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 you are legally under age to be reading this, or if your reading of this material otherwise 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.
This story may not be altered in any way or placed on any site other than Nifty. If you find this work satisfying, please consider supporting Nifty with a contribution.
(For the most part I see my stories as fantasy. If they do nothing else, they ask, "What if..." Those who wish to comment, may email me at will1599s@yahoo.com)
Movie Boy
by
Will S
July, 2003
Part 1 of 2.
I didn't start out being late, but I'd gotten delayed, and I quietly fumed I wouldn't get there in time to get a good seat. The theater in the mall was close, which made it a frequent choice, but not my favorite. Anyway, I still had ten minutes before the previews started...or those damn TV commercials that preceded the previews.
"Faggot." It was a kid's voice, and at first, I thought he was kidding with a buddy, but when I zeroed in on him, I could see he wasn't kidding, and the boy was NOT his buddy. The victim was crumbled against one of the storefronts, sheltering his head with his hands. I looked around. No one seemed even to have noticed. Well, not exactly no one. Certainly no adults (and there were plenty of them) even seemed to hear that vile word. A bunch of little thugs hung back and watched, and I noticed a lone kid, watching from afar. He seemed almost as afraid as the victim. I didn't get a great look at him, but I knew he was small and I could see he wasn't about to come to anyone's aid.
This was no queer army rally appropriating the enemy's language; this was the enemy, and it was his language. Now the perpetrator was approaching for another run at the poor, helpless boy. He was sidling up to the slumped figure to hurl additional hurtful words at the child and perhaps a fist. I glanced around again. No one else was going to intercede. Damn. (I hate it when morality gets the better of me, and I have to be the good guy.)
"Hey," I snapped and reached out and grabbed the offender by the sleeve.
He looked up with belligerence oozing from every pore. My advantage was that he didn't know me, but I did know him - or his type, anyway. You can't be a middle school guidance counselor for fifteen years without running into his "type."
"Leggo." He tried to pull his arm from my grip.
If I'd been at work, I'd never have grabbed onto him in the first place, but here...no one was going to sue. I shook him once.
"Shut up. I'm not gonna LEGGO until you're ready to turn around and walk to the other end of the mall," I said quietly so only he could hear.
"I'll scream, 'pervert.'"
Lucky guess, I wanted to say, but instead... "I'll scream, 'hate crime.' I bet you don't even now what that is, so I'll tell you. It's a federal offense. Automatic jail time." His eyes widened. "Yeah, I said, "federal, 'cause you're trampling the Constitution of the United States, here. You're violating this kid's unalienable civil rights." I looked at him poker-faced. "Yeah, that's right. Either you've got lizard-shit for brains, or you haven't been paying attention in Social Studies - or both - but yeah, you're on you're way to the big time. So...go ahead: scream your bloody head off." I glanced down the mall behind the kid. "There's a mall security cop on his way, so go right ahead. Nothing would please me more."
He jerked and ripped his sleeve from my hand. He slinked off to his thuggish buddies like the defeated coward he was. I helped the other kid up off the floor, and sat him on a bench. "You all right?"
"Yeah," he snuffed. I checked him all out. A bit too mature for my tastes, but still cute. If I'd only found him a couple of years ago. "Thanks, mister."
"No problem," I said, "Just don't be dumb and go following him."
"No."
"'Cause I don't think he likes you."
"Yeah." He offered a half-hearted grin at my equally half-hearted attempt at humor.
I was late to my movie. "Damn." I hate going into a movie once it has started, and this one had. So Choice A was out. And Choice B...Bruce Almighty. Of all the damn films here, that's the only one that had any interest for me. At least Jim Carrey might make me laugh. At least it wasn't going to start for another 15 minutes.
I went in and found "my spot." Perfect. Centered to the screen side to side, top to bottom. No one else around. No one else in my row. Sweet bliss. Until the lights dimmed and the damned commercials began. Then a troupe of college girls - women, I suppose - filled up the row to my right. Shit. I debated moving a few seats to my left, but why the hell should I move? Besides, there were still a couple of spaces between me and them, and maybe they'd observe the screen's admonition to be quiet.
Now, as yet another commercial began, there was a commotion to my left. Shit again. Is there no escape? Another bunch of people deciding my row had to be the right one...but then...I noticed him. At some point a young boy, perhaps ten or eleven at most, was sitting a few seats from me. I couldn't much see him except for his cute profile...and truthfully I couldn't see much of that since he seemed to be pressing himself back into the cushioned, reclining theater seat. I debated moving closer to him, but before I could act, the group of older kids began moving in, and he kind of slid one seat closer to me. He never took his eyes from the screen.
My focus was suddenly torn. I had yet to see this boy head-on. I longed for a bright scene on the screen to throw more illumination on him. I grew warm as my heart pumped faster. I daydreamed about ways to establish that first initial contact - always the hardest.
Then the third preview started; it was "The Matrix Reloaded." The boy slinked one more seat to the right - placing himself right next to me. I froze. I glanced down and over, and saw a pert little nose, a soft cheek, a cute little ear that begged for a little nibble, and a head covered in soft, blond straight hair, rather longish, but not so long as to cover his ear or his collar. He had his hair combed over to the right, so I could see the light of the screen reflect off his forehead. He wore a t-shirt and those gawd-awful board shorts. When he'd shifted his seat - the reason for which was confounding me - his shorts had ridden up a bit, and now, he reached down with his small hands, one on each pant leg, lifted his little butt, and pulled them over his knees. Then he put his hands in his lap, and settled down.
The movie began, though truthfully, it was hard to focus. Usually with a boy, I spend days building up to contact - making sure he was right in every way. This was all happening too fast, and because of that I was on my guard. So I just sat there, forcing myself to focus on the film. After all, boys don't seek men - well, not as obviously and consciously as this boy appeared to have done, anyway. Maybe I was just hoping too much.
Well into the movie, I'd laughed a few times. And I'd heard a light, high-pitched boy giggle to my left when the monkey-in-the-butt scene unfolded. I reflected then that was what I liked about Jim Carrey. His funniest stuff seems so often locked at the level of pre-teen bathroom humor. It was wonderful hearing that laughter from the small boy next to me.
With just minutes left in the movie I'd began to lose my focus on the movie, not that it was all that riveting. But suddenly I was keenly aware of myself, and where I was. How long it had been happening, I wasn't sure. It had more or less sneaked up on me. I just knew it was happening now. I felt a warmth there. It was that simple. I looked down. It was almost black down there. My dark blue chino pant leg was invisible, and I had to stare for a moment to realize what it was that I was seeing - a merest lightness. It was the boy's right leg - or more precisely the light beige fabric of his shorts that covered his upper leg and knee. He had spread his legs and his knee was as close to mine as possible without touching. But I could feel his heat. Amazing. What a hot little boy!
With pulse racing, I glanced over at him. He gazed unwaveringly at the screen, totally unaware of what he, in his innocence, was doing to me.
But before I could act, the movie had ended and the lights were up, and then I couldn't act. As if his security had been breached, the boy jerked his knee back, pulling his legs together and, as the credits rolled, he stood. I think it's courtesy to watch the credits in their entirety. But today, I didn't see a one.
I love it when boys stand next to me and I'm seated. It's easier to see what might be of interest. On this little boy, I could detect a slight swelling right where I'd hoped. For some reason, it seemed he had gotten a little erection watching Jim Carrey. I glanced up. His beautiful face was angelic. Not with the puffy cherubic face of a three or four year old, but the strong, lean face of a boy about to enter that wondrous time of change. Puberty would hit in a year or so. I realized then that I'd seen this boy before. I recognized the face. But not from school. I'd have known that instantly, but from where? Then it dawned on me, and I smiled. Back before I got to the theater. The faggot incident. It wasn't the boy who'd been the victim. Nor the nasty little "perp." No, he was the child I'd only glanced at fleetingly - the one who'd watched the whole scene silently from afar - the boy, unresponsive and distant. Hmm.
On the way into the movie, I'd heard someone say there were out-takes with the credits; now he was waiting to pass by me, and in an effort to delay his departure, I spoke to him. "There's some funny stuff coming up," I said, nodding at the screen. He turned again and watched, his right leg now pressing against mine. I was starting to get hard. Somehow I was more uncertain than ever. I put my hands in my lap, and I felt my cheeks getting warm. I was actually blushing. For no apparent reason other than this innocent little soul was touching me, blissfully unaware. The point of contact was like a branding iron marking me as his.
A couple of times he laughed at the outtakes, his lithe little body tightening and shaking easily. When it had ended, he offered, a quiet, shy little, "thanks for telling me." There was not a thing pubertal about it. His vocal chords hadn't even thought of stretching. I stood now, to walk toward the exit. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do, and my mind raced to come up with a plausible plan. I just didn't have enough time. Rushing into something is foolhardy. That's how men like me get into trouble, and I was close to making a terrible mistake.
"That Matrix movie looks cool." I heard that small, delicate voice for the second time. Yeah, I was going to say, and I turned to him, but when I did, he was gone, tromping down the steps on the opposite side of the theater, and out of my life. My heart sank. After such a moment of anticipation. Then nothing.
On the way home, I thought about the boy and what he'd said to me. Then it came to me. It had to be! Shit! "That Matrix movie looks cool." The little bugger had issued me a personal invitation. Ha! That Matrix movie MAY be very cool!
It's wonderful being consumed by the thoughts of a boy. My whole week was one of anticipation...playing certain scenarios out, rehearsing certain conversations, considering certain locations. It made work a little more difficult, but then, hey, that's what my staff is for.
Then the weekend, and I again found myself at the mall.
The pirate movie had opened that week, and there was quite an afternoon crowd in line, many, I figured, wanting to see it. I glanced around - eagerly at first, then worriedly, and finally desperately. My boy was nowhere in sight. By the time I got to the ticket counter, I'd given up. A week of anticipation, now replaced by utter dejection. Maybe I'd misread the boy. Could that be? After all these years? Yet was what had he done really anything truly out of the ordinary? I mean how many times does someone brush by you? Or speak to you politely, which is all this boy really did. Oh God, I thought, what an asshole I am.
"What movie, please?" The 17-year-old waited, her attempt at patients simply a function of her apparent boredom. I looked up at the sign. "The Matrix Reloaded", "R", "3:10". I had no heart for it at the moment, but neither was I wanting just to go home by myself.
"One," I said, "for Matrix."
The theater was pretty full, and I had to sit higher than usual, and nothing was available toward the center of the row, so I simply sat in the aisle seat. I had scanned the auditorium as I had climbed up the stairs. The boy was nowhere to be seen. I was an idiot. How'd I think the kid was going to get into an R-rated film, anyway? Just one more indication that planning is required. Think things through. Don't let the passions take over until you're in a safe place. That was rule number one, and I'd chucked it out with all the rest.
I glanced down. A single male adult came in. One of the club, I thought, as his eyes quickly surveyed the available seats. His eyes locked on mine. I shifted, straightened up, and looked away. The last thing I wanted was some big hairy ape trying to feel me up. Everything about my actions said Get Lost! I hoped he was listening.
The lights dimmed, and those fucking commercials began again. I'd seen a younger boy with his mother as I walked in, and wondered where they were sitting now. If I could get a glimpse of the back of his dark curly head, perhaps I could at least do a little daydreaming. The previews hit, then the movie began.
Suddenly, a form was squeezing past me - a small form - a boy. He sat next to me. I looked, staring. He stared at the screen, never even acknowledging my presence. Where had he come from? I'd been watching the entranceways, and had scanned the backs of people's heads a dozen times. How'd he suddenly just appear? Maybe he WAS an angel.
One thing, he made contact - knee to knee a lot sooner this week. And it was hot. Even before he'd worked up enough courage to touch me, I could feel his warmth. My heart pounded. Perhaps...just maybe, I'd been too quick to dismiss everything I'd been thinking. Carefully, I put my arm up on the rest between our two chairs. I'd wait to see what he did.
He did nothing. My hopes began to fade. What was this kid doing? Maybe it some police scam. Maybe he was bait. Maybe they were onto me. Maybe I was being entrapped. I looked around at people sitting around me. Were any of them cops?
Now my body reacted differently - unpleasantly. And I froze. I'd make no more advances. Or...what this just my overactive imagination? Damn.
The movie had progressed and we were well into it. I'd been trying to focus on the film (once again) and knew, as everyone else in the theater knew, that something scary was about to happen. Then it did. I jumped. But not because of what happened on screen. It was because of the small, warm hand that clamped onto my arm and squeezed. A jolt of energy surged through me. Contact. We were linked, his energy flowing into me, and mine flowing into him.
When the scene ended, his grip gradually eased, but long after it was "safe," he kept his hand on my forearm - a sort of insurance, I figured. Eventually, I moved my other hand over and gently moved his hand down to mine. I grasped his small hand, and he haltingly took hold of mine. I thought I heard him sigh. We were in dangerous territory, and I struggled to clear my head.
We held hands for a long time. I knew from experience that holding hands seated next to each other can put a strain on a child's arm, so I now shifted, suggesting that I was the one needing a new position. I let my left arm drift down between the arm of the chair and his right leg. He sucked in a breath and straightened up a little. But he kept his hand in mine. Again, I felt that marvelous heat emanating from his body. We sat like that for the rest of the movie. Each time a scary place came, he'd squeeze my hand tighter. Finally, he leaned toward me, and I felt his soft hair pressed against my arm. I reached over with my right hand and gently squeezed his right bicep. It was surprisingly firm for a small boy, and I wondered at what marvelous thing I held in my grasp. Who was this angel? Why had he come to me? I throbbed with hardness, and yet simply holding him was at the moment oddly release enough for me.
When the movie ended, he straightened up a bit, and slowly let go of my hand. I squeezed his upper arm firmly, and let my hand slide down his skin, and pulled away. Similarly with my left hand, I reached out and squeezed his thigh under his shorts. He sort of gasped, and from the corner of my eye, could see him shoot a look up at me. What was he thinking? Did my touch please him, or frighten him? I wasn't sure.
"It was a little scary, huh?" I asked, determined to pursue him.
"Yeah, I guess," he answered. "I'm glad I came, though." he smiled nervously.
I smiled back, choosing not to say much. People were standing now. "I guess we better move." I stood, and so did he. He wiped his t-shirt sleeve over his mouth, licked his lips, and swallowed.
"I got kind'a thirsty, but I didn't want to miss anything," he said in his soft, shy boy soprano.
"Would you like a soda?"
He looked up, and for an instant was quiet and serious. He seemed to sense what his answer might mean. Finally: "Okay." Just that. Not even a "sure." Just okay.
We started for the refreshment stand. I glanced down at my watch. It was after 5:00.
"Hey, you hungry?" Again he thought about something - something other than his hunger, I thought.
"I don't really like the food court food."
I grinned. "Yeah, neither do I, but how about Granger's?"
Granger's was the closest thing to an old-fashioned drive-in I could think of. You drive into a parking space, and there was a speaker over which you place your order. Then they bring it out and hook a tray over your window with your food on it. Very Retro!
"Granger's! Cool!"
Well, at least I knew he was a local kid. Now the next test: "You need to let your folks know?"
He frowned. "Nah...so long as I'm back by seven."
"No problem," I said. He'd passed the test, but then almost instantly, I was on guard again.
"Let me walk out behind you, okay?" he asked softly.
I shrugged.
I started out, looking up. Approaching us was a mall security guy.
"Hey," I heard him say after I stepped past him, and then I thought I heard my boy say, "hey" back.
I almost froze. Okay, what's going on? But I kept walking. I figured the worst that could happen is that I'd get outside, turn around, and the boy would be gone. No, what would be worse, would be to have a cop in his place. Shit.
But I didn't want to do anything to risk looking guilty, so I kept up my pace. At the exit to the mall, I hit a crowd of people, which slowed me down. I felt someone at my hip, and it was him. Now as I walked to my pickup, he walked along beside me.
And then we were climbing into the cab.
"Cool," he said.
"Okay, champ," I said, finally feeling a little more secure. "You sure it's okay? I don't want your folks worried or anything. You sure you don't want to call?" I held out my cell phone. It was my overactive imagination - call it paranoia - but I figured he was wearing a wire.
"It's just my mom," he corrected, "and nah, it's cool. She's workin'."
"So," I said as we headed for Granger's, "you have a name? I'm Dan." I held out my hand.
"Chip," he said, taking my hand and shaking it. The soft, silky hand set me on fire.
"Nice to finally meet you - officially - Chipster," I said. He giggled and beamed, like playing with his name meant something very special.
"Yeah," he mumbled.
We placed our order, and waited. I scrunched around in the seat, pulling my right leg up and resting it on the seat. He was practically a mirror image, except it was his left leg, and he was about two-thirds my size. It was really the first time I could gaze upon him, study him, scan him.
His face was perfection, save for a chip out of one of his top front teeth. I'd ask him sometime if that was where he got his name. His eyes were the color of the sky on a clear, cool Montana summer day - deep, bright, sparkling blue. His neck was maybe a bit longer than you'd expect, and it couldn't have been more than thirteen inches in circumference, but it was strong and firm, and he held himself erect. (Oh, God, how I fantasized that he was!) His hair was like a surfer's: blond, stylishly unkempt, but somehow I figured that it was all pure Chip: 100% natural.
His eyebrows were darker, and his eyelashes darker still. His skin was sublime, silky, smooth, and I longed to run my hand across it. His ears were sharp, taking everything in. They, too, were perfect, neither sticking out, nor flattened unnaturally against his head. Everything was perfectly proportioned. (Oh, please, how I hoped EVERYTHING was! I flashed a glance toward his crotch with my patented Danny blink/squint/rub peek. But there was nothing I could detect - not without a closer exam, anyway. He was the most handsome boy I'd seen in a long, long, time. And here he was sitting with a happy pedophile in a truck.
"So...you in...what, the seventh grade?"
He kind of grinned this shy grin and shook his head. "Nah, I'm just eleven; I'm in sixth."
"Wow!" I said, stroking his ego. "Kind of big for eleven, aren't you?" The truth was, I'd have guessed sixth or maybe even fifth, if I'd hadn't wanted to inflate him a little.
"There's a lot of kids bigger." He thought a bit, then added, "Even girls."
"Well," I said, never missing an opportunity to titillate a little, "you know about how girls enter puberty before boys, right? I mean everything starts growing faster with them. You're probably gonna' have ta' wait a little before your 'equipment' starts getting bigger." I put my hand down on my package and cupped it. I'd have loved to have done it to him, but I needed to go a little slow. I thought I was reading him the right way, but I wanted to be sure - and not make any mistakes.
He grinned, knowing exactly what I was talking about. Almost involuntarily his eyes flashed down to his own unseen 'package'. He blushed in the most pleasing boyish way and grinned.
"When?" he asked, then feeling he might have crossed some boundary, babbled quickly on. "I mean, you know, how do ya' know? I mean, there're lots of boys who're bigger'n me."
"Well, Chip, it's different for every boy. Me? I guess ya'd say I was kind'a a late bloomer. I didn't start...um...you know...getting hair n' stuff... down there...an' havin' my dick get, you know, bigger ...until I was thirteen...." I tried to sound as much like a kid as I could. I wanted him to feel totally equal to me. I continued: "...but I didn't care all that much I guess. That's not the most important thing in the world, and I guess I knew I'd catch up. What d'you think? Did I turn out okay?" I grinned and watched as his eyes dropped down to look at the swelling under my pants. I studied him closely. He wasn't entirely comfortable, but all boys, when there's any kind of talk about sex, no matter how tepid, get their juices flowing. I could tell underneath the discomfort, there was another sensation...this one mildly arousing. I wondered if he understood what he was feeling.
He shrugged a huge, dramatic shrug, lifting his shoulders, his arms, and his hands. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I guess."
Should I drop it, or push a little further. Hell...why not. "Well, I can tell you without a doubt, I'm bigger than I was when I was your age." I reached out and poked him under his arm. He snorted out a sharp giggle. "Well, dah," he mumbled between giggles. "And besides, I kind of like boys who..." I stopped, like I'd said the wrong thing. "Well...anyway...don't be in a rush, Chipster, my man."
He was quiet for a while. I could almost see the wheels turning. Before either of us had a chance to say anything, our food arrived. Finally, between bites, he said what was on his mind. "What were you going to say...you know, about liking boys who...what?" He wore a look of concern or intensity or something desperate. This wasn't some casual inquiry for him.
"Well," I said, first looking down, then looking straight into his eyes, "I was going to say, I like boys who aren't into puberty yet...Close maybe...but just about the way you are. Yeah," I said, "I guess that's what I was gonna' say. You okay with that?"
I watched as he processed all that information. He swallowed hard, reddened, then shrugged. "Yeah," he said softly. He listened to himself, and then repeated what he'd said, with more conviction this time. He grinned, then took a few more bites of his hamburger. I smiled at him, and with a full mouth, I watched his eyes sparkle with pleasure.
"Okay, Chip, I gotta question for you. Ready?"
He nodded, anticipating.
"How can an eleven year old get into an R-rated movie?"
He got red again, then grinned. "My mom's the projectionist for the theater."
Suddenly a lot made sense.
"That's why you're at the theater all the time?"
He grinned. "On Saturday's and Sunday's I am...upstairs in the projection booths...or in the mall hangin' out."
"Cool," I said. "Yeah." That's why the security guy spoke to him. That's why he didn't want me to walk with him through the mall. He was being as furtive about this as I was. Interesting. I looked back at him, and he wore a troubled expression. Oh, shit, I thought, what now?
"Something the matter, Chip?"
He shrugged. "I dunno...It's my mom...I think there's something goin' with her and work. She just seems..." He shrugged again. "I dunno...different."
"Sometimes grownups just have a lot on their minds. Sometimes work gets to be a real hassle."
"I guess," he mumbled.
"What'd you think about the movie?" He smiled now, seemingly glad for a change in the conversation.
"Matrix Reloaded? It was...cool, I guess. Kind'a scary in places. I was glad you were there." He smiled, and looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes.
"Yeah," I said, "me, too." I grinned. "That's two weeks in a row. What're we going to do for an encore?"
He shrugged. "We could go see 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. Then I could..." Now he stopped, and reddened and took another bite of his burger.
"Yes?" I said raising my eyebrows.
He got redder - right up to the tips of his ears. "Well, we could hold hands again."
"Hell, Chipster, we don't need to go to the movies to do that." I reached out and rubbed my hand on his smooth hand, and up his arm, then back down again. He suddenly seemed to be breathing harder now, and he stayed red. He looked away, and took a long drink of soda.
"So...can I ask another question?"
He shrugged. "You're weird," he said, then suddenly looked worried. This was another step in our journey. "Weird, huh?" I said as I pulled him to me. He held his drink in his hand, so he was limited in what he could do, but I had my arm around him and tickled him mercilessly. "Weird," I muttered.
He laughed with the wild, free laughter of childhood. I loved to hear him laugh like that. "Stop," he begged. "Please."
"Weird. See if I ever ask you to go to the movies with me."
Suddenly he stopped giggling, and stiffened. His eyes started to fill, and I knew I'd made a mistake. "Chipster," I whispered into his ear, "I'm only kidding. I'd love to go to the movies with you anytime. Anytime at all." I pulled him closer and hugged him. "Don't be upset, Chip, I'd go with you anywhere."
He snuffed into my shirt. "You would? Really?"
"Absolutely. Anywhere. Anytime..." I lowered my voice, "...'cause you're the Chipster." I tickled him again, and the bad time was past and he giggled like the little boy he was. "That's better," I said. "Now...how about that weird question?"
He shrugged again.
"Okay, it's a toughy. Why me?"
He looked like he'd been caught at something, and lifted away from me slightly.
"I mean, that first day, how come...with all the seats in that theater, you sat down next to me?" I looked at him and could almost read his mind. "And shrugging doesn't count."
He smiled. "I dunno...I guess..." He looked into my eyes. "I saw you with the kid last week. Remember? 'Faggot.'" He reddened, very serious now, and looked out through the windshield. "You seemed...like you might be..." He reddened again. "Nice," he said. I had the distinct feeling he was heading toward a different descriptor, but "nice" would do.
"Well, that boy didn't deserve that shit." I watched for his reaction, and I got one. It's nice to see a four-letter word can still shock some eleven year olds. Then he relaxed a bit, feeling a bit more like an adult, and happy to be part of an adult conversation.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said.
Now I shrugged. "Turn about's fair play."
"Huh?"
I smiled. "If I can ask questions, I guess you can, too."
He smiled back. "Um..." He swallowed hard. "Are you gay?" He let his eyes settle on mine for just an instant, then looked down.
One thing I love about kids is that the more innocent ones get right to the point. No pretense. Normally I'd tell somebody that it's nobody's damn business what I am, but there was a reason this boy was asking this question of me.
"That's kind of personal, isn't it?" He blushed, and looked like he was about to cry again. The boy wanted so much to please. "But," I said quickly, "if you want to know, I'll tell you. It's just that it's kind of scary for me."
He slowly looked back at me. "Why?"
"Because, what if my answer isn't the one you want to hear. Then I'm afraid you won't want to be my friend."
"You want to be my friend?"
"Mmm-hmm. Very much."
"Why?"
"Because I like you, Chip." I reached out and rubbed my hand up and down his thigh. He stared down at it, unmoving.
"Well, I like you, too, Dan. I'll like you no matter what."
I swallowed, trying to make it look like a big deal. Well, to the truth, it was a big deal. It's not something I usually tell an eleven year old. Hell, it's not something I usually tell anybody. "Well, Chip, you got me. I am gay."
His head shot up and looked me in the eyes. He didn't move. He just sat looking.
"Are you okay with that?" He nodded. No shrug this time. "Good," I whispered, "I'm glad." I reached up and ran my fingers under his longish hair on the back of his neck. I traced up along the edge of his hair, fondling the soft space behind his ear, then traced down along his neck, along his firm jaw-line and off the end of his dimpled chin. His skin was a smooth as butter. I loved feeling him, feeling his smoothness, feeling his warmth. When my fingers finished their exploration, he sighed a long slow sigh.
"So, what does that have to do with my question?"
"Huh?"
"My question: why me?"
"'Cause," he said, as if it should be all too obvious. "I mean, I saw you help that kid, an' he was gay."
"True, but you don't have to be gay to help someone out who's being dumped on. And who knows? Maybe he isn't gay! That asshole didn't know, didn't care; he was just being an..."
"Asshole," Chip said. He grinned like he'd just said the worst thing he could imagine to his mother - and gotten away with it.
"Right," I said.
"But, you are gay."
"Yeah, Chip, I am."
"I've never known a gay person before."
"No? Maybe that's why I'm so weird!" I poked him and he sputtered out a giggle.
"No, it's not that," he started to protest.
"Oh, something else, is it? Do I chew with my mouth open or something?" I poked him again.
"No," he breathed between laughs, "I didn't mean weird, like weird."
"Oh, Mr. Chipster, that clears it up."
Now he was in gales of laughter, and I laughed along with him. Finally, when he settled down, he spoke again. "Well," he said coyly, "you are weird, but I like you." He looked down, and deliberately patted my thigh. His light, delicate touch right through my pant leg almost made me shoot right then and there. "What's it like...being...you know...gay?"
"Well, as you've noticed, when I drive my truck, I steer with my feet, the way all gay guys do. And when we pee, we have to stand on our heads!"
He had this incredible look on his face. Now he rolled his eyes up into his head. "Jeesh. You ARE weird!" He laughed. "No, I mean, what's it like to...um..." Now with the laughter gone, it seemed really quiet. And his question seemed to hang right there, right in our faces. "You know...to...um..."
One more giant leap, I thought. I filled in the words for him: "...to have sex with another guy, another man or a boy?" I locked my gaze onto him.
He swallowed hard. "Boy...yeah," he breathed, the words catching in his throat.
"Well, Chip, d'you know a lot about sex?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Not much, I guess."
"Well, have you ever had sex?"
"NO!" he almost shouted, then, realizing how he sounded, he repeated. "I mean, no...I haven't. I'm too little."
"You are? You sure about that?"
"Yeah, everyone knows that. Because ya' gotta' be in puberty and all that stuff."
"Hmmm... Is that what you learned in health class or something?"
He blushed, then shrugged, and mumbled, "I guess."
"Hmmm. Okay."
He chewed on that for a minute. He knew there was more to be discussed here.
"Hey," I said, "it's getting a little late. Maybe I ought to get you back to the mall."
A wave of disappointment flooded over his face. It was a look that said, hey, it's just getting interesting.
On the drive back, he asked me one more question. "Was I right?" he asked.
"About what?"
"About little kids having sex."
"Well...maybe that's something you should ask your mom."
"No way!" Well, that was clear enough.
"Chip," I said, as I pulled into a mall parking space. "...look, at me." He did. I reached out and rested my hand on his knee, then reached up under his shorts and gently stroked his inner thigh with my fingertips. His eyes widened. "You feel that?"
He nodded and breathed, "Yeah."
"Is it kind'a sending shivers everywhere?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, I'd say that's the beginnings of sex." He swallowed hard, and flushed. "But you know this is kind of dangerous. People wouldn't understand if they knew we were talking like this...doing stuff like this. I mean, I could tell you about sex, and show you stuff..." His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he was panting as if he'd run a marathon. I stroked his thigh again. "...but if anyone found out, we could get in a lot of trouble."
"I won't tell. I promise. Dan, I promise! A thousand times over!"
"Well, I've got to think about this. I need some time."
"We could meet at the theater next Saturday!"
I smiled. He had it all planned out, and the truth was, so did I.
"Sounds like a plan." Tell you what. I'll park and wait in my truck at one o'clock. If you want to find out more, I'll tell you what I've decided...Because I really don't want to get into trouble."
"I don't want you to either."
I smiled. "Thanks. I know you don't."
"I'll be here. One o'clock," he said.
"Well, you've got a whole week to decide. And either way you decide is okay with me, you know? I just want you to be sure you're making the right decision for you. Okay?"
He nodded. "Okay!" He climbed out of the cab. "See ya'!" he said, slammed the door, and was off.
In some ways, it seemed like the longest week of my life. I knew what the boy would want to do, at least I was pretty sure of it, but just how to proceed. I got my place cleaned up, putting some of the more racy pictures of me and my former young friends out of sight. I'd found that pictures of other kids was pretty damaging to a boy's delicate ego. It's all about competition. Better to have them think they're the only one - now and ever.
I cleared out the garage a little, so I could drive right in, and not risk having the neighbors see him getting out of my truck. I plotted my route, to try to confuse him a little, so if things did go bad, he couldn't bring the police right to my home.
I went to the store and got some condoms and KY, not that I'd planned to use them, but if he had gotten any kind of real sex education, maybe he'd insist on it. Besides, I wasn't sure how far we'd get this first session. Sometimes boys, if they're really uncertain, demand to move really slowly. Others want it all instantly.
I figured if I picked him up at one, then we'd be walking into the house at about 1:30. That'd give me about five hours to begin his initiation. I smiled at the thought. I pulled out some of my boy porn videos and reviewed them. I selected a few to have at the ready, in case it seemed like that might help. With a few boys, I've found their reluctance was only overcome when they actually saw man-boy sex before their very eyes. Where every other attempt at cajoling, enticing, toying was met with resistance, seeing it in the raw, and seeing the boys' reactions, their little humping dry orgasms, was the key that unlocked all their desire. I wondered about my boy, the Chipster.
At one o'clock Saturday, he was there, on the dot, waiting.
"Hi," he said, climbing in.
"Hey, Chip. How's every little thing?" I gave him a leering smile, and he blushed. I pulled out and headed toward home. "Hey, Chipster, better buckle up."
"Where're we going?"
"Well, I thought we might want to find someplace where it'd be a little more private, ya' know? I mean, I guess we could just stay in the truck and talk, but...I don't know, it seemed...kind'a limiting in what we could do."
"Do?" His eyes widened, and he shifted in his seat. Chip was a smart boy. He didn't miss much.
"Yeah, I guess. I don't know."
"So, where ARE we going?"
I pulled over. "I guess I should've asked first. I thought we might go to my house. Is that okay?"
He swallowed hard. His imagination was going a mile a minute. "Yeah," he breathed, and it seemed as though my suggestion was more than he had dreamed of.
"So, um...Dan...Can little kids like me have sex?"
"Ahh, you have been thinking about it."
"Well, dah. 'Course!"
I smiled. "Any guesses?"
"But doesn't that stuff have to come out of...your...you know?"
My smile grew. "Let's just wait 'til I can give you my full attention. If I get talking about this stuff now with you, I might forget to steer. You'd make me have an accident!" I looked over at him and he giggled.
I was just about on target. I rolled into the garage at 1:25. Usually the trip'd only take about fifteen minutes, but I'd added so many twists and turns I almost got myself lost.
"Nice house."
"Thanks, Chip. You want anything to drink - water, soda, lemonade?"
"Nah."
"Okay," I said, "Let's go." I worked to keep my heart from pounding through my rib cage.
"Where?"
I shrugged. "Somewhere where we can be comfortable. Den...living room...bedroom."
He straightened up. "Any thing sound good to you?"
He got as red as I'd ever seen him. "Um...not really...maybe the...den..."
"Okay," I said, agreeably.
"Or...do you think the bedroom'd be okay?"
I shrugged. "Up to you, babe."
He cocked his head and gave me a look when he heard the word, 'babe' applied to himself. He looked down at his feet. "Ummm, maybe the bedroom's better."
"Maybe," I said, and we headed off.
In the bedroom, he just stood, looking. I had a lot of electronics in there. HDTV, awesome audio...and of course a big bed.
"Cool," Chip offered. I smiled. "Um, what should I do?" he asked tentatively.
"I don't know, maybe sit down or something...or do you want to stand all afternoon?" I grinned, and he grinned back. He moved to the edge of the bed and sat. Good. He'd committed.
I scooted up beside him, then slide behind him and lay down. He twisted around, and eventually sat cross-legged, Indian-style staring at me.
"Okay, Chip, where should we begin?"
"You never answered my question."
"Okay, one rule. You've got to be always honest. That's important anytime, but especially when you're talking about sex. If you have a question, spit it right out. If you've got something to say, say it. Use whatever words you want to. But the more direct you are, the better it will be. Okay?"
"Yeah," he said breathlessly. I wondered if he was already beginning to get aroused. I sure was.
"Now," I continued, "About sex and boys your age. That's easy. Boys your age, as you know, can't cum..." I waited. "You know what I mean when I say 'cum'?"
He swallowed hard, then looked down at his feet in his lap, and shook his head.
"Then ask." I raised my eyebrows.
"Um, what's cum mean?" His voice fairly shook with uncertainty.
"That's what a lot of guys call an ejaculation. That's when - like you said in the truck - that stuff comes out of your...what."
"Your penis." He blushed again.
"Excellent," I said sounding like a consummate teacher. "And what are some other names for penis?"
"Cock," he began softly.
"Good."
"Prick...dick...."
"Any more?" He looked blank. "How about johnny, willy, rod, bone, member, organ, meat, tool." He reddened again. "You got a favorite? What do you call it when you're talking to your friends?"
"Ah...dick, I guess. But," he added, "I don't really have any friends...'cause...well...they say I'm gay."
"You don't have any friends!" I couldn't bare to think about my boy being all alone.
"Well, there's this one kid who kinda' likes me, I guess. I think you'd like him, too, but I really haven't talked to kids about it, except on my baseball team, 'cause this one kid got hit in the nuts."
"Oooowww," I moaned. "That must'a hurt." I placed my hand deliberately down on my cock and balls and rubbed suggestively.
Chip looked, eyes wide open, and smiled. "Yeah."
"You know, that's something weird about sex. We've got these body parts that we use when we're having sex, and all the rest of the time we kind of pretend they aren't there...you know...like your penis...your balls...your butt." I was watching his reaction. His expression kind of went blank when I mentioned his ass. "We don't talk about them, and we keep them covered up, but when we're having sex, then nothing hidden, everything's out in the open...you can talk about them, see them, touch 'em, kiss 'em, suck 'em...everything." His eyes were about to pop. "It's pretty awesome. So, anyway, yeah, boys..." I stopped, then began again. "Chip, here's the answer that I think you really want to hear: "Yes, Chip, you can have sex. Isn't that what you were really wondering?"
He swallowed hard. "Yeah...it was." He shifted uneasily on the bed.
"What got you interested in sex, Chip?"
He shrugged. "I dunno, I just heard some kids talking."
"About what?"
"You know, doing it."
"With girls? Other guys?"
"I dunno." He looked down.
"Okay, Chipster, here's that hard question again: Why me? Why did you have to know if I was gay before we started down this road? What did you think was going to happen? What did you want to happen?"
He looked at me with those huge blue eyes. He bit his lower lip, and his veins in his neck popped out and I could see the blood pulsing through them.
"Honest," I reminded him.
He looked down at his feet...or was it his crotch? "I think I'm gay," he whispered, looking terribly uncertain. He was a courageous boy. I lifted myself up, and reached out my arms, and pulled him to me. His legs unfolded, and he snuggled into my embrace.
"Why do you think that, honey?"
He snuffed once. 'cause the kids call me names like that kid was doing at the mall."
"But like I said, that doesn't mean you're gay."
"But they said I like boys better than girls."
"That's just mean kids talking."
"But it's true. An' they said, stuff...about....what I like to do...you know...sexy stuff, and that I wouldn't know what to do with a girl, 'cause I only want ta' do it with boys."
I ran my hand down his back. I felt a hot tear spill over onto my chest. "Don't worry about what they say."
"But it's true. That's why I wanted a gay man...I mean when I heard you...I thought...I wanted...I wanted you to tell me...you know...show me..."
"It's okay, Chip. You know me a little bit, right?" I felt him nodding. "Well, except for the fact that you think I'm weird, I'm pretty happy, right?"
I saw the hint of a smile. "I guess."
"Well, I am, Chipster. I am gay and I'm happy. And you're making me even happier."
"I am?" He snuffed once.
"Yeah, because I feel so good that you've come to me, that you're letting me help you, that you trust me. That all makes me feel great! And, I'll tell you the truth, I don't know if you're gay or not. Because sometimes young boys think they're gay 'cause they do like other guys, and want to try stuff, but they aren't really. And sometimes, guys pretend they like girls, and they do this all through high school and everything, but deep down, they know they'd like having sex with other guys better. So, sometimes it takes a long time to figure it all out. But...no matter if you're gay or not, I think we could really have a lot of fun together doing...you know...sexy stuff. It'd be awesome!"
Chip lifted his head away from me now. "Really?"
"Really!"
"Can we...'cause..." He looked into my eyes, then turned away. "...'cause that's what I was really hoping." There. He'd said it. All this was to set me up so I could initiate him into the ways of gay sex.
"Well, I don't know how fast we should go. I can tell you about all kinds of gay sex, masturbation, blow jobs, fucking...but maybe we ought to just go slow."
"Fucking?" he said.
"Yeah," I'd promised to be honest, but I guess I was hoping he'd let it go at that. I didn't want to scare him off.
"But how? I mean, I know about...a guy doing it with a girl. He puts his thing in her cunt...you know...fucking like that." Well, he had the lingo down alright. "But how do two boys do it?"
I smiled. "Well, Chipster, you just jumped from sex 101 to the advanced class." He grinned. "It's called anal sex." I studied him, watching the light dawn...sort of.
"In your butt?"
I smiled, and nodded. I moved my hand down his back, and let it rest on his bottom.
"But what do you do?"
"Can I touch you...there?" I asked. I continued to massage his butt cheek and looked into his eyes. He seemed to shake with uncertainty, but he finally nodded. I pulled my hand back and slipped it under his shorts. I felt the waistband of his briefs. I'd assumed he wore briefs. Boxers would have revealed more when he'd gotten an erection, and I figured if he was like most kids, he must have gotten an erection when we first startedtalking. I let my hand drift down his hot ass, his thin cloth underpants the only barrier between my hand and his sweet, small, firm, boy butt. My finger found the furrow, and I traced down it. His cheeks tightened. I pressed softly in and found his pucker through the thin cotton. He shivered. "You can put things inside your hole - a finger, maybe, or other things - maybe even a penis...and that's how a guy can fuck another guy." He seemed to think about that. I saw no revulsion, in fact there was an open curiosity."
"Really?"
"Cross my heart."
"Why?"
"Chipster, 'same reason for guys to have any kind of sex. Because it makes a guy feel awesome. It's the most awesome thing you've ever felt!" I let my whole hand cover one of his cheeks, and I pulled him to me. "Oh yeah, Chip, that's what sex is all about...feeing so awesome. When kids want to know about sex, their question is, how? But the first question should be why?"
"In health, they said to...prop...propergate...the race."
"Propagate," I gently corrected. "You know what that means?"
He shrugged. "Have babies?"
"Exactly. It's true...partly. But think about. No matter how many times two guys have sex, there ain't gonna be no propagating." He grinned. "And, for that matter, do you think every time straight people have sex, it's to have a baby?"
He grinned again. "No?"
"So, the answer to why is, because when two people care about one another, and want to share themselves with each other, one way is by having sex...because they want to make each other feel so awesome." I paused. "And some people have sex just because it's fun - it feels awesome!"
Chip thought about this, and while he did, I thought about how incredible this was, this boy, this perfect boy, laying in my arms on my bed, my hand feeling the warmth of his muscled melons.
"Sex makes you...like...feel happy?"
"Well...for starters. In health class did they talk about orgasms?"
"Or...gasm? I'm...not sure."
"An orgasm is sort of the culmination of sex." I looked over at him. He was all ears, desperate to know everything. "There are sort of like steps to sex, each step taking you higher, and then, you get to your orgasm...and it's this incredible feeling. It's emotional, yes. Happy, excited, incredible. But it's a physical reaction, too. You really feel it everywhere in your body, but especially in your penis." My hand was still sandwiched between his shorts and his underpants. Now I slid my hand around, drifting off his butt to his front. I felt his two and a half or three inches of hardness pulled close to his body by the tight cloth. When I touched him there, he sucked in a sharp breath, and shuddered, and kind of pulled away. A normal reaction for a shy boy. I smiled.
"Oooww wow," I said. "You're hard like iron."
He grinned. "I...I...can't help it."
I laughed. "'Course you can't. It's only natural. It's what happens when you start feeling sexy. Feel good?"
"Yeah...different...weird?"
"Weird?"
"Well...nobody's ever touched me there...except...you know...my doctor."
"No even your mom?"
"No! Well, not for a long time anyway...when I was little, I suppose."
"Is it okay if I touch you there? B'cause I'm not gonna touch you the way your doctor does." I raised my eyebrows. "Ya' know?" I grinned. "So...is it okay to touch you there?"
He was breathing harder. He blushed - yet again. "I guess so."
"Because if it isn't, then it's gonna be pretty hard to show you about sex."
His eyes got bigger, and he ran his tongue over his lips - an incredibly sexy thing to watch, that beautiful tongue darting out between those two lips, red and firm. I wanted so badly to kiss them, but little boys sometimes are turned off by that. It feels too effeminate or something, so for now, I'd have to deny myself that pleasure.
"It's okay."
"Good," I said, keeping my hand against his front. "Show me it's okay. Show me you want more."
He looked momentarily confused. "How?"
"Think about it for a minute. You'll think of something."
He did, then blushed, and slowly pushed himself into my hand. My palm pressed against his cloth-covered penis. My fingers stretched down and cupped his tiny balls. I moved ever so slightly. "Mmmm, that's so nice," I moaned and then asked, "So...where do we go from here?" I gently rubbed my hand against his little cock.
He looked up with such a look of longing. "Dan," he said, blushing, "I want to know what it feels like."
"What feels like?"
"An or...or...gasm."
I smiled, and pulled my hand from his cock and hugged him tightly to me. "There's only one way for you to know, Chipster," I whispered.
"I know," he answered. "Will you show me?"
I moved my hand to the back of his head and slowly played/patted with his smooth, gorgeous hair. "I'd love to," I breathed. I started my exploration of his body. My hands began moving up and down his t-shirt-covered torso. He stiffened. "Try to relax," I whispered. I felt his arms and his ultra-soft downy hair there, and his smooth, soft skin, and his firm, strong boy muscles. He sighed. My other hand played on his neck and the side of his face. It seemed as though his body was as tight as a string on a fiddle. "Really, Chip, try not to be all tense. That'll come later. For now, just see if you can enjoy what I'm doing to you."
"Why are you feeling me?"
"First, because you feel so good. Then, to...get to know you better; I love feeling you in my hands. And third, it's kind'a that first step in sex."
He snorted a soft giggle, and nestled in closer to me.
"We're really gonna' have sex!"
"That's up to you, Chip. Do you want to?"
I could actually see the blood pulsing throughout the veins in his body. "Well, yeah!"
"Maybe we should make things a little easier...can we get rid of this thing for awhile?" I tugged on his t-shirt. I felt him nodding. I eased him up, and quickly drew the shirt off his body. "Oh, Chip," I said, gazing at him.
"What?" He looked at me as if something was wrong.
"You're so beautiful."
He blushed. I could have said 'handsome', that's a good, safe boy word, but he was beautiful, and I wanted him to be open to hearing that from me. His skin was perhaps a shade lighter under his t-shirt, or more accurately, darker where the sun hit it all the time, on his arms. He was quite well proportioned for an immature eleven year old. He'd lost his baby fat. He was indeed on the cusp of puberty. Maybe I'd be privileged to witness those changes - up close and personal. He was unexpectedly muscled. His pectorals were firm. His tummy taut and flat. He had no six-pak yet, but that single muscled mound of little boyhood was gone. I traced my fingers down from that little hollow at the base of his neck, down between his two tight, dime-sized reddish-brown spots centering his nipples, down across his diaphragm to his perfect inny belly button, to the top of his shorts. Shivers spread throughout his body sparked by my touch. I smiled. "Good?"
"Mmm-hmmm," he sighed. "It makes me feel tingly."
I lifted my hand and savored his skin once more - smooth and soft, glorious. It made me shudder. I rubbed his arms, I reached around and traced along his frame, feeling every dip and bump of his shoulders, then his shoulder blades, then each knob of his spine, flanked by firm muscles. Oh God, I was in heaven.
"Let's get rid of your shoes."
He pulled his legs up, and I untied his Nikes and dropped them one at a time over the side of the bed. I pulled his socks off, and then I felt his legs. And they, like his arms, were covered in soft, downy, blond hair. My fingers danced up his legs, reaching under his shorts as far as I could go without pushing hard.
"Dan," the boy whispered. His voice was shaking now. I smiled. With a virgin, either it's almost impossible to get them past their fear, or they're so hungry for sex that it takes little effort to arouse him. My boy was hungry.
"Yeah," I said.
"Can...um...we...ahh, maybe we should...you know...t...take off...my...um...the rest..." He looked up at me with longing eyes.
"Is it alright, Chip? Do you want me to?"
He swallowed hard and looked like a boy about to step into the unknown. "Yes," he whispered.
"Then, I'd love to." I smiled. He'd taken the next step in commitment. And why shouldn't he. I reminded myself that he was the one who'd made the plan in the first place. This was his fantasy.
"Let's get you up on your knees. Tentatively, he eased his grip of me, and I steadied him with my hands on his narrow waist. It seemed as though I could almost encircle his waist with my two hands. I reached down, and carefully, respectfully unbuttoned his button. I looked up. He was watching my every move, and panting like a dog, his taut tummy moving in and out, his chest heaving like a grownup's. He gently bit his lip. What was happening now mattered a whole lot to him. He was revealing himself to me, and he was scared - no doubt for all kinds of reasons.
I grasped the hasp of his zipper, and slowly pulled down. His shorts spread open, revealing surprisingly little of his briefs and nothing of what lay beneath them.
I reached up on either side of his shorts and tugged them. They easily slid down, bunching at his knees. His clean Spiderman underpants set off his body perfectly. I glanced up, and he looked up at me. "Oh God, Chip, you look sooo incredible."
Predictably, he blushed, proud yet shy and maybe even a little confused, but pleased to be the focus of such praise.
His briefs were tented out a couple of inches. His balls were just hinted at, though if he hadn't been erect, he probably would have shown more of his gonads. I swallowed hard. My lips were dry, and my heart raced.
He shifted now, lifting his left leg, and I knew he wanted to be free of his underpants, but perhaps not one hundred percent convinced or certain about how to proceed. "Tell you what," I said, deciding to take the lead and sliding up into a kneeling position, "Stand up for a second." He stood up and put his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. I was now looking up at the bulge in his briefs, just inches from my eyes. His rigid little cock was right in front of my face. I held onto his cotton-covered hips. He trembled in my grasp. He continued to gaze intently in my eyes, looking for affirmation. I hoped my smile would be all the affirmation he needed.
I slid my fingers up over the waistband of his underpants, and hooked my fingers down inside. I shook with anticipation. Slowly, I began to pull his underpants down. The waistband scraped along his skin. I carefully lifted the front of his briefs away from his boy cock, but when the elastic band passed by his little head, it lightly scraped the tip. The boy shuddered and his fingers dug into my shoulders, and he groaned.
Now, for the first time, I saw his beautiful boy treasures. I quickly dropped his underpants to his feet, but my eyes never left his three inches of boycock. He was neatly circumcised, not too tight, with a narrow straight scar around his cock a half inch below his glans.
I gently urged him to lie down on the bed. The white sheet set off his naked, pure body perfectly. I raised myself up and looked down at him. His body had a little twist, to it, making a coy kind of appearance. I just stared. He gazed up at me with an almost worried look. I could see him wondering what I was thinking. I was convinced he really was quite innocent about his beauty - and his radiating sexual energy. I wanted to assure him that he didn't need to be concerned. I straddled his legs, my knees about next to his.
"Ohhhh, Chip, you are so incredible. I can't believe you've invited me into your life. I'm so honored to be the one to show you about sex. I..." I couldn't resist. I leaned down and sucked him hard into my mouth. I felt him grab onto my shoulders. He squealed, and instantly stiffened, again digging his fingernails into my shoulder. I worried he might actually break the skin, but I realized I was the cause of his ferocious grip, and even in my pain, I had to smile. I hadn't planned to suck him off this first time, but his beauty overwhelmed me, and I had to taste him. He arched his back and threw his head back and moaned. "What...are...you...doing?"
I slipped my hands around a bit, so I held his silky-soft, firm, round bottom in my hands. My fingertips crept into his crack and settled. Everywhere our bodies fitted together a little fire was ignited. I lifted off and smiled. "It's just sucking...People call it cocksucking. You've heard of that. Or a blow job." He gave a look of guilty pleasure. Yes of course he HAD heard those terms. "Does it feel good?" I asked.
"Mmm-hmm," he squeaked, hardly able to speak anymore he was concentrating so hard.
I took him back into my mouth and introduced one more new sensation. I swirled my tongue over his smooth little glans, and he squealed again like a little boy on a carnival ride. I traced my tongue around the rim of his glans, and he shuddered violently. Now his hands were on my head, grabbing onto my hair. I knew I was giving him the ride of his life. I bent my head down, and sucked in his two balls. He moaned. They were marble-sized, and firm. I rolled them around, and savored their feel in my hungry mouth.
Chip was moaning constantly now as I slowly massaged the cheeks of his delicious butt and worked his genitals hard. I released his testicles and focused on his dick. He was gasping for breath and his body was alternating between tensing and releasing. "Oh God, Dan," he mumbled between gasps. He massaged my head, though without thought, I am sure. He just had to keep every part of his body in motion.
"Come up here, guy," I said, and he scrambled up to stand in front of me again. Again he grabbed onto my shoulders to steady himself.
Now I began that most basic of back and forth motions with my mouth. I encouraged him gently with my hands, moving his hips back and forth. And he began - by pure instinct, apparently - a jerky back and forth movement, thrusting his little boy tool as deep as he could. For my part, I reached down and gently fondled his balls pulled up tight in his little, hairless sac. I continued to suck him hard, providing as much stimulation with my tongue as possible. He cried out with each thrust, sounding as if each one would be his last. How could such an innocent be so suddenly consumed by pure, raw, sex? He was wild, humping my mouth, trying to gain that release he didn't even know was coming. I let one finger on my right hand burrow in to explore his crack. Heavenly warmth. And slowly, I centered in on his bud. When I touched it finally, it was like pushing the launch button.
"What's happening!" he breathed, the words catching in his throat.
I lifted off him for a moment and laid him down on the bed again. He was desperate to have whatever was going to happen, happen. His little tool, glistening with my saliva and pulsing to the beat of his heart, pointed up to his cute little button nose. "What's happening?" I repeated. "It's just that your orgasm's coming," I explained. "That's all." I went back down on him.
I felt his penis swell, and he stiffened impossibly, shuddering in a massive spasm. "Ahhhhghhhh!" he screamed. He clutched at my head as if he were going to be blasted away from me if he didn't hold on. Two...three...four times his small body desperately tried to expel the juice that wouldn't be present for two more years, but his body's response was no less violent than if it had been. Finally, he seemed to wilt and all the stiffness began to leave him, and I held him by his smooth ass. He collapsed, his body losing all its tension. I held my head still for a moment. His arms slipped down to my shoulders, then down my back. I continued to suck him for all I was worth. "Stop, stop..." he murmured. Some boys - especially ones whose orgasms are dry - can't take much stimulation after their release, and I slowed, then stopped, and just held him in my mouth, feeling him start to soften.
I picked him up as gently as I could. He couldn't have weighed more than 85 pounds. I slipped under him, and then let him ooze down my body, until his head nestled against mine, his legs folded underneath him. I eased him down on the bed, and stretched his long, slender legs out, and once more beheld his magnificent body, soft and unblemished. His heaving chest gradually eased, his breath coming at a more relaxed pace. He suddenly seemed older to me, closer to adulthood. He shifted now, opening his legs and bending his left knee so his left foot bumped up against his right knee. He stretched his right arm up and tucked it under his head. Still entranced, he breathed in a deep, long breath, and let it out, and a smile formed on his lips.
His flat tummy lifted and fell like gentle waves. His cock, glistening still from my saliva, drooped over his loosely hanging balls that stretched his smooth, pinkish sac down between his parted legs. Oh sweet heavenly perfection! What a vision.
I breathed in his sweet beauty. His arms, face, and lower legs, the color of light honey, his torso a bit lighter, and his secret region white with a hint of pink. I almost felt like crying for his sublime beauty made me feel so privileged. I sighed as deeply as he'd just sighed. I was rock hard, and I ached for release, but I would wait. I had to. It was something I wanted to share with my boy.
I stared at him for probably 20 minutes, not moving, not daring to disturb the air lest this vision, like wisps of clouds, drift beyond my reach. Finally, as gently as possible, I lay down beside him. In his restful state, he felt a presence, and he rolled toward me, curling and fitting himself to me, his head poking just under my chin and his cock pressing against my stomach just above my pants. His arms snaked around me, and I let my hands drift down his back, coming to rest on his soft, relaxed boy bottom. I caressed it, and held him tightly to me.