Date: Tue, 8 Jan 2008 12:15:42 -0800 (PST) From: Gale Adams Subject: Me at Nine 2 Me at Nine Chapter 2 By Gale Adams Mommy was sick with a cold the next Thursday and didn't go out to a charity benefit. So I had to miss Marcus till next week. She had asked me that Friday morning if Marcus had been a good babysitter. I hung my head, as she finished breakfast and I sipped the last of my milk and ate the last bight of bacon. I nodded. I was too scared she would see somehow in my eyes, and that would mean Marcus wouldn't be back. And all I had was mommy-again. She had said then, would I like to make him a permanent babysitter? I told her yes, I liked Marcus a little better--when I liked him a whole lot better---by miles. So she said okay then, it's your decision. We had a nice kitchen, small, but windows to let the sun in or in this case, the January cold and snow as they went by. The stove was on and open for us to have heat in this, the coldest room of the house. I had gone through the whole week with a boner. I thought of Marcus all the time. How I was--naked--for him and how it felt being on his lap and his arm around me-- and him doing-that-to me. I counted time always waiting for Thursday at seven o'clock. I stayed outside a lot, walked slowly past his parents' house, on my way to school, or just walking in the snow, which I loved so much. I kept hoping to see him, but never did. Sometimes I waited by the corner of the high school where he went, every afternoon, as school let out. But I never could see him. And I was kind of glad too. And sad. That happy blending of the two. That wasn't happy at all. So when the old heavy black telephone rang that Thursday afternoon, after mommy had told me and I was just really sad and angry, while she lay on the couch, with cold medicine all round and a box of Kleenex into which she constantly was blowing her nose, I answered the phone and IT WAS MARCUS. And I felt so good, but I had to just kind of keep my voice normal. He asked to speak to my mother. Didn't even say Hi Toby, just asked to speak to my mother. He hated me. I did that thing to him. I made him make me naked and stuff and he hated me for it. Probably calling mommy to tell her all that happened and she would really lay into me then. So I did the only thing I could do--I hung up the phone and started away. Mommy asked who it was. I shook my head and stalked to my room, leaving an answer in the air, wrong number. And I closed my door just as the phone rang again. I lay on the bed. I tried to get my butt in shape for a whipping. I was going to jail for what I did to him. I only wanted a friend. And I blew it. I tensed my butt muscles, when mommy opened the door. She instead said, "Kid, that was Marcus, what'dyadoin' hangin' up on him?" I put my face to my hands and I cried a little. "Look, I got enough troubles without you hanging your dopey self around here causing me grief. You're going to see Marcus." I turned over and sat up so fast I got dizzy. I could not keep the smile wiped off my face. She leaned against the wall and told me "Marcus' parents and kid sister were away for the night till late and he thought maybe you, Kid, could baby sit him hahah--so get your tush in gear and go already." I dressed and put on my coat so fast and was out the door and sliding down this icy sidewalk and another, falling once all over my ungraceful self, and sliding up the drive way to the little walkway to Marcus' stone and brick house and I gasped for breath as I rang the doorbell over and over again. Marcus opened the door. Oh my god, was it good to see him. He told me to come in and closed the door. Then he bent down and hugged me so tightly. I hugged him back just as tightly. He said, hey, don't hang up on me next time. I held my cheek to his face and said, you didn't say hi, Toby or hi at all. He looked me in the face and kissed the tip of my nose. "Being overly careful," he said. I didn't know what that meant, and when he explained it, it still didn't make sense to me. We were both so happy and so close, I didn't care if the whole wide world knew--well, I mean I wouldn't want that--but I wasn't ashamed or nothing. His house was lovely and big and the living room had two couches, one blue and one off-white, there was a big RCA color TV set and a floor model radio. The lighting was amber. The room was so warm. No wall heaters either. He said, "I thought you could baby-sit me this time." I was impatient with talk and wanted to get to it, so I said, kind of curtly, "Mommy told me already." Marcus helped me off with my coat, and then directed me to the sofa in blue and pulled me by my hand to him, as he sat. He held me close to him and spread his legs to get me closer in. He was wearing the same clothes I had seen him in last Thursday. I sat on his lap again as he closed his legs, without his telling me to. He said, "Toby, was last time okay? You know?" I told him I could have lived without the whipping. He told me that would only be when I did something wrong that I could help not do. I nodded and put my arms round his neck. I felt my neck hurt as I asked him, I had only just thought of it, if he loved me. He scrunched up his left hand and touched my face. He opened the hand and traced my cheekbones and jaw line and touched my hair that needed cutting. I felt my neck hurt because I was scared of his answer, and closed my eyes real tightly. And held on for dear life. He held me with his hands and moved his hands under my thick over shirt, to my little brown nipples that were almost invisible. He tickled me and made my penis hard. It was like little electric rays were shooting down from them all over me. And I giggled. Then he said, "Hey, Toby, since you're the babysitter tonight, maybe you could tell me what to do." I was still waiting for him to say he loved me. I was disappointed. But the other stuff sounded and felt nice. "Anything?" I asked, knowing he didn't mean it. And he nodded, and said "Anything" again. I paused for a while, put my hand under my chin, like I saw in a movie once, and said, "Well..could you touch me there--again?" He nodded firmly. "It's called a penis, Toby. Some guys call it a cock or a dick. But is penis okay with you?" I nodded fast and happy. And we went through what was to become our ritual every babysitting night. Only this time, right before I "came," like I had gone somewhere? didn't make sense. But anyways what he did was he lay me on the sofa of warm and comforting softness, on my back and he knelt beside me and put his face to my penis. He rubbed it to the great spring shower feeling and held it all the way through, then some more. He touched the very tip of it with his tongue. It felt GREAT. Then I did it again and he touched his tongue to it just as I was coming, from going nowhere, and put just the very edge of his lips on my penis and it felt so warm and so happy down there and all over. Later on, when I was dressed, and he and I were eating Cream of Wheat in a kitchen that was so impressive, beautiful, huge spotless new fridge and stove and a sink that was not stacked with a week's worth of dishes, cause I was sloppy and mommy was too busy and let things stay as they were at home till I couldn't stand it and went ahead and cleaned it up. She was always teaching me lessons like that. But was never happy when I did as she asked. I never knew why. It made doing as she asked kind of pointless. This kitchen had beautiful sparkling flooring of soft woodsy sun coloring and the table was much larger and made of expensive wood. We sat in these comfortable chairs as we ate and I drank my milk, being very careful this time. It wasn't powdered milk, either, but the real kind, and was cold and tasty and good. Later on, when I was bathing Marcus, (MY IDEA--he said `anything' after all) and I got to see him naked and to be naked with him, as we stood together in the shower in a huge bathroom that he made seem small and warm and close, like he did all the other rooms, he asked me if I was happy. He was so beautiful. And so very very nice to the touch. I loved seeing him naked. I nodded real big as I soaped his wow large penis---that made him sigh and hold his hands tightly on my shoulders. The penis was hard and stuck straight up--you could hang laundry on it, it was that strong, and huge, and with pubic hair of black on his groin and tickled his balls with my fingers. Flat chest. No hair there. Like me writ larger. Nice nipples I loved to play with. We played with each other's penises, hard, looking down at them in all that water and soapy suds. Marcus momentarily pushed me away and said, "I'm glad you're happy now, Marcus. I am too. I mean at home." The hot water cascaded on us and we were washing and soaping each other all over and my little dick was so hard, and I said, not even thinking, "I don't want to talk about my home or mommy, not ever." I looked at his eyes, just turned up my head and looked right up into them. He seemed shocked I would be so decisive, so un-Toby like about something, but he nodded and said kind of whispered ok. He said for me to turn round. I did. He soaped my back and my butt and opened the cheeks a little with the washcloth. The shower had pebbled glass doors. The soap smelled something like of honey. The cloths were huge and pacific blue with squiggle little white designs on them. Then he turned me around to him again, all the bathroom fogged by the shower water. The main thing about the house where he lived was, everything was huge. His penis was huge. His soap was huge. The washcloths were like tents. The shower, the bathroom, the medicine cabinet, which must have held a hundred bottles of pills (I peeked), was huge with a huge mirror on it, the kitchen with its stacked full fridge and huge stacked full cupboard and drawers were huge to overflowing, the bathroom was red-flocked paper covered and filled with stainless steel sink like the kitchen's. Everything just shone and glistened. There were tons of books in the cases in his huge of course room. Too big and too much was how I would call it all. He asked me if it turned him on, holding his penis. I laughed and said oh yeah oh yeah indeed. He held my face against his abdomen. I kissed him there. He asked me would I like to see him come? There was that word again. What did it mean? Come from where? If a person comes, does he have to go, in order to come back again and if he does come back again, does he get to stay? Or is Marcus going away and I got really this scared scissors feeling in my chest and suddenly held to his legs really tightly, with my face against his penis. Marcus sighed and held me to him and then he pulled me away fast--and said, panted, "watch.." and he shot this white silvery arc out of the tip of his penis that had a kind of covering over it that mine didn't, that I had been playing with in the shower, and I was amazed as the silver arc shot and shot and to the wall of the shower and then mingled with the shower water itself. As Marcus leaned against the wall and breathed hard. What the hell was it? It was beautiful. Like a little fountain. It was so mysterious. Would I do that when I was 15? Did all boys when they were fifteen? I held his penis that stayed hard. I said, after a long time,"I love you, Marcus. I love you, Mark" and I kissed his penis, tasting a bit of the stuff that had shot out, and his pubic hair that was soft and friendly. "I love you," I said again. I looked up at him. I did my best puppy dog "please" expression at him. My eyes begged that he say it too. But he didn't. He had this sweet smile on his face and he said, "I adore you, Toby." He brushed his hand cross my wet and shampooed hair. And I turned away, wordless. I quickly opened the shower door, got the big blue towel on the rack, and stood on the heavy carpeting as I dried myself off and then used some of his mommy's powder on the fancy vanity table on my crotch and my butt and some on my chest. I always did the same thing at home. I dressed as Marcus was getting out of the shower, and getting another towel to dry himself off. I hurried out of the bathroom, slamming the white enamel bathroom door shut as he opened it, still naked, as I put on my overcoat, leaving it unbuttoned. He was shouting to me to wait a minute what had he done? He was sorry. What was wrong? Come back. "Oh, please," he was crying. "Don't leave me." I was at the big thick walnut front door. I was sweating profusely. With the shower heat and the house heat and my own, I felt oppressed horribly. But. I turned around. He was sitting on the off-white sofa in that room that belonged to his rich parents. He looked lonelier and more lost than I did in my crummy house. He sat there, naked and he was Marcus who had been so nice to a nothing little kid, and why was I doing this to him? Why? It scared me. I thought, say you love me, please say it, no one has before, you don't have to mean-- And I ran to him and I knelt and I held his naked body against mine. We were like that for a long time. We talked some. Not about love. But about what I had seen shoot out of his penis and yes I would be able to do that soon. Then it was okay again. And we fixed some cocoa and marshmallows in, you guessed it, huge coffee cups, and just talked about TV and movies and stuff. Then I went home after he asked, "Next Thursday?" I nodded and said, "you bet." I kissed him on the cheek as he leaned down to me. Then I went on my way.