Date: Sun, 15 Feb 1998 22:29:02 -0000 From: Ken Claybourne Subject: A Shocking Little Boy Usual stuff. You shouldn't be reading this if you are under age. And please, Please, PLEASE don't do this at home. A Shocking Little Boy A fiction by Casey, for Norman Derek and I had been friends since childhood, and we remained close friends after he married. I stayed single. I had friends, some intimate friends, of both sexes, but had not met anyone with whom I felt able to form a lasting relationship. In a sense, none of them were Derek. Fortunately I got on very well with Margaret, Derek's wife. She never seemed to resent the times he and I would go off for the day, just as we had done when we were schoolboys together. When their first child Robert came along, I was an obvious choice as babysitter, a job I was happy to do for them. I watched Bobby's growing up with as much pleasure as if he had been my own child; and he took me totally for granted, as young children will. By the time he was two, and toddling happily, he would come and climb into my bed on those mornings when I had stayed overnight; a common enough occurrence, as Derek and Margaret did enjoy a good night out, and were deep in post-party slumber when he woke up. I would give him a cuddle, and entertain him until his parents got up. A favourite game of his was to burrow down under the blankets and make a little `den` formed by my raised knees. He was always naked, having disposed of his wet nightclothes on the way to see me. As I had decided, having got wet pyjamas a couple of times, to sleep in the same state, the not unpleasant odour of child urine was easily showered off. Then along came number two - Victoria. Derek and Margaret went out less often now, and only rarely stayed very late. I stayed the night now and then, at weekends; but as they were usually up early, the visits from damp Bobby stopped. And in any case, his bladder control was now fairly reliable. He still liked to run about the house in the `altogether`, a thing that his parents approved, thinking it the easiest way to let their children become aware of the essential differences between boy and girl. The children grew, as children will. Bobby started the long crawl of education, and three years later; Vicky joined him at the little village school. Now friends started to enter his world, and we heard what Jimmy had said, what Charlie had done, where Don and his sister had been for the weekend. Another name came into his chatter, and soon began to dominate. `Ahmed this`. `Ahmed that`. `Ahmed three bags full`. Ahmed was the eleven-year-old son of the new proprietor of the village Newsagent and Tobacconist's shop. Also the sweet shop! A cynic might say that Bobby's friendship with Ahmed was not uninfluenced by the sweets that Ahmed's kind father always gave Bobby when he went there to play. Shame on them! The two did seem to be really close friends. Though Ahmed was the older by a couple of years, they were similar in build and height - and a total contrast in colour. Black hair and fair, Brown skin and pink, Brown eyes and blue. One evening, while I was at home, I got a call from Derek. "David, could you manage next Saturday?" "Of course, Derek." "We'll be very late, so stay the night, and then have Sunday lunch with us. Oh, and can we book you again for a fortnight later? Same thing." "What's this then, old friend. Twice in a month!" "Coincidence. This week it's a works do. The later one is for our anniversary." "I suppose that means a present, you scrounging sod. Yes, of course I'll do both for you." "Thanks, as always, David." So the following Saturday I went across in the afternoon, and played with Vicky for a while. Bobby was out somewhere with Ahmed. At teatime they both came rushing in. "Mum, can I go to Ahmed's for tea?" "No, Bobby. You know we're going out soon, and I want you in. Uncle David hasn't time to go searching the village for you." "OK, mum. Then can Ahmed have tea with us?" "You never give up, do you?" she laughed. "Oh, OK. Ahmed, you'd better ring your mum and tell her. We must be off by six, Derek, so we'll leave David to cope with this lot while we get ready." So Ahmed stayed for tea, with firm instructions to be home by seven. A little charmer, he was, and he was almost as friendly with Vicky and me as he so obviously was with Bobby. The evening was a pleasure. At ten to seven I told him he must leave. The night was dark, so I walked with him the fifty yards or so to the street corner, and watched as he ran home. He turned and gave me a wave as he went in. I went back in, and organised the kids' night routine, a thing I had done so often. The bath (still both together, splashing happily); the towelling and obligatory tickles; the story. Then the goodnight hug from nine year old Bobby, the sloppy kiss from five year old Vicky. The usual stuff. By nine all was quiet. I got out a couple of beers, and watched a film on the video. By eleven I was in bed. I knew that Derek and Margaret would not be in before two in the morning. I was woken up at seven the next morning. A naked Bobby climbing into my bed. Now Bobby had not wet his bed for many years. And I had put him to bed in his pyjamas. "Where are your pyjamas, Bobby?" "Where are yours, Uncle David?" "You know I never wear them, Bobby. You started it!" He was cuddled up against me now, as he used to be when he was tiny. "What do you mean, Uncle?" "You used to come in to see me all damp, so I started to sleep naked to avoid getting wet. Then I found I liked it, and I've slept like that ever since. What's your excuse?" "I like it as well. I took my pyjamas off as soon as you went downstairs last night. I always sleep like that now. Like you. Can I play tents?" So he remembered the old game! I wondered what had brought the idea back into his mind after all this time. "OK, Bobby. Down you go!" He wriggled down the bed, and I put my knees up in the old way. He went down to the bottom of the bed, and turned and looked up at me. I had my usual morning half-erection. I didn't worry: Bobby must have seen me naked dozens of times, and his parents had told me of their policy of allowing the children to see them in their natural condition. Then I felt his hand on my cock. "Uncle David, your Willy is just like Ahmed's: all shiny at the end. Why?" My `Willy` was also growing up quickly! `Play it cool, David`, I thought. `Just childish curiosity`. "The skin at the end was too tight when I was little, and the doctor cut it off." "Did it hurt?" "I don't remember." "No. Ahmed says he doesn't remember either. It looks nice, though. It's very big, isn't it?" "Yes, Bobby. That happens to men and boys sometimes. Mine usually gets like that in the mornings." "Mine does as well, Uncle David. Look!" I looked. His little cock was sticking out straight from his hairless body - all two inches of it! I couldn't decide whether he was doing what he was doing to me deliberately or not. But he was certainly doing it! His little hands were wandering up and down my erection. Then he moved up, and lay on top of it. "I'm just giving your big Willy a hug. Is that nice?" Then the little devil started to move his little hips on me, and I knew that there would be an explosion of cum any moment now. "Yes, very nice, Bobby. But I must have a pee." I leapt out of bed, and went for my dressing gown. His eyes never left my jutting erection. I dashed for the toilet, and a long piss gradually tamed the monster. I wasn't prepared to risk getting back into bed: I had been far too turned on by his sexy little body. So I went down to the kitchen and made myself coffee. Bobby joined me, and I made him some orange, and sat and chatted to him about this and that. Well, not about that! His parents came down stairs, and soon afterwards little Vicky. We had breakfast, and a lazy morning with the Sunday papers. At twelve, when the village pub opened its doors, I took Derek across for our pre-lunch drink. I got the first round, and took them to a quiet corner. I told Derek about what had happened. "The trouble is, Derek, he really turned me on, and I had a job to avoid disgracing myself. You're the only person in the world I could admit that to." Derek was silent for a long minute. Then he spoke, not looking at me. "It started about three months ago, David, one Saturday morning. Margaret had got up early to go across to see her sister, and she took Vicky with her. I was treating myself to a lay in, and Bobby came in to see me, dressed in nothing, as usual. He climbed into bed with me and started exploring. I was half-asleep, and didn't twig what he was up to until I found that he was playing with my cock. I'm afraid I didn't have your control over my feelings. I let him carry on until it was too late, and I spurted cum all over the place. He seemed to take it for granted, almost as if that was what he expected." "He must have got the idea from somewhere, Derek. But where?" "I can only think young Ahmed. But he's only eleven. Surely he can't produce yet?" "Oh, I don't know. It's possible. I've seen Asian kids with moustaches at twelve. Maybe the boys have been doing some exploring of each other, and Ahmed has shown Bobby what cocks are really for. After all, you weren't much older when you started having that sort of fun with me." "As I remember it, Derek, it was you who started it first!" "Was not!" "Was!" We burst into laughter. "What did you do about it, Derek?" "Nothing. I told him that it mustn't happen again, of course. But it did. He knows it is `forbidden fruit`, because he's always careful to choose times when Margaret is out of the way. I found myself wondering if the same thing happens in other households. Ahmed's, for example. I suppose Bobby came to you this morning thinking you were worth a try. Ahmed was here yesterday evening. Did anything happen then?" "Nothing I noticed. A bit of whispering and giggling, but kids are like that. You don't think Ahmed put him up to it?" "I don't know what to think." "I know what I think, Derek. I think it's your round. Just as well. I've got a good eight incher trying to get out of my pants!" Derek got the drinks, and we sat considering the situation. "What do I do if it happens again, Derek? I mean, I'm here again in two weeks. I think you'd better have words with him before then." "What exactly do you expect me to say, David? I'm too far in now. This thing between Bobby and me happened, and will keep happening. He knows not to talk about it: he'd have said something by now if he were going to. And I never approach him, he always comes to me." "I expect you to say that Uncle David would welcome another morning visit. Uncle David wouldn't say no to a visit from Ahmed, either. Nor would you, I suspect." Derek grinned. "No, I wouldn't. I was thinking of taking the two of them for a walk across the fields sometime. I don't suppose you'd care to join us?" We finished our drinks, and went back to the house. Margaret said that dinner would be a few minutes yet. Derek took me down the garden to the little shed where he kept the mower and tools. "I've something I'd like you to see, David." We went in, and he knelt down in front of me. "I'm sure you won't mind this, for old times' sake." He got my cock out, and gave me a good sucking. I got there in no time. "And now you, old friend. You must need relief too!" I returned the compliment, and he was as quick to climax as I had been. Just as well. Bobby came down the garden to tell us that dinner was ready. We hastily tidied ourselves and walked back up the garden. Two weeks later I was at the house again. Things followed their usual routine. As I tucked the kids up I gave Bobby a big hug, and whispered "See you in the morning?" He nodded happily. When he arrived next morning, there were no preliminaries. He dived down the bed head first, and had my cock in his naughty hands. I played with his for a moment or two, and then said "Oh look! I've found a little lollipop!" and took his little stiff cock into my mouth. He fell in with the game at once. "And I've found a BIG one, Uncle David." He took my glistening bulb into his little mouth, and sucked like an expert. Either Derek or Ahmed had been giving him lessons! I took his cock and tiny ball bag in my mouth, and did my best for him. I pressed my finger against his little hole. Not inside, not yet. I carried on sucking at him, and now let my finger go in just a little way. He writhed with pleasure, and started to quiver. I was giving him an orgasm. Non-productive, of course, but none the worse for that. My culmination was close now, so I told him to take his mouth away. He was just in time. My spunk shot out onto his chest, and some of it landed on his lips. He licked it off. "Uncle David, that was lovely. You gave me the special feeling. You had it as well, didn't you? Daddy told me that you get it when the white stuff comes out. He says it's OK if I taste it. Once he did a bit right in my mouth, like Ahmed does. It was fun! I liked your finger in my bottom hole. I'll ask Daddy to do that next time. Daddy says I can do this with you and him; and Ahmed, of course, but nobody else until I'm bigger, and it's our big secret. I hope you'll come again soon, Uncle David." `With you, Bobby, I could probably `come` again in half an hour` I thought. He came back up the bed, and gave me a big kiss. "Yes, Bobby. Our very special secret: and next time, I'll give you a bit more finger!" And the time after that?