you. That's what really made me lose my concentration. I'm sorry, Anders, it was a mean thing to do. I don't care so much about players psyching out other players, but when they hurt innocent people...”
Now the boy heard himself saying something he couldn't believe was coming out of his mouth. “It's okay...Erik. The important thing is to get back in there and win!”
The tennis player couldn't help but smile. The boy was absolutely correct, but it was his youthful intensity that made his heart race. “Exactly, Anders,” he said.
But the boy wasn't finished. He was on a roll: “You're so much better than he is.”
“Well, maybe, but Jacques was on his game at least in one sense. He read me just about 100 percent correct. I really liked discovering you today, so I'm glad we're having a chance to get to know each other. Aren't you?” Again, he ran his hands down the boy's arms, then Erik's hands drifted lower to find his hips, and he sort of patted or rubbed over his butt. “Yeah,” Anders said. Actually it was more like a whisper. Suddenly he was feeling really weird. Kind of all confused, mixed up, hot, but excited, too - bloody really excited, like he had to jump out of his skin or run around the block three times!
“Hey, want to get something to eat? I'm usually pretty hungry after a match. It's the least I can do - to make up for all this.” Now, one of Erik's hands stayed on the boy's butt, but the other one pulled up his shirt in the back and his hand slipped under it, and he ran his hand up and down his back. The player closed his eyes for a moment, drew in a slow, long, deep breath, held it, and then let it out. It was a sigh that seemed to shake him.
“Really!” the boy asked.
”Well...okay. I mean, Yes! ”
“Awesome. I just got'ta shower, first.”
“S'pose I should, too,” the boy said.
Erik seemed to study him. “Oh, you haven't showered?” The tennis star lifted the boy's arm and stuck his nose in his armpit and sniffed. “Owww...guess not. You smell like a dead yak!” The boy felt Erik's nose press against the cloth of his shirt, and it tickled. He giggled and broke into a grin.
“Hey...Anders: I have an idea...if it's not too strange. There's plenty of room in my shower...” He raised his eyebrows and grinned a silly grin. “Know what I mean?”
The boy blushed a deep red. “I'm not sure...Erik...I mean...” “It'll be fine...we're both guys after all. Right?” He eyed the boy up and down.
“But my clothes aren't here.”
“Not a problem.” In a flash, the tennis star had made a phone call and issued a command to retrieve the boy's clothes from the ball boys' locker room. “I'll let you know when we're ready for them,” Erik said and hung up. “Okay?” He looked to Anders for his approval.
The boy nodded hesitatingly, and then Erik reached out, unbuttoned the buttons on Anders' shirt, and pulled it over his head. Then he bent down and pulled off the boy's shoes and socks. When he stood again, the tennis star reached out and began to unsnap the boy's shorts.
Anders trembled then; he wasn't sure why, but the strange thing was, he thought Erik did, too. This was so strange, but also, secretly, very exciting. The boy's body was growing harder, and his heart raced. Slowly, Erik pulled the zip down, and then eased the shorts down until they fell to his feet. Anders naturally drew his hands to cover the hidden “bits and pieces“, but Erik hushed him, and took his hands and placed them at the boy's side. Then with a glance up into Anders' eyes, Erik looked back down, swallowed hard, and then began to pull his pants down. “So smooth and firm,” he whispered almost to himself. The waistband of his briefs scraped over his penis, and Anders involuntarily hitched his butt backwards. Erik never stopped until the boy's little penis popped free. It was far some soft, but neither was it fully hard, though it still lay on top of his two small balls. The tennis star pushed the pants down until the fell on top of his shorts, and then, holding him by his hips, gazed at his charms.
“Oh, Anders,” he gasped. “You are a beautiful boy. Nicely cut, too. Scrumptious.”
Anders' head was spinning. His blood pumped through his body, and he was so hot! Erik - Erik Pedersen - had called him beautiful, and it made him blush. Somehow it seemed only girls should be beautiful, but when Erik said it about him, he felt a shiver go from the bottom of his belly outward to the top of head and his fingers and his toes. Anders wasn't sure what he meant by cut, but he knew what scrumptious meant. “That means you could eat me!” he said, and he giggled at how silly that was.
Erik looked like he'd won the finals as Anders said that, but then Erik realized the boy was just making a joke.
Strange, though, the boy thought. Who would ever think about eating someone? Then, as Erik continued to stare, the unthinkable began to happen. Anders was getting hard. Again he tried to cover himself. “Noo, noo...baby...that's a beautiful thing. Just let it happen...”
“Look, Anders, I'm that way, too.” The boy looked down and could see a big swelling in Erik's tennis whites. “But...let's watch what's happening to your penis. I don't want to miss a moment,” he said, and Anders was sure he could hear a tremor in the man's voice. Anders actually shook then; this was so strange. He looked into Erik's face, but the man seemed to be interested in only one thing - his thing, his thing getting bigger and bigger! Pretty soon it was hard and tight. It pointed up to his chin, and Anders could feel it throbbing like the beat of his heart. “Oh,” Erik sighed, “that was so special. You're so special, Anders. So beautiful.” The boy smiled. Even though he knew they shouldn't be doing this, he felt excited, and he was thrilled that Erik Pedersen was saying those things about him. It was a sort of turning point for the boy, for from this point on, he thought less about how weird this was, and more about how exciting it was, and exciting in a way he'd never felt before.
“You've made me just as hard as you are,” Erik said, breaking into the boy's most secret thoughts. “Take off my shorts, and you'll see,” he said. The boy suddenly had a great desire to do exactly that. He'd never seen a man close up. He'd caught glimpses of his father, but mostly just a fleeting look, and it seemed so long ago. Now Anders wanted to really see a man, and not just any man. When he was out on the court, the boy had even tried to sneak a peek at Erik's front, trying to see something, but he couldn't - only hints of what the man had - but now he was about to.
Once Erik's white shorts had fallen to his feet, all that remained were a strange pair of underpants. Erik was prepared for the boy's quizzical look, because now he explained, “It's a special kind of jock...it gives me more support than just Y-fronts, but if I wore a regular jock strap, it'd show under my whites.” Anders nodded understandingly. Then, encouraged by Erik, he grasped the jock and carefully moved it down.
“Easy,” Erik breathed. “Ohhh, your hands feel so nice.” Pretty soon, his patch of hair appeared. It was thick, and being a fair-haired Swede, it was a pure yellow-blond. And then a little more, and he stopped. It's too strong a word to say he was shocked...maybe more “surprised“. Where the boy's own little cock was maybe three inches long when hard and just a little more than a half-inch across, Erik's penis was probably three times as thick - and the boy had no idea how long it was, not yet, anyway, because he could tell it wasn't still fully hard.
Anders was now shaking. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't scared. In fact, he felt really excited, but still he knew other kids would say what he was doing was “dirty” or nasty. The boy obviously knew you weren't supposed to see other people naked, and you certainly weren't supposed to take their clothes off, but here he was doing exactly that. With Erik Pedersen! On the TV, and in the tabloids, they always had girls saying how cute Erik was - and he was cute, if that's okay for a boy to say about another guy. He'd heard older girls say they'd like to go to bed with him, and he knew what that meant: it meant they wanted to have sex with him! Wow! And now, he thought, me...Anders Engstrom - I'm about to see Erik Pedersen without any clothes! I'll see what those girls would give anything to see. The boy figured that was maybe why he was shaking like it was ten degrees outside - except he wasn't cold; he was very hot. Anders tugged on the jock, and slowly more of the massive spear of flesh began to appear. It seemed harder now, and it pointed down. As the jock scrapped over it, Erik groaned. “Sorry,” Anders mumbled, suddenly worried that perhaps he wasn't doing it right.
Erik saw the boy's uncertainty. “No, baby, it's fine, aaargghhhhhaaaa,” he sighed. “Keep going. I want you to see me.” He sounded desperate, so the boy tugged more quickly, and soon his big seven-inch penis popped up, pointing straight out at him, throbbing with a string of clear stuff stretching from his left thigh to the tip of his thing, where that slit was. Quickly, he pulled the jock down the rest of the way, and then the man was as naked as he was.
The boy's eyes were riveted on Erik's big tool. It was not circumcised like his. (They'd learned about that at school as well.) Anders couldn't really see the end of Erik's thing because it was covered with a bunch of skin. As he stood there, staring at the big thing that was sticking straight out, pulsing every second or so, the boy felt almost like his legs couldn't hold him up.
“Oh, Anders,” Erik said, “you're incredible...and look, we're both so, so hard. Yours is so stiff it's pointing right up to the ceiling!” Erik grinned, as if Ander's thing was making him happier than he'd ever been. “Let's compare,” Erik said, and then the boy felt Erik's hands on his bare butt, and he stiffened, then trembled, and finally, as the man's fingers danced up and down over his bottom and pulled him toward him, he relented. His face was burning hot and his heart was pounding and he felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He was looking into Erik's eyes - when he was riveted to the man's monster penis. Erik's eyes were so nice. And then something happened that made him gasp right out loud, and he grinned. Erik's big thing touched his! “Oh, yes, baby, that's so nice, isn't? You certainly felt that, didn't you?”
The boy nodded. He looked down and that funny stringy juice was now connecting their two cocks. Anders swallowed hard. Erik's looked so different to his own.
“What are you looking at sweetie?”
“Your...” Anders blushed. He was about to talk to a grown up about his penis! “...thing: It's...so big.”
“Oh...how sweet,” Erik said. “And yours, my beautiful boy, is so delicious.” The athlete could tell from the boy's expression he found that confusing. “See, Anders...” Erik's fingertip touched the boy's penis for just the briefest moment. It was like a bolt of cool electricity surged through him starting right where he touched. The boy gasped aloud, and he froze hoping the feeling would stay. “...your penis is just perfect for a boy your size. Perfect. I could just kiss its beautiful head.” He took the boy's hand, and stroked the back of it for a moment. “Want to see my cock head?”
The boy swallowed hard. He did want to see it, and he nodded dumbly to say so. “See all that skin at the end?” Erik asked. The boy nodded. “Well, gently pull it down the shaft.” The boy's eyes got wide and he almost felt like he was going to pass out. The man grasped the boy by his waist. “Well, you have to breathe...” Erik grinned, and so did he. “That's better...Go ahead, then, it's alright, really.”
With halting breaths and shaking hands, Anders reached out. Suddenly, all the words inside his head saying, no, you shouldn't be doing these things got pushed away, and he wanted to do this! He had to do this! Anders licked his lips, and swallowed, and reached out. When he touched the huge penis, it jumped, and that made him pull his hand back for just a moment, as if the man's penis were an animal that had turned on him. Then Anders showed more resolve and touched it again, letting his hand enclose it. His fingers, as they wrapped around it, could barely encircle it. It was huge and thick! And hard...and hot...and smooth! Anders trembled. In his muddled state, he couldn't imagine anything more exciting. And he guessed Erik couldn't either, because he was trembling, too. Erik groaned a long groan, and put his hands on Anders' shoulders and pressed down hard. It scared the boy a little, and he looked up.
Erik had his eyes closed, his mouth opened, and he tossed his head back. “Yesss...” he hissed. “Oh, baby...go ahead now...pull it back.” Anders looked back down and licked his lips again. (He was so thirsty all of a sudden!) He moved his hand up to get a better grip on the loose skin, and then gently pulled back. It all came back! It was like a curtain opening on a stage! And slowly, the man's glistening cockhead was revealed! Oh my God! the boy thought. It looked just like his own only five times bigger! He knew he had to keep staring at it, but he didn't understand why. Why was he feeling like this? Why did he have to do these things that he knew were naughty! He knew it was wrong, but he had to do it, he had to! He had to touch it, and hold it. Maybe it was because he knew what they were doing - what he was doing - was making Erik very, very happy! And the boy himself had never felt so...so excited!
“Oh Anders, it feels so nice when somebody touches your penis.” He looked into the boy's eyes. “You know what I mean, don't you?” The boy couldn't tell him he didn't. Nobody had ever touched his thing. Not until just a moment ago, and then it was barely a touch. His face burned, and he couldn't keep looking into his eyes because if he did, he'd know the truth, he'd know he didn't know what he meant. But it was too late. “Wait...” Erik whispered. “Anders...you...you've never been with somebody?” He suddenly looked very concerned. “You haven't, have you?”
Anders dropped his head and shook it. Then he felt Erik's fingers under his chin. He lifted his head up. “It's okay, sweetheart. Really.”
“It is?” the boy asked, suddenly worried that somehow he'd ruined everything.”
“Oh, yes, my sweet boy, it is, and if you let me, I can show you what I mean. It would be so special for me to show you. Would you like that?”
The boy trembled. He could hardly speak. “Yes.” The word caught in his throat, but there, he'd said it. He knew this was wrong, forbidden. He wasn't even sure what “this” was - what was going to happen, but he knew it would feel so incredible. He also knew kids shouldn't be doing it, but by now, he didn't care. He had to know.
“Oh, Anders, you've made me so happy. But first...let me please, just look at you. May I do that?”
The boy blushed and nodded. And that's exactly what Erik did. From the boy's white-blond hair, to his blue eyes, his little button nose with a sprinkling of freckles across them, to his rosy-lipped mouth, dimpled cheeks, the firm neck, smooth chest, with two needle-point nipples, flat, firm tummy, mounded out-swelling just above his rigid dick, his two balls, snug in their sack, his two proud, long, muscular, straight legs, his small, cute feet - the tennis star took it all in, as if he were a work of art that mesmerized him. Anders clasped his hands and let them fall naturally in front of his thing.
“Nooo, my sweet,” the tennis star mumbled. “Remember: be proud of your beautiful boy-body! Be proud that you can bring a man to this hardness!” He reached out and ran his fingers over the boy's chest; he tweaked his nipples, and again shockwaves roared through the boy's body. “Yes, see! I knew you would come alive in my hands! Now, my sweet boy, please turn around, slowly.” The boy did - with Erik watching him all the time, every centimeter of his body, nothing missed his gaze. As Anders turned, Erik let his hands dance like feathers across his skin. When he'd gotten turned around, Erik spoke again. “Please just there. Stop. Ahhh...” he sighed.
Anders felt the man's hands brush over his shoulders, then his back, and then - oh my God - his bottom. He felt Erik's hands caress the firm, round globes of his bottom. The boy almost choked. This was so confusing. And then he felt a soft, smoothness against the skin on his bottom, and he twisted around to look. Erik was resting his face against his bottom! Cheek-to-cheek! (sort of, anyway.) “Ohhhhh, Anders....” he breathed, and sighed a great sigh. Then, as best as the boy could see, Erik turned his head slightly and breathed in a great breath through his nose - yes! his nose which was practically nestled in his crack. Then he turned, and placing his lips on his butt-cheek, he actually kissed his butt! Anders couldn't believe what the man had done to him, and to tell the truth, he'd never felt so excited in his life. It was like he couldn't sit still. It was like something inside him was trying to get out! It was incredible! Just so totally awesome!
“Okay, Anders.” Erik patted the top of a table in the room, which Anders found out later was used for massage or therapy sessions for the players. Erik adjusted the table, raising one end of it, so it was like a chaise lounge. Everything was new for him, and it seemed, despite the excitement he felt, that with every new thing, he grew more uncertain, but also more driven to find out what was waiting around the next corner. And infinitely more excited. Anders climbed up onto the table, and lay on his side, his knees drawn up to sort of shield his privates. “Anders, my young friend, on your back.” The boy felt Erik's hands on his body straightening him out, placing his hands at his sides. He glanced down, down past his two nail-point nipples, past his firm, hard, flat tummy, to his aching penis which throbbed and pointed straight up at his face. Below, his small balls were pulled up against his body. Erik stepped up close to him. His big cock rested on the table, lying like a fat snake, waiting to strike, right next to the boy's hip. He leaned over him and began to feel every part of his body. “There, there, my sweet baby boy, just breathe deeply...relax...that's the way, Anders...relax.” Erik's voice was so soothing, and Anders tried to do what he was asking, but his touches seemed to make little sparks of electricity wherever his hands travelled. “Relax,” he repeated. “It's hard,” the boy said. He wanted him to know he was trying, but it was difficult. Suddenly, Erik's hand, which hand been rubbing softly on his tummy and almost down to his thing, ran over it - that's right: His hand moved the length of his thing, his penis, and he shivered like he was freezing, except he was really burning up! “It certainly is hard!” Erik said with a grin. “No...I mean...” The boy looked into his eyes, and he realized he was making a joke. Well, he was right: it was hard - no denying that! Anders grinned, and suddenly, Erik leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He lifted away, then leaned in again, and kissed his cheek. He lifted away once more and stared down at him for a moment. Suddenly the boy got an idea in his head of what Erik was going to do...but we're two guys, he thought. Still Anders knew he was going to do it.
Erik nodded, and smiled a gentle smile, then slowly bent down again, and this time planted his lips right on the boy's. He stayed that way for a moment, then lifted away, and then leaned down and nibbled on his lower lip. The boy felt the slightest suction on his lips, and then he felt Erik's tongue pressing through his lips, and then pushing against his teeth. The man broke away for a moment and looked at him. The boy was sure Erik could tell he was agitated. His heart pounded like it was about to explode. His face burned. His breathing was ragged. “Open,” Erik whispered. Anders opened his mouth a bit, and Erik quickly sealed his lips with his own. Then as he sucked the breath from the boy, Anders felt Erik's tongue pressing through his teeth.
Anders was trembling, shaking uncontrollably. My God, he thought, what's happening! As the man's tongue explored his mouth and seemed to dance with his own tongue, Anders felt Erik's hand moving on his tummy, and then it slid down his side, over his thigh, and then, dipping down between his leg, drifted back up to find his balls. The boy breathed in a sharp breath then, and his whole body stiffened. The boy made a sort of mewing sound. Erik broke away from his kissing (our kissing, the boy thought), and raised himself just enough to gaze at his face.
“Oooww...someone likes this!” Erik breathed. His fingers touched the boy's tiny balls again. Anders shook as if an earthquake were consuming his body. “Oh, yes he does!” Erik whispered. Now his fingers settled down, and pressed on his balls, and rolled them, and even squeezed them...enough so the boy knew they were there. Once he squeezed them so hard, Anders gasped, and he smiled. “Did I hurt these lovely boy-eggs? I'm sorry,” Erik said. The boy could tell he was playing. He shifted his position, and leaned down and said, “Let me kiss them and make them better.” And then he did kiss them, and then kissed them longer, and then...and then... And then, he actually sucked them into his mouth! Anders made a strange squealing sound, he couldn't help it! Erik rolled them around the way you do with a mouthful of hard candy! “Mmmmm,” Erik hummed, and the boy felt his balls vibrating. His mouth was warm and wet, and his teeth sort of scraped against the skin of the boy's sac. Anders could feel him sort of biting down, and he thought if the man wanted to, it would be so easy to bite his balls right off. It was a little scary, and he held very still. But it also felt incredible - not in his balls actually, but what he was doing to them seemed to make his whole body tingle with some kind of invisible energy. The boy wondered why he'd never felt anything like this before, and then - as if in a dream - he remembered he had.
Anders was a little boy, maybe four or five. His father restored antique cars, and he had an old compressor that he used to power pneumatic tools and paint sprayers, not to mention just blowing dust and stuff out of an area. One day, apparently, the boy discovered that if he leaned against the frame the compressor sat on, he could feel a vibration, and if he kept leaning against it - if he kept his little pee-pee against it, it began to get stiff, and there was this nice feeling that he got. Nice enough that he'd have to pull away once in a while and tug on his pee-pee because...well...just because he had to.
It got so he'd hear the compressor running, and he'd hurry down and do his leaning trick. But then one day his father figured out what he was doing and yelled at the boy. Anders was mortified that his father knew what he had been doing, and even more mortified when his father told him it was a very naughty thing, and good boys would never, never do such a nasty thing. “Don't ever touch yourself down there. Ever! Do you hear me!” Anders had forgotten about that until just now, but that feeling was just like the feeling he was getting now from Erik's touches. He thought about telling Erik that he was doing a naughty thing, and they should stop, but it was just too exciting, and he didn't want to stop - even if it was the nastiest thing ever. And even as he was thinking that, he was also asking himself how something that made him feel so good could be so bad. Now he lifted his head. His little sac stretched, and one-by-one, his two balls popped out of Erik's mouth. Even that made the boy shiver with excitement! Then Anders felt Erik's hand grasp his penis! Oh my God! He couldn't believe it. Just that little touch, and he felt like he was going to explode. His cock pulsed once, and again it was like there were some wires that went from the feeling in his thing to every part of his body! “Wha...w...what's happening!” he cried. And he almost was crying, he was so overwhelmed. “Oh, Anders, honey, I know...it's feeling so...unbelievable...it's almost scary, isn't it?” The boy nodded. “You've never felt like this, have you?” Erik held his hand still, lightly grasping the boy's little penis with just his thumb and two fingers.
“No,” he managed to choke out.
“Well, you're feeling just the way you should be. This perfect! And it will get even better!”
“When?” Anders demanded, and then realizing how desperate he sounded, he had to blush.
“Soon...right now.” And Erik began to move his fingers and thumb up and down his small penis. The boy groaned out loud. He couldn't help it. Then Erik used his whole hand to enfold it, and move over every centimeter of it. It felt so incredible that the boy didn't know if he could stand it! Then Erik re-gripped the boy's penis with just his fingers and thumb, and began to stroke him - up and down, up and down...again and again and again. The boy knew of course what he was doing because he'd heard boys at school talking about it. But he'd never done it. He thought it was something older boys did, and he thought he wasn't old enough. But Erik knew differently. It was incredible! It was driving him wild! Anders still had no clue why he was feeling this way, but he knew it kept getting better and better!
Now Eric gazed down at him, and the man seemed to see something in him, and suddenly he changed the way he was doing his up and down action. He started doing it faster and faster! It was more than Anders could stand and tears started to roll down his cheeks. “You're almost ready, Anders,” Erik said softly. The boy wondered what he was talking about. Ready for what?
The boy knew something was happening - just what exactly, he couldn't know, and then suddenly - just when he thought he was going to explode - when he thought the feelings couldn't get any more incredible, they did.
It happened almost all at once. A huge spasm hit, and it made his body go rigid. He couldn't help it! Anders dug his heels into the table top and his head on the pillow and the rest of his body arched upward, straining to do something it knew it had to do, but he didn't. And then, he felt his cock spasm all on its own - once, twice, three, four...even five times - and each time, his whole body shook like an earthquake was centered in his penis. And then suddenly it stopped, but Erik was still moving his fingers up and down, and suddenly, it was driving the boy crazy, and he had to stop him, and he was so, so tired, so exhausted, so drained of that electricity that had filled him, and he collapsed back down onto the table, panting like a dog.
“Oh, yes, Anders, good boy...what a good boy...what a sweet, good boy, to have such an orgasm. Yes, yes...baby...just rest for a while.” The boy struggled to open his eyes, and Erik smiled down at him...and the youngster managed to smile back before he just had to rest for a while.
The first thing Anders was aware of (in his dreamy state) was a soft singing - more a humming, it seemed - and then what at first seemed to be a gentle wind. Slowly he realized what he was feeling were touches, soft, light touches, so light they sometimes only touched the light, downy hair on his arms, and then his legs, and then his body.
The boy sighed a deep sigh of total satisfaction. Somehow what had just happened to him was the best thing that could ever happen to anybody, and Erik Pedersen had made it happen! The boy smiled. Erik continued to caress his body - his chest and tummy. Anders opened his mouth to speak, but he was so dry. He ran his tongue over his lips, and then he heard Erik speak in whispered tones. “Oh, he wakes...or...no?”
“That's nice,” Anders said.
“What you're doing. It feels nice.” Anders sighed contentedly.
“I know you like it...your barometer has signaled that change in the weather.”
Anders opened his eyes and looked languidly up at the man, and sighed again. “Barometer?”
“This little indicator, my love,” Erik said with a coy grin, and tweaked the small, throbbing erection. It made the boy jump. Anders grinned back at him. “Hi,” he said, dreamily.
“Hello, Anders. My goodness, my friend, you certainly had a powerful orgasm.”
"Yes, what your body did...it's the culmination of all sex." The boy lifted his head. "Sex?
“Sex indeed! It certainly felt like it to me!” Erik smiled at him the way girls smile at their boyfriends.
“Sex,” the boy mumbled. “We had...I had sex!” Sex had always been a great mystery to the boy. He'd had the lecture about how babies are made, but this was something never even hinted at in that presentation. It was something else altogether! He knew a man put his thing in a woman's virgina or something like that, and that was supposed to be sex, but nobody had ever told him about orgasms! And he knew he and Erik certainly weren't going to make any babies. That much, he knew. It made him smile.
“What?” Erik asked, seeing his expression.
Anders rolled onto his side, so he could see him better. “I thought sex was when a man and woman made a baby.”
“Well, that might be sex...but that's just one small part of it. Despite what people might want you to think, everybody can have sex. Sex is really all about making the other person feel incredible in a very special way.”
“Yeah,” Anders sighed, “but...” He blushed at the silly thought.”
“But what, my sweet?”
“But guys don't have that place that girls do...you know...where you can put it in.”
“Yeah,” Anders said.
"No," Erik agreed. He reached down and stroked the boy's thigh, and then his hand curved around to his bottom. It rested there, with just his thumb stroking gently back and forth over Anders' smooth, firm hillock. Anders eyes fluttered shut and he sighed again. He'd never imagined someone touching him back there, and now Erik was. How could something so strange - - feel so nice...so incredible?
Erik's fingers on the boy's bottom began to trace up and down along his crack. It made little shivers go up and down his body - not the huge tremors like before, but tremors for certain. "But," Erik said, again with a coy look (and with an air of mystery), "boys and men have other places." His finger dipped deeper into the boy's crack, and then touched down on his tight little pucker. The boy gasped, and shook, not just from the touch, but from a mysterious new understanding. An image of Erik's big cock pressing where his finger was suddenly filled his brain. “You liked that, didn't you?” the man asked.
Anders nodded. "Yes." Erik smiled. There was no doubt in the boy's voice.
Now Erik's hand left the boy's bottom, and suddenly sought out his throbbing spear, and his fingers lovingly stroked it, making him gasp. “There are different ways to have orgasms," he offered, “and everyone can have them,” the man said. “Yours is still dry because you haven't hit puberty yet. Mine come with semen, of course.”
“When I cum - that is, when I have an orgasm - I shoot semen. I make sperm.” “Oh,” Anders said, trying to sound very knowledgeable. “That's the stuff that man have to make babies with.”
“Yes, Anders,” he said. “But remember, it's not always about making babies. It's about making your partner feel good.”
The boy thought about that and nodded. “When will I make sperms?”
“Every boy is different. With me, I was twelve. With my brother, it was fourteen. With you...who knows.”
“I'm fourteen,” Anders said and sounding none to happy about it.
Erik smiled at the boy's apparent frustration. “You just have to wait and watch for the signs that your body is changing - hair in new places, your testicles getting bigger, your penis growing...and I'm not just talking about it getting hard!. Growing just all over.” He grinned and so did Anders.
“Puberty,” The boy said.
“What's sperm like?”
Erik was quiet for a moment. “I could show you.”
It was an offer Anders found instantly appealing. “You have some?”
Erik grinned. “Feel my balls, Anders.” The boy did, and Erik sighed at his touch and his cock throbbed. “Right in there, my love,” he said, as Anders gently rolled the egg-sized balls in his hand. “Would you like to see?”
“Yes!” Anders thought he must have sounded like a little kid asking for more cake! “Please,” the boy added more softly, hoping to sound less desperate.
“Okay,” Erik said, and he climbed up on top of the boy, kneeling so he straddled his chest. When he settled back, Anders could feel the man's butt brushing against his stomach.
Anders looked at the big cock pointing right at his face. It was only a foot or so away. Then he looked up at Erik's face. “When will it come?” he asked.
“I'm going to need some help, I think,” the man said.
“The same way I helped you have your orgasm.”
“You mean...like when you rubbed it?”
Erik smiled. “Rubbing. There are lots of names for what boys and men do - jerking off, jackin', wanking: that's what you Brits call it.” The boy blushed. He'd heard all those words. Some boys in his class whispered about that. The only thing he was sure of was that it was something naughty; the nurse who had offered the instruction on such things at the school had said as much. She left no doubt in her young charges, that this was something not to be done by healthy boys - ever. “And,” Erik continued, “the official word is masturbating. Have you heard that word?”
“Yeah.” Anders blushed again, remembering when he'd first heard the word. “At school, but also with my dad. It was about two years ago - just before the accident. We were at supper - my mum 'n dad 'n me - and my mum said she'd been listening to a talk programme, and the topic was talking to your children about 'those things' - as she said to my dad. And then she suggested it was time my dad have a little talk with me. I don't know who was more embarrassed, him or me.
“Later we had a little father-son talk, and my dad mumbled something about everything in its time, and not to be in a hurry. 'There's always... er...ahmm...masturbation,' my father told me. What I remember most about that was how red my dad's face got. He said something about a boy's best friend being his right hand, and he laughed, his face getting even redder. I guess it was meant as a joke, I didn't get it - and I wasn't about to ask for an explanation. I knew in the next form, I'd get the 'official' version from school, but I wasn't in any hurry for that either. The thoughts of sitting with girls and hearing about that stuff made me sweat. Not that I didn't want to know - everything - but somehow my dad or a classroom didn't seem like the way I wanted to find out. So...yeah, I know that word“.
“Great story,” Erik said softly. “It's not so different to what it was like for me.” The boy grinned. “So...” Erik continued, “one way to have an orgasm is to masturbate. When I made your penis feel so good by stroking it that way, that was masturbating. So...you can masturbate on your own...or you can do someone else...and Anders, I'd love it if you'd masturbate me...and that way...you can get to see my sperm!” The boy turned red, probably all over! “Go ahead, Anders,” Erik encouraged, “You'd make me very, very happy.”
Erik Pedersen's young lover looked into his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was about to do. He was going to take a man's penis in his hand - and not just any man...one of the hottest men in the world! (All the magazines said so! But the boy didn't need magazines to tell him that!) He reached out and felt his fingers closing around Erik's thick cock. When he did that, his own little cock flexed up and down.
“Ohhh, my sweet, that feels soooo nice...thank you...now...start to stroke me...up and down along the shaft...that's the way...ohhhh, what a good boy... try to do it so your hand moves the foreskin off my head...yesssss...ooooo... just like that... good boy...yesssssss...”
With all Erik's encouragement, the boy became more confident. He began to stroke him a bit faster, making sure to cover and uncover the man's head - that mushroom cap at the end of his penis, as Erik explained between ragged breaths. As he increased his speed, Erik began to grunt, and eventually the grunts became full-out groans. The boy trembled at the knowledge that he - Anders Engstrom - was driving the famous Erik Pedersen out of his mind with pleasure. “Agggrgghh...agggrgghh...aggrgghh...” The tennis star moaned with each stroke. “Anders, love, feel my balls with your other hand.” The boy reached down under the man's throbbing penis and cupped his two large testicles in his hand. They almost didn't fit, they were so big - or his hand was so small - or both. They were surprisingly heavy, and then he remembered Erik had sort of played with his, so he tried moving them around, squeezing them gently, pulling them away from his body - even though they seemed to try to pull closer to his body.
Erik looked up and he grinned at the boy and suddenly leaned down and kissed him right on the lips! Again, shivers shook the boy's whole body. This was all so new to him, but after just that one time earlier, he'd already decided he liked it when Erik kissed him. It was nice.
“Keep doing it, Anders,” Erik said. It was a bit funny to hear how desperate the man sounded. The boy realized that he had a kind of power over the grownup. But more than that, he knew he wanted to make him happy, just as the man had made him happy. So Anders kept stroking him, and he could tell by the way he was groaning, Erik liked it better when he did it faster, so he went faster. The loose skin - the foreskin, Erik called it - made a kind of slapping sound the faster he went. He could see the man's body stiffening in waves, and that's just what he did when the man was masturbating him. What a funny word. The boy said it over and over in his head. “Masturbating.” It sort of sounded dirty or exciting or sexy, and now he knew why! He knew what it meant and was really doing it!
Now suddenly, Erik stiffened all over, and Anders felt his balls pull up closer to his body, and the man groaned a long, loud sound, and Anders felt his penis get even bigger around, and then it happened. Erik sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly seemed to become paralyzed. And bang! A big mess of white goo shot out and hit Anders on the face, and then another, and another. One actually hit him in the mouth. It was hot, and slimy and salty and the boy thought it was going to be yukky, but it wasn't. It was on his tongue, and it was a strong taste, and all the time Erik was groaning and shooting. The stuff was going all over him - on his face, and neck and chest, and Erik's hips were sort of bucking, thrusting, and each time, another bolt of sperm was coming out. The boy though the stuff would keep coming out of Erik's penis as long as he stroked him, and he really liked seeing that happen. Another bolt hit his nose and in oozed down over his lips. Anders ran his tongue over the puddle of sperm hanging there, and then - the idea just came into his head, and he did it! He swallowed it.
“Oh, yes, Anders, eat my cum!” Erik groaned. “Eat it!” And the boy did. He wasn't sure why that was making Erik so happy, but it clearly did, and so Anders swallowed the tangy stuff - though it made his eyes water a bit. The boy reached out with his tongue and tried to slurp some more into his mouth, like he'd do with ice cream on his chin. Erik shot one more time, and then he seemed to collapse - much as he had done himself not that long ago. Erik put his hand on the boy's and stopped him from stroking him any more. "Easy," Erik breathed, and leaned down and kissed him. Erik actually licked up his own stuff from his face, and that amazed the boy. He leaned down some more, and he snuggles up against the small body beneath him, chest to chest, and Anders felt the man's semen being squeezed between them. It was kind of cool then, not hot like it was when Erik first shot.
“Oh my God,” Erik moaned, and he kissed Anders again, and the boy could taste Erik's sperm again and smell it. “What a good boy, Anders. You are awesome! Good boy!”
Ten minutes later, they were both in the shower, and Erik was washing the boy's body - every centimeter of it. Anders, for his part, just stood there, until the man did his bottom. Erik told the boy to pull his cheeks apart, and he did, and he gently washed all around, and the boy was definitely feeling that way again - the way he felt when Erik was masturbating him - and then he was pushing back. He hadn't even really thought about it; he just needed more of the feelings back there. It was all so confusing. Erik's touches were driving the boy wild, and suddenly he was hoping that Erik would do more than just feel around his hole; he was hoping he'd actually put it inside him! OMG, had he really just thought that! The boy didn't know where that idea had come from, but he did think it, except, maybe it was just too dirty an idea, too nasty, because Erik didn't do it.
And then they're done and Erik is drying him off. Before they showered, Erik called the person he'd spoken to earlier, and when they had gotten out of the shower, his clothes were there. Together they began to dress, and Anders was feeling...sad - sad because this is all over.
“What is it, Anders,” Erik said, reading the boy's mind, as he watched him pulling on his white briefs. The boy looked at him and felt his face growing warmer. “It was...just..um...so nice - so awesome - what we did...”
“Well...it's just...well...now it's all over, and...well...it's over.” Erik watched as the boy began to tear up.
“Do you want it to be over?” the man asked lovingly.
“No!” Anders answered quickly. “It's just that...I can't come back. I'm not allowed.”
“Oh, Anders, honey. Maybe not as a ball boy - as THAT kind of ball boy...” He reached down between the boy's legs and grabbed a handful of boy balls, so he'd be sure to get the joke. “...but you can be in the gallery.”
“No I can't,” Anders said. “On the telly they said there's not a ticket to be had, and besides...the school could never afford them.”
Erik felt his heart melt - for the hundredth time that day - and he pulled the boy to him, and gave him a big hug and a long kiss. Every time their bodies touched it was like electricity sparking every part of the boy's body, but especially his “bits and pieces“. Anders trembled, and held on to the man tightly, hoping he'd never let go. But then Erik pulled away, and looked straight into his eyes - well, just after his eyes traveled up from his feet to his head, slowing down when his gaze drifted over his middle.
“If you are willing,” Erik said, looking deep into the boy's eyes, “I'd like it if you would consider being my guest for the remainder of the tournament.”
Anders froze looking up into his eyes. “Your...guest!”
“If you want to...of course...” Erik added with a grin. “And...if you want to, you could even come down here afterward...if, as I say, that's something you'd like to do.” The boy slammed himself against the man he'd just fallen in love with, and gave him the biggest hug he'd ever gotten.
“Yes!” But suddenly, Anders knew he couldn't. Erik certainly felt the change as the boy pulled away, and now the man also felt a sense of panic flowing into him. How quickly a boy's emotions can change! In a flash being close to Erik was almost more than he could bear.
“What's the matter, Anders?”
“Nothing,” the boy said, “...it's just...well...I probably shouldn't...”
Anders felt Erik's fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Why!” The man sounded genuinely shocked and hurt. The boy felt horrible.
“Because.” Anders said.
“Anders, that's not a good enough reason.”
The boy's eyes filled with tears, just as Erik's were. “Just because. Okay.”
The man pulled him to him, and his hands traveled freely over every part of his body. The boy loved his touches, especially when they caressed his bottom. Even through his briefs, it was wonderful, and then Erik pressed against his bottom, pushing him/pulling his front hard against the man's front.
“Anders, tell me what's going on inside that beautiful head.”
The youngster felt the tennis star lean down and place a kiss on the top of his head.
“It's just that I'm going to mess everything up again.” Tears flooded down his cheeks. “I don't want to...you know...get in the way...like today.”
Erik was in awe of the boy's love, and he lifted Anders now. He seemed light as a feather, and without prompting, Anders wrapped his legs around his waist. Erik pulled him to him and covered his face with hot, wet kisses, and his own tears. “Anders, my love. You could never get in the way. Never.” He kissed him hard on the lips, and nibbled briefly on his bottom lip. All the while he held his bottom and kneaded it slowly. “Never,” he repeated. “If you are not here tomorrow, I will be heartbroken. Anders, I need to know you are going to be here. Wimbledon is for you from now on.”
“So...I have to be here?” the boy peeped.
“So...is that settled?”
The boy nodded, and the grin stretched into a wonderful, toothy smile.
“Good,” Erik said, gently patting the boy's bottom. “I'm glad that's settled. You had me worried for a moment, my sweet.” He looked down at the boy, and Anders blushed delightfully. “Now then...” Erik announced. “I'm hungry! Let's get some food!”