NOTICE: This story contains scenes of sexual activity between an adult man and a minor boy. These scenes are an important part of the plot and necessary for the story. While some may find it erotic, the story is intended to be a serious literary work. It is fiction, a fantasy and, at least for the time being, or until the Republicans retake the White House, thoughts and fantasies are not illegal in the United States, though I can't speak for Britain, Canada, or Australia. The author does not condone or encourage illegal activities between adult men and minor boys. If it is illegal for you to read such material in your jurisdiction, for any reason, do not do so. Do not access this story in the presence of a minor as defined by law in your jurisdiction. If you will be offended by this story, please read no further. This story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Eric the Red, and cannot be posted on any site other than the Nifty Archive without my permission.

I would appreciate your comments about the story. Please write to me at:

ericthered76 at myopera.com

Secrets and Dreams

by Eric the Red

Prologue

I discovered my penis the day my father took me to the art museum.

We had just walked into a gallery dedicated to the Pre-Raphaelites and as Daddy was studying a painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, I stood mesmerized by a bronze statue in the center of the room of a boy a little older than me. He might have been twelve or thirteen, with thick, long curls falling about his head and down his neck. He had laughing eyes and a beautiful smile and he was running naked. His arms and legs were slim, but clearly muscled. He seemed perfect and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

There was one other thing that fascinated me about him: his penis—or as I thought of it back then, his wiener. For one thing, he had one and I wasn’t expecting to see that on a statue of a boy. In fact, I had never seen another wiener before, not at the restroom in school, not Daddy’s in the bathroom at home, no one’s. My wiener was the only one I had ever seen and this one was enthralling. It was long. While mine was tiny and very rarely was ever anything but a little button snug under my tummy, this one was pointing outward and downward. I couldn’t tell if it was hard or just flopping around because he was running, but whatever, it was alluring to my fourth grade brain. Another thing that I found absorbing was that it was smooth and didn’t seem to have a cone at the end, as mine did. I wondered if it was because the sculptor deliberately left it off so it wouldn’t look quite so obscene or if the boy really didn’t have a cone at the end of his wiener. Maybe some boys didn’t have them. I didn’t know. I would have asked Daddy, but I was too embarrassed to bring up the subject.

I didn’t want Daddy to know how fascinated I was by “The Laughing Runner,” as the statue was called. Somehow, I knew that he wouldn’t consider it proper for me to be so interested in looking at a naked boy. However, I was able to sneak back into the Pre-Raphaelite gallery two more times before we left so I could gaze again on the perfect body and beautiful face—and the rampant wiener—of The Laughing Runner.

I couldn’t get the image of that boy out of my head. For the rest of the day and into that evening, I saw him before me with those incredible arms and legs, that incredible face and that wiener, that gloriously incredible wiener. My own wiener was hard for most of the day and evening and, when I was taking my bath that night, as it was poking upward out of the water and bubble bath, I touched it with my fingers, remembering how The Laughing Runner’s wiener looked, running my fingers around the cone, rubbing it up and down, exploring it, getting to know it better and discovering that touching it felt good. Soon, I realized that I was rubbing it, feeling it, fondling it, stroking it. It felt so good, so very good, and the more I rubbed it, the better it felt. More and more I rubbed, faster and faster, harder and harder, until I was afraid I was going to pee. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t care I that I was going to pee. I just wanted that feeling. And then...

Fireworks. Lighting. Earthquakes. Tornados. A thermonuclear detonation between my legs.

When it was over, I stared down at myself, wide-eyed and gasping for breath and pondering just what in the heck had happened and wondering if I could do it again. I could. And did. Three more times that night. Once in the tub and twice in my bed. And, a million times after that.

I had discovered my penis.

Chapter One

“How are you feeling today, Eric?”

I’m in Dr. Ingersoll’s office. He’s sitting in a big leather chair across a low coffee table from me. I’m sitting in an identical chair, but while Dr. Ingersoll is huge and easily fills up the chair, I feel dwarfed in mine. There are lots of bookcases in the office and they are full of large, leather-bound books. There are also diplomas and degrees hanging on the walls along with portraits of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. I know that’s who they are because Dr. Ingersoll told me in his accent. I’ve been coming to this office for over a month now and I still feel just as intimidated now as I did the first time I entered. I don’t think Dr. Ingersoll likes kids. I think he prefers to work with grown-ups. If he liked kids, I think his office would look different.

I shrug my shoulders in response to his question and mumble, “Fine.”

Dr. Ingersoll nods and asks, “Have you been masturbating as much as you were?”

I blush fiercely and turn my head as I mutter, “I don’t know.”

“Now, Eric, we agreed last week that we wouldn’t say ‘I don’t know’ when we really do know. Now, have you been masturbating as much as you were?”

I press my lips together in frustration and then reply angrily, “Yes.”

Dr. Ingersoll nods and raises an eyebrow before he remarks, “You seem a little irritated today, Eric. Would you like to talk about it?”

Still looking to my side, I reply crossly, “No.”

“Well, I understand that it’s difficult to discuss to unpleasant subjects, but it can help sometimes to talk about these things.”

Feeling a sudden flash of fury, I turn my head and declare, “How come every time my stepmom and I come here, we’re five minutes early and you’re always fifteen minutes late? And, then after thirty minutes you always say our hour is over. It’s only half-an-hour! You’re cheating! You don’t really care about me. You just sit there and ask a couple of questions and then you don’t tell me how to help myself. You don’t care. You just want your money. You don’t care if I kill myself or not. You don’t care if I get better. If you cared, you wouldn’t be late and you wouldn’t quit so soon.”

Then, suddenly feeling embarrassed, I blush and look away. I hate coming to Dr. Ingersoll’s office. I just want to be home, in my bedroom down in the basement, alone, playing with myself. At least, when I play myself I don’t feel angry or sad or depressed and afraid. I just feel good.

Dr. Ingersoll smiles and says, “Very good, Eric! Very good! I’m very proud of you for opening up like that! I think we’ve had a breakthrough! You expressed your feelings! Very good, Eric! Very good.”

I roll my eyes and reply, “Whatever. You didn’t say anything about what I said. Why are you always late?”

“Well,” he says a bit defensively, “I have to get ready for you. I have to read your file and my notes and make certain I’m ready to help you.”

I stare at him and I know he’s lying and he knows I know he’s lying and I know he doesn’t care because he doesn’t have to care. The hospital ordered me to come for a month. I don’t have a choice and he knows that. He’s just another lying grown-up. All grown-ups lie, even my Daddy lied and he was the best man that ever lived! I shake my head and look away.

For the rest of our “hour,” we talk about school and my Evil Stepmother and what I like to watch on TV and what kind of books I like to read and at fifteen minutes until four, just as he’s done for every other session, Dr. Ingersoll announces that our “hour” is up. I mutter “Whatever,” and leave through the side door, meeting my Hateful Stepmother in the hallway.

She looks at me with contempt and asks, “Well, are you going to try to kill yourself again?”

I don’t reply. I simply look at her bright red shoes and turn my nose up. She spins around and marches toward the elevator and pushes the down button impatiently several times. I slowly walk up behind her just as the doors open.

“I don’t know why I have to waste the time and the money with this stupidity,” the woman mutters as we board the elevator. “I should just hand you over to the state and let them deal with you. Hell, you don’t give a crap about me; why should I give a crap about you? They’ll probably put you in some state institution for the deranged, where you belong.”

I say nothing. My rage inside is growing and I know that if I say anything, I may explode and everything will be worse than it already is. I simply stand there and listen and let my mind wonder some place, any place, other than where I am.

0o0o0

It’s my first day back to school after my father’s funeral. It was a quiet day. No one had bothered me. Everyone had left me alone and I was surprised and grateful. No one had harassed me after school. I almost felt like a normal kid. Why did it take the death of my father before I could be treated normally?

It’s a warm day for early spring. The crocus and daffodils are already blooming as I walk along the sidewalk toward my home. It’s pretty and I wish I had a friend to play with outside. I turn the corner and I’m a block from home as I pass the ranch-style house with the wide lawn. There are several dogwoods scattered about the wide lawn and they will be blooming within a couple of weeks. I see Mr. Denton on his front porch. He’s a friendly man and used to come over and chat with Daddy a lot. He’s a few years older than Daddy was and he must be wealthy because he doesn’t go to work. He’s sitting in the shade of his porch drinking a small glass of something that looks like iced tea, but which I’m sure is something else. I wave at him with a cautious and reserved smile.

“Eric! My boy!” he cries effusively. “Come here, lad. Come here!”

I’m not eager to. What I really want is to get back to my bedroom in the basement and spend the next fifteen or twenty minutes rubbing my wiener. But, I can’t be rude, so I walk up stone path to his front porch. Yes, I can smell the scotch on his breath. Mr. Denton wraps his big arms around me and hugs me tightly before he kisses the top of my head.

“How are you holding up, my brave boy?”

“Fine,” I reply, a bit irritated by his lovey-dovey attitude, but liking the hugging.

“It’s such a shame. Your father was such a good man.”

I nod and try not to shed more tears. I’ve cried too much over the last few days and I almost feel cried out, though in some ways, I fear it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge again.

“Why don’t you come in and have a hot cocoa? Would you like that?”

Despite my desire to hide in my bedroom and play with myself, I also welcome the opportunity to avoid seeing my hateful stepmother and my two younger half-sisters. They aren’t my full sisters, only half-sisters and I feel the necessity to tell everyone that whenever I have to talk about them.

Mr. Denton takes me into his house, which is immaculate and expensively furnished. We walk through the front to the den in the back, which is open to the kitchen and the informal dining area. I take off my coat, which Mr. Denton says I can put on one of his chairs, and I remark, “You have a very nice home, Mr. Denton.”

“Scotty!” he cries out from the kitchen. “Please, my father was Mr. Denton. I’m Scotty!”

I giggle, probably the first time I have done so in almost a week, and reply, “All right, Scotty. You have a nice house.”

“Yes, I do, and I’m very proud of it! And, you, my special little friend, are always welcome here! Always! I want you to think of me as your special friend!”

I sit down on the soft and luxurious couch and Scotty and I discuss school and what I’m studying until he enters the den with a refilled glass of scotch in one hand and a mug of hot cocoa with whipped cream on top in the other. He sits down right next to me and hands me the mug. I don’t take a sip right away, but Scotty says, “I put a little something in it. One of my special ingredients! Let’s see if you can figure out what it is!”

He wraps his left arm around me and pulls me into him. I’ve never actually been close to Scotty. He’s a neighbor and a nice man and everyone around us likes him, but my acquaintance with him has never been exactly a hugging acquaintance. However, this feels nice, really nice, and I start to relax.

I venture a sip of my cocoa; it’s still hot, but I can taste a hint of something. I look up and guess. “Is it peppermint?” I ask.

“It is!” Scotty replies. “Actually, it’s peppermint schnapps!”

He leans his head close to mine and whispers, “Don’t tell your stepmother! It’ll be just our little secret!”

He winks at me and I giggle. I hate my stepmother and I welcome an ally in my war for survival with her. I sip some more of the cocoa and decide that I really like it. The peppermint taste is very strong and by the time I am half-way through my cocoa, I am feeling really relaxed and I am actually happy. I like cocoa and peppermint schnapps! And, I like cuddling with Scotty. He smells nice. His blond hair is nice. His pudgy body is like cuddling up to a giant plush toy.

“Would you like some more?” Scotty asks with wicked grin.

“Yes, please!” I reply eagerly, “but, maybe I should call Gloria to let her know I’ll be late.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Scotty replies as he heaves himself up from the couch. I’ll be happy to take care of her!”

I giggle at the tone of voice he used in referring to her. He grins at me as walks to the kitchen phone and dials the number. Propping the receiver between his cheek and shoulder, he prepares another cocoa and schnapps and...

“Gloria! Scott Denton here. Listen, dear, Eric’s here and I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t be worried. Yes, dear. Oh, I know, dear. Bless you for all you’ve been through. I’m sure it’s been an absolute nightmare! Well, ta-ta!”

I giggle again as Scotty rolls his eyes and mutters, “What your blessed father saw in her I will never know!”

“I think Daddy wondered the same thing before...” I stop, realizing I’m am making a joke about my father five days after he died.

Scotty is returning with my cocoa and stops.

“Dear boy, your father had a sense of humor, a very dry, but very good sense of humor. I think he’s up there right now smiling that special smile he had whenever he made a pun or a wry comment. Be grateful for him.”

I nod with moist eyes and Scotty sits down beside me and I take the mug of cocoa.

“This stuff is really good,” I announce after several more gulps. “They should bottle it!”

Scotty wiggles his eyebrow suggestively as his left arms squeezes me. His left hand has been resting on my hip for some time and now it begins to slide back and forth over my hip and onto my left thigh. It feels good and I feel myself suddenly starting to get hard.

Ordinarily, I would feel afraid of Scotty noticing that I was hard, but the schnapps in the cocoa has relaxed me and I’ve let my guard down. I’m not really worried about Scotty noticing it. In fact, a part of me, the nasty part of me, actually wouldn’t be too disappointed if he did notice! I scoot slightly forward and wriggle to make myself more comfortable as I snuggle closer to Scotty.

“Do you feel good, my Little Prince?” Scotty asks. “Do you like cuddling with Scotty?”

I nod and smile as I lean my head against Scotty’s soft chest. He’s wearing a soft, blue pullover sweater and it feels so nice under my face.

While his left hand is caressing my hip and thigh, his right hand reaches over across him and begins to caress my right thigh. It feels wonderful to me and I want his hands to reach further, to rub the insides of my thighs, even to rub the front of my pants, where my hardness is now throbbing like mad! Will he? His hands have inched closer and closer and I’m beginning to wonder what I can do to let him know that it’s okay if he wants to.

I scoot a little further down and open my legs a little and, instantly, I am rewarded for my efforts! Both hands slide down to the inside of my thighs. I moan softly and Scotty whispers, “Is this nice, Little Prince? Do you like this, my sweet Eric?”

I nod and whisper in reply, “Yes. I love it.”

Almost immediately, his right hand inches upward and he’s caressing the area between my wiener and balls and my butt. I can’t help but moan as I open my legs further and gently thrust my hips up. I want Scotty to touch me there, where no one has touched me before. I need it.

My wish come true. A moment later, the man’s right hand slides up over the rigidness in my pants and I moan loudly as delicious, wonderful feelings flood over my body from my wiener.

“Oh, my,” Scotty whispers, “you’re so hard! So hard.”

I moan loudly and thrust up against his hand. Scotty rewards me by rubbing hard and squeezing my wiener as he slides his hand back and forth over my throbbing stiffness.

“I’m wondering,” Scotty softly says, “if maybe these pants should come off? What do you think, Eric? Should we take your pants off?”

I open my eyes and look up at Scotty with a wicked grin as I whisper, “Yes.”

He smiles at me and begins to unfasten my belt as I slip my loafers off. When he has unfastened the belt, he unsnaps my pants and pulls the zipper down. I’m trembling all over my body now from excitement. I can’t believe this is happening! No one has ever done anything like this with me and nothing has turned me on so intensely since I first discovered rubbing my wiener a few months ago. I watch with breathless anticipation as he pulls my pants open. I can see the ridge of my stiff wiener through the fabric of my white briefs. It’s pulsing and throbbing madly.

“Lift up,” Scotty whispers as he hooks his thumbs inside the elastic band of my underpants and as I push upward, he pulls both my underwear and my pants down my hips and thighs. As I lower my now naked butt to the couch, my wiener is pointing tautly upward. My eyes are locked on it as Scotty pulls my pants down my legs. I pull my feet up and through my pants and now I am sitting on the couch in only my socks and my shirt.

“You know what?” Scotty asks with a wicked grin.

“What?” I ask with my own grin.

“I think you should get completely naked! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah,” I reply nastily as I grab my shirt. I pull it up and over my head as Scotty reaches down and pulls my socks off. I toss my shirt on the floor and I am now sitting next to Scotty completely naked!

I have never felt so excited, so dirty, so alive in all my life. I grin with excitement and Scotty nods as he says, “I knew you were a naughty boy! I just knew it. I love naughty boys.”

I don’t know what motivates me to say it, but I reply in the same voice, “And I like naughty men!”

Scotty giggles as his eyes roam freely over my naked body. I lie back in as provocative a pose as I can imagine and look up at him flirtatiously. He grins and rubs his hands all over me, feeling my face and neck, my shoulders and chest, touching my titties, which causes me to gasp and thrust my chest upward, and down to my tummy, my hips, and my thighs. He touches every part of my body except my tiny balls and my wiener.

He is caressing my hips and thighs again, though this time directly, as he gazes at my throbbing wiener.

“You’re cock is so beautiful, Eric, so fucking beautiful.”

Scotty used the f-word, the worst word in the world! I smile with a thrill and whisper, “Thank you.”

I can’t believe that I’m naked with this man. I can’t believe that he thinks I’m beautiful. No one has ever said that to me. Oh, I’ve heard women—not my Hateful Stepmother, but other women—gush that I’m cute, but they say stuff like that to all boys. This, however, is different. Scotty really means it! He thinks I’m beautiful.

He leans over and I realize he’s going to kiss me! Scotty’s going to kiss me! A man is going to kiss me!

I shiver and close my eyes as his soft, full lips approach and then lightly touch mine. I shudder and his lips press down. Over and over, he kisses my lips, my cheeks, my nose as his hands continue to explore my body. I’ve never felt so wicked and happy in my life.

I jump as I feel a finger touch the sensitive, pink ring of skin around my wiener beneath the hard, purple cone at the end. His finger traces circles around it, making my wiener jump as his lips press down on mine.

Then they open and his tongue pushes forward against my lips. Does Scotty want to push his tongue into my mouth? Does he really want to do that? How gross! How disgusting! How wonderful!

I part my lips and Scotty pushes his tongue into my mouth. I can’t believe this is happening! His tongue feels like a separate living being, moving across my small tongue and over my teeth and back again. Meanwhile, Scotty now is rubbing several fingers over my hard, throbbing wiener, sliding up and down the shaft, over the smooth, tight sack over my tiny balls, and back up to the sensitive cone at the end of my wiener. It’s absolutely wonderful.

I’m squirming now and I feel as if I’m going to explode. I know I’m about to make The Big Feeling, but I have no control over it. That makes it even better, the fact that I’m at the mercy of this man who is kissing me and feeling me all over my body and driving me crazy with his mouth and his touch.

Suddenly, he wraps his hand around my hard wiener and squeezes as he pumps up and down. I stiffen all over and I feel as if my whole body is about to shoot out of my wiener! I scream into Scotty’s mouth and The Big Feeling, the biggest Big Feeling I have ever had, explodes through my body as I squirm and twist and buck my hips.

It stops almost as quickly as it started, but Scotty continues to kiss me. His left hand is now playing with my left nipple and sending the most delicious feelings though me. I have never touched my nipples in this way before and it’s delightful, exciting, incredible. His right hand has released my wiener and is exploring all around there, sliding up my abdomen and down the inside of my thighs and over my wiener and back again. I’m squirming and moaning like crazy as Scotty continues to explore my mouth with his tongue. His right hand returns to my wiener and begins to slowly fondle it, not exactly pumping on it, but definitely making the feelings return again. I am still as hard as I was before and I don’t know if I can stand it, it feels so good. Scotty is taking his time, but he is definitely making me feel good.

As his hand pumps up and down on my wiener, his fingers are also exploring my balls and the sensitive ridge that runs between my balls and my butt. I feel a new sensation, a need, an urge, a hunger down inside my butt, deep inside my butt. I want something, I want Scotty to do something down there, but I’m not sure what it is I want him to do. All I know is that my hips are squirming around and I can’t help it. I’m not in control of my hips anymore. Scotty seems to make my hips work up and down and all around.

And, then, he’s pumping again, slowly up and down. I need more. I need him to go faster. My wiener is so hard, so very hard, and his hand, his soft, smooth hand feels so good, so very, very good and I need him to go faster and squeeze tighter and make me make The Big Feeling again! I need it! I need it badly!

Scotty seems to know that I am getting close to making The Big Feeling again and he slows down. I cry out in frustration and I want to beg him to do it faster, faster, but his mouth is over mine, his soft lips sealed over mine as his tongue rampages about my mouth, making me feel like I have no control over what is happening to me. Ordinarily I would hate that, but I love it! I love that Scotty is in control! I love that I can’t make him do anything other than what he wants to do!

My wiener is getting harder and the feelings in it are so good, so intense that it feels like I’m making The Big Feeling, but I’m not, unless I’m just making one long Big Feeling that just won’t quit! I’m screaming again into Scotty mouth and quaking and shuddering and twisting around like I’m crazy. I feel as if I’m having a conniption fit!

And, then it gets even better and then...

I’m gasping for breath. I’m naked on Scotty’s couch. He’s sitting beside me, gently caressing my face and running his fingers through my hair as he makes little cooing sounds.

I take a big breath and Scotty grins as he asks, “Did that feel good?”

“Oh, yeah,” I reply in dazed confusion. “It was so good. So good.”

“Well, perhaps you might like to come over after school again and maybe have a little fun with your old toad of an Uncle Scotty.”

I smile and whisper, “Yes, I’d like that.”

He nods and softly says, “It’s getting late and I think your stepmother might start wondering about you. Perhaps, you should get dressed now.”

I nod and slowly dress myself. Scotty gives me another soft kiss on the lips as he walks me to the front door and then, I’m back out in the cool, early spring afternoon as I walk home.

Only after I return to my bedroom down on the basement of the house and after I have looked at the framed picture on my nightstand of my father do I start to realize what I have done and the enormity of the sin, the evil, the pure, unadulterated wickedness of what I have done sets in...and I am horrified.

Ever since I learned how to rub my wiener and make myself feel good, I’ve thought I was a wicked boy, but never have I felt it so acutely. I am terrible, sick, disgusting. How could I do something so sordid and horrible, so terribly disgusting and vile just days after my Daddy has died? He must have been in Heaven looking down upon me with such pain, such disappointment, such horror!

I say nothing during dinner and Evil Stepmother notices how quiet I am. She asks if I feel all right and I just shrug and nod, but as soon as I can, I excuse myself from the dinner table and escape back to my room, lying on my bed in a virtual flood of self-reproach and remorse. I swear to God and my father that I will never, ever do anything like that again.

Yet, I know, underneath all my earnest prayers and promises, that I will.

0o0o0

We emerge from the elevator and walk across the lobby of the Doctors Building. A handsome man with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes passes us and his eyes meet mine. I already have a boner from the memories I relived in the elevator, but I feel my dick throb like mad in my shorts as the man walks by. I look back as my stepmother and I pass through the door and out of the building and his eyes meet mine again as he enters the elevator. And, then he is gone.

I’ll never see him again, unless he comes into the building again next week at the same time. Will he? Will we meet? How would I speak to him? What could I possibly say with my stepmother right there? I couldn’t. It would be hopeless.

He’s not the first handsome man I have seen, whose eyes have met mine, whom I want to hold me and love me and make me feel safe and loved and pretty. I see beautiful men all the time and never can I meet them.

I’m just a hopeless, perverted loser and I hate myself. Someday, I might meet such a man, a man who would love me, but I know it’s unlikely. Why would a man want me? I’m just a loser, a freak kid with a dirty mind who everyone knows is a pervert who tried to kill himself.

Maybe I should. Yeah, Maybe I should. Except this time, I’d know how to do it right! I won’t make the same mistake as last time. I won’t eat my stepmother’s sleeping pills and then pass out in the bathroom. Next time, I’ll do it right. Yeah. Next time... next time... next time...

To be continued.....

Please write to me at ericthered76 at myopera.com

Thank you for reading my story!