Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2008 11:05:35 -0800 (PST) From: Gale Adams Subject: g/m adult/young friend "Me at Nine" It was Thursday night. My mommy was at her charity work. Marcus, the teenager down the street, was babysitting me. The other baby sitter wasn't available, so this new, to me, adult ambled in. He was not very tall. He had one of those faces that makes a kid, me at least, smile back at him. It was January, shortly after the New Year had begun. He came in, bringing some snow and chill winds with him. He introduced himself to my mommy and she, brusque as always, introduced him to me, whom she not so affectionately called, the kid. He came up to me. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, pretending to watch TV, pretending I was not scared and shy. He held out his large, to me, hand and said, "Hi, I'm Mark, and you are?" I looked into those eyes. They were brown and large and they made me feel happy. "I'm ah Toby," I managed, keeping my hands to myself of course. As I always did. "Shake hands with him," Mommy said as she adjusted her coat. Always doing good things so she could get her picture in the paper. That was her. I held a thin small hand out and he touched it briefly, knowing I didn't want to. That satisfied her and she said, "Food's in the fridge, and the pop too. I'll be home about eleven." Marcus said goodbye and not to worry about a thing. Then he asked me had I had supper? I said no, kinda said no, mostly I shook my head no. He said, "Let's see what's available." His voice was kind of man/boy and I thought maybe he's scared a little, himself. So I got off the couch. I was in my Superman jimmies. The house was nice and warm. Not much of a house. Small, yes. But it was comfortable for the two of us. I went through the curtains to the kitchen and turned on the switch, which ignited a yellow dim bulb in the ceiling. I said there was the fridge, though that was superfluous, the room being so small, and the refrigerator so large, pretty tough to miss it. Then I pulled out one of the yellow wooden chairs and sat down at the table with the orange oilcloth on it. I thought let him fix the supper. He's being paid, after all. I was so scared of people then. As now. He bent over and rummaged through the icebox, turned to me, and asked if spaghetti was ok? I said sgetti was fine. He said he would take off his coat and get started then. Some people rustle when they move. They're faking it but fake it well. Some people make kind of a gliding sound. They know where the world goes and the wind stream and just naturally follow it. Kids fall and the sound is clumping and tripping. Old people rust sound squeak when they move. Kids like me, we don't sound like anything at all when we move. Because the world moves around us and we get in trouble if we forget our place. He went to the living room, and came back in a moment, with his coat gone. He wore a white dress shirt. A gray cardigan over it. He wore chocolate colored pants and white socks and wing tip shoes. I didn't know for sure then, but by his clothes, I thought maybe just maybe...and then the horror...I am not going to grow out of me at nine..ever. God. It was when the sgetti was fixed and it was put on a paper plate, all we had or needed then, and when my glass of milk was placed next to it, on the right side; I put it on the left side, because I am left handed and resent people always thinking I'm right handed, like them, like that makes them something big deal special. He fixed his own plate, got a Coke from the refrigerator. I wanted a Coke instead of milk. I hate milk to tell you the truth. Especially Carnation powdered milk, which this was. I don't care if Red Skelton is sponsored by them. I can laugh at Red and still hate his milk. So Marcus placed eating utensils next to our respective plates and just as he was going to sit down, I accidentally/on purpose, as I was picking up my fork to very badly twirl sgetti and get the sauce and the noodle things on my chin and on my jimmies--hey mommy, it was his idea, not mine-well I accidentally/on purpose knocked with my elbow the full glass of milk over. I looked at Marcus who looked at the spilled floating off the table cloth and rushing, then dripping onto the floor. He put his left hand, I realized then, somehow, in the middle of my fear and daring and anger, that his milk was on the same side, his left side, as mine. He was a leftie. And I feared that I had alienated one of my own kind. He stood up. He did not look happy or mad or resigned or anything. He just stood up and told me in a somewhat flat voice that did not resemble Richard Crenna's on "Our Miss Brooks" at all; no Arthur Denton, high pitched voice, comedy foil screw up, he. He told me to clean up all the spilled milk (and added, "don't cry over it," the meaning of which he thought I didn't understand; ok, he was right. When I finished that and put the sopping paper towels away, he pointed with his left hand and told me to go to the living room and take down my pajama bottoms. Mommy had told him if I didn't mind the babysitter, she insisted on corporal punishment so her son would learn. So, dutifully, this was hardly new to me, but it was a new person, I trudged, with my eyes on the floor, and my head down, through the curtains out to the green sofa that faced the television. He didn't have to tell me to kneel over the sofa. I took off my jammy bottoms and knelt. Awaiting his arrival. I was bare to the warm air of the heater and constructed myself in such a way that my little penis and balls weren't showing. That was always important to me, to keep them hidden at all costs. Because they were so tiny and the other kids in the gym changing room razzed me enough about them. I could feel my rear end getting red and hot in painful anticipation. And then I closed my eyes, and put my hands under my chin, as if I was saying a prayer before bedtime. And, you know?-- maybe I was. He had taken off his belt as he stood above me. He said he had to hit me five times because he could see I had done it on purpose. He didn't know the reason why. Not the real reason. I wanted to tell him later, but I thought it was kid-goofy and he might laugh. The whipping hurt. A lot. He didn't hold back. And I cried. Then he knelt beside me and put a hand to my cheeks. My face felt hot as my bare butt. He looked away from me and down at the couch. He stayed that way, kneeling, like I was, for a minute or so, then he sighed, as if he had made a very huge decision. He sat on the couch and he told me to sit on his lap. I was rubbing my butt and started standing up, then was ashamed of my little penis and balls and put my hand in front of them. He was not a muscular boy, was not terribly well developed, but he reached out big hands and raised me clear off the floor, my arms going to my sides in amazement, he seeing everything. And he didn't laugh. He did not laugh. He held me on his lap. He took off my top and I was naked on him. He put his arm round me and held me gently. I was crying from the pain, but now I was crying because someone had been kind to me, was touching me, like I was real or something. And I put my face to his cardigan and I wept like my heart was breaking. I don't think I have ever felt as warm or as cared for or as safe with another human being, before this, and after this. He told me my mom spent lots of money on groceries. That things were tight all over and people had to pinch their pennies. That I deserved what I had coming. I nodded kinda. I knew, though. He put his hand to my left leg and rubbed it and kind of rocked me back and forth. He cuddled me in his lap. And of course my little penis got stiff. I had rubbed it sometimes. It felt sort of good. But other than passing water, it was something that seemed not to be part of me. Though I wanted to keep it always. He asked if I was sad a lot and I nodded and looked up at him. He brushed by dirty blond hair out of my eyes. He asked if I knew what a pee-pee was for. I smiled great big, surge of knowledge coming out of my mouth, and said "to pass water through." He laughed and it was a laugh that reminded me how kind he was before the whipping and after. He said, sometimes your penis, your pee-pee can make you feel happy and not sad. I asked how and felt, what I would discover some time later, sexy and seductive without knowing it then. I pushed my legs up a little and nudged his hands to my erection. He touched me and I felt my penis tremble and I felt all of me tremble. It was so nice being stroked and being naked on Marcus' lap, and what a lovely name I suddenly discovered Marcus is. He leaned to my face and brought my lips to his. He kissed me. I had never been kissed like that before. He touched my balls and fondled me at the same time, and then he went back to rubbing my little one-inch hard on. He held me close and we kissed a long time. I felt the same longing in him that I suddenly felt in me. I put my arms round his neck as he opened my mouth with his tongue and our tongue tips touched, which made me so happy. I didn't know what I was doing. I only knew I was intensely delighted to do this with him. Whatever "this" was. I started panting really hard and he drew his mouth from mine. We both watched my penis get ready to make the greatest feeling I had ever had in my life. It was like a gentle spring shower inside my body, all over the inside of me, as my penis jiggled and spasmed and just rushed over me a ball of sheer joy and abandonment. For this time the borders had been removed. The box that had my name in it was gone. I had a body and he liked it, thought it not a scrawny one at all and he put his temple against mine as my penis just stood there and took bow after excited bow. He looked at me. He smiled. I smiled at him. He asked, "Did you like it?" He was unsure I realized later. He was unsure about all of this. To prove I did indeed like it, I threw my arms round him and kissed him hard on the mouth, as he stroked my butt that didn't seem to hurt nearly as much anymore. We stayed like that--me naked on Marcus' lap. I asked him, "Do you do that?" He nodded and I saw shyness and insecurity there that he had heretofore hidden. He nodded. My heart sank. "Who with?" I asked dejectedly as he played with my little brown almost invisible tits. He sighed. I closed my eyes. It wasn't me after all. He was just doing me a favor. It would of course have to end on a note like that. "Only with myself, till you, Toby, till you." And we laughed and he played with me some more. Then he said for me to get dressed. He would re-heat the sgetti and we'd have supper, for mommy would be getting ready to come home before we knew it. So we kissed again and he held my penis in his hand and said it was so warm and so soft and so perfect, and my balls too, and me too, all of me. I dressed. He reheated the food. We ate at the table, talking like magpies. And if you knew how closed-mouth I was all the time, you would think that was really something. We washed all the dishes and put them away nice and proper. We watched a little TV, and then he said it was past beddy-bye time for me, so he carried me to my bed in a corner of the living room, tucked me in, made sure I had enough covers, for it was a cold dark night. I said yes I did. My eyes sparkling. He leaned over me. We hugged each other. I wondered what his penis looked like and felt like and what if I rubbed it and what would it do mine did or didn't? I would find out before long. He said, "'Night, Tiger." I said, "'Night-" and didn't know what to call him. He smiled down at me, "Mark," he said softly. "Mark," I said with my piping high child voice. He went over to the easy chair to the left of the couch, picked up a magazine to read and soon became lost in someone else's words. I kept my eyes on him till my mommy got home and paid him. I had my eyes closed then, so they would think I was asleep. He asked her, "Would you like me to babysit next week?" She said, oh how my heart clutched, "I'll let the kid decide. The other one was pretty sloppy and didn't wash the dishes and would bring a girl over now and then, even though I expressly--I'll ask the kid tomorrow." I looked at Marcus, while she was not looking in my direction. I gave him a quick YES nod and he smiled, relieved. I heard him leave and I counted the time till next Thursday. Don't know what you think about it, but I think I was a pretty lucky kid. And would be even more lucky as I spent my precious time with Marcus, my friend. Good old Carnation powdered milk.