Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2011 20:46:37 -0800 (PST) From: Neil Entib Subject: Spunk Mountain: Happiest Place on Earth Water swishes softly just behind where I sit. Innumerable pairs of feet plod the asphalt in front of me. I reach into the paper bag in my hand and withdraw it quickly. Those fuckers are hot. And it's been a good five minutes. I set the bag between my legs and rip it along one side to let my beignets air out a bit. I make a point to stop by the Jazz Kitchen every time I visit Disneyland because their beignets are to die for. Ever since The Princess and the Frog came out, I've referred to them as "man-catchin' beignets." Though, truthfully, I'd rather be catching boys. So I sit at the fountain somewhere between the entrance to Downtown Disney and the entrance to the parks, in my baggy shorts and nothing else underneath. I find it much more comfortable in case I find an especially cute one who just makes my cock sing. Not that I'd ever have the balls (or the stupidity) to approach anyone, of course. I'm all about the watching. But if some cutie wants to strike up a conversation, I won't shy away. A family of four walks by: the boy a thin thing about nine, with a sister closer to five. She's got her arms wrapped around a Build-A-Bear, something that probably cost her weary-looking father over forty dollars. The son, in shorts and a T-shirt like most, walks in step with the father obediently and silently. Everyone looks tuckered out, and rightfully so: they're walking away from the parks. Another family passes me, headed in the opposite direction. Two boys, probably eleven and fourteen. Brown hair, medium length, nice smooth skin. Immediately my mind picks them up and puts them in a bed, the big brother bent over his sibling, jerking what would probably be a stone-hard two-incher while he bunny-humps a few squirts of sweet fluid up the little boy's backside... There goes my erection, right down my shorts-leg. A quick adjustment moves it behind my fly, hiding its shape from anyone attentive enough to give a random man more than a passing glance between his legs. Anyone who's doing that probably has their own agenda anyway. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been cruised at Disney. There was that one time when an innocent glance (not by me) in a restroom led to some groping in the Haunted Mansion, and later to some nice slow doggystyle in his hotel room on property. And the father whose frantic posting on Craigslist led me to believe he was horny while the family was away at the park. Little did I know, he was on such a tight schedule that we were to end up on the floor between one bed and the wall while his young son slept soundly in the opposite bed. I'd had specific instructions to roll under the bed if told, and to wait until the coast was clear. I still wonder if he was more terrified or turned on when he uttered "Oh fuck, he's waking up!" while coming violently inside me. Their short heart-to-heart on "why Daddy's thing is hard" was nothing short of adorable. I could have added some hands-on experience, but I was under orders...and under that bed, leaking cum out my ass. I might have to rub one out before I even get into the parks. Reaching into the bag again, my fingers alight on one of the beignets, just cooled off enough so I can eat them without burning my tongue. The powdered sugar sticks to my lips and I lick it off while cleaning my fingers. I eat the rest slowly, watching the ever-changing crowd. From my right, I can still hear the New Orleans-style jazz ensemble playing at the restaurant, while to my left come the syncopated sounds of Taiko drums. Above me, somewhere, soft Disney music emanates from hidden speakers, ever-present but not intrusive. A cast member walks up to me with something that looks like an ancient version of an iPad around her neck. "Can I ask you some questions, sir?" My heart leaps up into my throat, but I manage, "Sure thing." She proceeds to ask me a couple questions about my visit to the park, which I answer truthfully, except for my reason for coming today. I don't think she has a "boy-watching" box to check on her device. After asking my email-I offer a fake one-she trots away to a young couple on the other side of a cobblestone path. I decide it's time to enter the park. It's coming down dark, and the World of Color show is in about two hours. I don't want to be late, and I absolutely don't want to look over people's heads. I take my time, enjoying the ambiance and the occasional eye candy. I'm not very typical when it comes to what I like in a boy. You read stories on the Internet about the preteen with the body of a Greek god and a six-inch dick who just happens to be big for his age. Or the skinny-as-a-rail teen with low hangers. Me, I like my boys real, thank you very much: ten through thirteen, either naturally lean or with the build of the sport they're in. But mostly I like the little chubbies. Boys with some meat, and fat, on their bones. I can appreciate a little tummy, and a nice soft butt to caress. And if the dick's only two or three inches, it can still climax so who cares? Though I prefer the plumbing to work; nothing like a juicy reward at the end of a good blowjob. I see relatively few of these chubbies compared to the total number of kids on my way into the park. Kind of a pity, but it's almost good that most of the kids are in good shape. Unlike most of the parents, who seem to have had enough Disney food to last them a lifetime. After giving my pass to the turnstile operator, I enter Disneyland proper and stroll along Main Street, lit up like a stationary parade. Not a piece of trash in sight. Outside the Gibson Girl ice cream parlor I see a boy who looks a lot like how I used to: close-cropped brown hair, average build until you get to his chest, where you can see the curve of his belly just enough to push out his shirt. Most people wouldn't even notice it, but if he were topless it would jiggle. Very hot. It reminds me of my visits to Disney as a kid. I have one strong memory that stands out above the rest, and I'm not even sure if it's accurate or if my brain is filling in the gaps with naughty bits. Back when Robin Hood still roamed the park, and he was my favorite. For some reason, I got a funny feeling when I saw him, smiling and cavorting around with parkgoers. I was eight at the time, all innocent. My parents and I were in the Sky Buckets, back when they used to have them, and I saw the fox right below us, hugging kids and posing for pictures. I begged my mother to let me go to him, and she relented; as soon as my feet touched the ground, I was off like a shot. I remember jumping up and down with my arms outstretched, waiting for him to pick me up and then there his paws were: one on my back and one on my rear. Robin hefted me, and his one paw slid between my legs and cupped my crotch between his massive fuzzy fingers. No one thought anything of it back in the day, when fun was fun and not a precursor to molestation. Dad held up his Polaroid camera to snap a picture of the two of us, and I distinctly remember-as he held me close, and we smiled-his middle finger making small circles around the head of my little dick. It made me hard, and tingly inside, and I didn't know what it was but I knew I loved Robin even more. If I had been alone with him, to this day I wonder what we would have done. Speaking of alone...I notice a whoosh of air off to my right and look just in time to see a boy run past, a flash of yellow and blue. Then he's gone, leaving me with the ghost of his outline. Kind of curvy, just my type. Oh, well. As I pass the Astro-Orbiter on my way into Tomorrowland, I dig in my pocket. Feeling around spare change and a few receipts, I feel the slightly stiffer paper of a FastPass and pull it out. Just what I thought: I'm due at Space Mountain in about ten minutes if I want to make it at all. It might be the last thing I get to do before I have to queue up for the light show. When I get to the line, I find that it's not long enough to separate the FastPass people from the regular people, but long enough to be slightly annoying. So, after scanning for cuties with no luck, I do like most others and pull out my phone. Angry Birds are calling my attention. A few successful levels in, I hear a woman gasping behind me. "Are they really trying to cut?" she asks. I look up to see a group of teenagers ducking under various chains and beelining toward the front of the line. It sure looks like they're trying to cut. People around me shake their heads and murmur disapproval, but it quickly turns into chuckles when all of us watching from the line see the kids get caught between a wall and a planter, effectively cutting off their success. "Serves you right," I mumble. "Dumbasses," agrees a high-pitched voice behind me. I turn around. Yellow shirt, jean shorts. "I know you," I say, and he looks up at me with curious surprise. What a cute kid! I can see now that his shirt has an Iron Man logo on the front with some kind of stylized explosion. He actually looks good in yellow, a color few can pull off well. He's got medium-length brown hair framing a round face. Not round in a chubby way, though his tummy is to die for, just round in a kid way. Green eyes, big green eyes, and a few freckles that I can make out in the dying light. I qualify my statement before he starts to think I'm weird. "I meant I recognized your shirt. You ran in front of me a little while ago back in Downtown Disney." He looks down a bit, almost like he's blushing, but then again it's unusual for a random grown-up to say he noticed your shirt out of a crowd. "It's just a shirt," he says, kind of quiet. "You were the only yellow one there," I reply. "It stands out." He shrugs: If you say so. For the first time I notice he's alone. He can't be more than twelve, but he looks and acts a bit more mature than that. Compared with other teens and tweens I've seen, he's a saint. "I guess. It's okay." I imagine him saying the same thing after I compliment him on what a nice dick he has, and there goes my boner again. From my vantage point, I can't see his ass, but by the curve of his shirt I'm guessing he's got a good bit of padding back there as well. At least I can think about it. He doesn't seem to mind chatting up an old guy, which speaks to his character and maturity. I decide to engage him further; it's better than shuffling silently around in the line for fifteen minutes. "Where were you running? You looked like you had a purpose." He flushes a little, making his freckles stand out even more. "Well, I...was gonna go check out Captain Eo, but I peeked in and decided it wasn't my thing." "It's horrible, isn't it?" "Yeah!" he laughs. "Really awful! I didn't even stay for more than a minute. I can't believe people used to think that was cool!" "I used to think it was cool," I say in my most serious voice possible. He withers. "Oh. Sorry." "I said 'used to.' I think it's awful now too, though Michael Jackson's music is still classic." "Yeah, I think so too." The easy smile is back, though my erection has faded. His charms mitigate what would normally be a hot fantasy. "I wish he hadn't died," he adds. "A lot of us do," I reply somberly. I find it intriguing to see such a young kid so serious. He looks pretty smart, like that. I decide to break the tension before it gets sad. "Well, I hardly think your name is Cute Kid in the Space Mountain Line, so fess up." There's that blush again. He can take a harmless compliment without being wary, but I don't want to underestimate him by any means. So far, I think we're having fun. "Ty," he says. "Frank," I say, though it's not my real name. It never is, just because I'm careful like that. Though here, in the land of a thousand cameras, there is very little room for error when dealing with kids who aren't your own. Being a good Samaritan and helping a boy find the bathroom doesn't look as innocent as it used to. Anyone looking at the images, though, only sees a man and a boy talking. If that becomes illegal in this country, I'm moving out. "Nice to meetcha," Ty replies, offering his hand. His skin is smooth and cool as I shake it, and besides a small tingle down low, there's nothing else. Yet. As we make our way to the front of the line, we converse like old friends. It impresses me to no end how easily he talks with me, how he can just open up to someone like that. I suspect that even though he's at Disneyland, things aren't all Leave It to Beaver at home. He seems happy enough to be at the park anyway, but I get the feeling I've just made his day by striking up a conversation. I learn that his dad works for a software firm out of San Jose and is in Irvine for a conference of some sort. Ty was ahead in his classes (no surprise there) so he was able to beg off school for a week, and Mom tagged along because she could and, according to Ty, "She can have her own fun here too." I have a feeling she's sitting somewhere with a glass in her hand. I make up some story about being self-employed and still being a kid at heart, so I like to come ride the rides every once in a while. Ty's eyes widen when I pull out my season pass, the green in them very flattering to his hair and his skin tone. "You really like coming here so much?" "Yeah, why not?" I feign. "It's not just the rides. I've been coming here since I was a kid. I've watched it change. Mostly for the better. And most of the stuff is still fun to go on. Like this, for instance. And Splash Mountain." "You wanna go there next?" Ty asks. I can't help but be surprised at his eagerness, and though I hide my own I still raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "You wanna hang out with a random old fart?" "I got nothin' else to do, and it's better than riding alone. You're only like thirty-five, right?" "Try forty-three." "Oh," he says. "Who cares?" "Exactly," I say, and we finally enter the last stages of the line. The perverted side of my brain starts undressing him as we inch forward, and I keep myself slightly behind him so I can imagine doing naughty things to that round rump. But then he'll say something or crack wise and I'll laugh, and my boner will dissipate. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm talking to one hell of a sexy kid. Ty is a pretty open and honest kid. He comes off as trusting but smart, as well as a bit needy. He talks about his parents and what they do, and some places they've been, but when he pauses I can see some sadness poking around behind his eyes. I also realize that the more fatherly I sound, the more he soaks up that attention like a sponge. He's practically starved for it. This could either turn out to be awesome, or orgasmic, or horribly wrong. Right now, though, it's merely company and nothing more. We psych each other up before boarding the ride, even though we've both been on it before. Still, the curves and dips and hills I know by heart are that much more entertaining, especially when we go around a particularly sharp bend and I feel his fingers grip my thigh and hold on. It takes me by such complete surprise that I forget to make a silly face for the camera, whose position I've had memorized for years. I see the flashes through my closed eyelids and silently curse myself. Yet I don't push Ty away; no sense in stopping a good thing. "Oh my God, what were you doing?" he asks as we exit the ride into the gift shop. He's pointing to the the screen shot of our car. Ty is making an adorable cross-eyed face while I seem to be blissed out, grinning with my eyes closed. "You look like you fell asleep." "I've done that ride so many times, I can do it with my eyes closed. It's a lot more exciting." "But it's dark anyway." "But you can still see the scaffolding and stuff. There's still reference points." Ty weighs this bit of information before nodding sagely. "Okay, I getcha." He tugs on my arm. "Let's go over to Adventureland!" Chuckling, I follow helplessly. We wind our way through the park as futuristic machinery gives way to trees and streams. When we get to the ride, the line is short enough that I wouldn't even have needed a FastPass. We walk right in, my hand on Ty's little shoulder, looking more like father and son than many of the actual fathers and sons there. I can tell he's looking around at the other boys and just beaming, and it's sad in a way. It leads me to believe his actual dad isn't there for him as much as he should be, not nearly as much. As we go through the land of Brers Fox, Bear and Rabbit, I educate Ty on the real story behind Song of the South, tar baby and all. At first the boy is mildly horrified, but then he can't stop giggling at how silly the world was back in 1946. "I don't think you could make that today," he says, shaking his head. "Not a chance in hell, unless it was some kind of mockery," I reply. "The people would likely lynch you like they did blacks back in the day." Ty's face scrunches up. "People are stupid." I think about people in general. I think about how many people would want me in jail just for escorting Ty around Disneyland. Then I nod. "Yeah, they're pretty dumb." And then we're on our way up, and then we're plunging down into the water at the bottom. The spray sends sparkling droplets onto his forehead and he looks at me with such happiness that he doesn't notice the wake bouncing off the close-in walls and coming back toward the boat. It smacks my side and rolls away, but a big curl of it makes it over the gunwale and splashes right over Ty's side and thigh. "Shit!" he gasps, and squealing, he reaches for the phone in his right pocket to protect it even though the damage is already done and gone far from the device. He's soaking wet down his left side, and all the way down his leg and into his shoe. "Aw, crap." "Did anything valuable get wet?" I ask. Ty looks embarrassed, but more than that he looks worried. "No, my phone was on the other side. My wallet was underneath, so it didn't get any water on it." "Well don't look so down. It's just some water." He looks up at me and his face is stricken. He leans in and whispers hard. "Yeah, but how am I gonna get home like this? It looks like I pissed myself!" "Hold on, okay?" Ty nods and folds his hands in his lap until the ride comes to a stop. We disembark and go over to a quiet corner just out of hearing range for passersby. "Now what's the big deal? So what if you're wet? Anybody who goes on that ride is going to look the same way." "It's not that, I can't go back to the hotel like this! It's too far!" "Where are you? Disneyland Hotel?" "Katella Palms!" he almost cries, sounding more like nine than twelve. "It's like five blocks away." "Well you can just-" But the devil in my brain stops me from telling him it's not a big deal, no one will think less of him, or he can catch a shuttle, or I can drive him back. It shuts me up and starts me over. "Well, you can just come back to the Grand Californian with me. I'm on-property, and the hotel has a laundry service. We can fix you up there. Or you can just hang out with your mom at the Blue Bayou." "No, it's okay," Ty says quickly. "I wanna get dry." I can sense there's more to it than that, but now is not the time to ask such questions. Just the possibility of getting him out of his clothes sends tingles up my spine. Even just looking at him would be enough. Screw my priority seating for World of Color, this is more entertaining. "Alright. Let's get you dried then." And he takes my hand as we walk back to Downtown Disney. Normally you would think that my mind would be racing with dirty images and fantasies at this point in time. Surprisingly, my foremost thought is getting Ty dry. I wasn't lying about the laundry service; the hotel can wash, dry and press his clothes in about an hour and a half. If the kid was worried about coming back to his parents late, he would have made a bigger fuss. But again, I can sense there's more to it than that. I can't keep from smiling, watching him walk funny from his one soaked shoe. The stain on his shirt leads me to believe he got water down into his crotch. Every few steps he'll lift one leg up high and shake it as if to rid himself of his imbalance. It never works, of course. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he lets me leave it there the rest of the way to the hotel. The Grand Californian Hotel is truly a masterpiece of Arts & Crafts architecture. The attention to detail is one of the main reasons I stay here whenever I'm in town for eye candy. It's not just the hidden Mickeys, either; you can go up to any random corner on any floor, and the woodwork and iron and even the lampshades look just as they did when the hotel opened in 2001. The receptionists give me their usual beaming smiles when we pass through the lobby and into the front desk area. To anyone else we look like a father and son wrapping up another fun day at the parks, even though Ty does his best to walk on the far side of me to hide his "problem." We get an elevator the instant I push the button, and once inside I sigh heavily. "Phew! That was close! I thought someone was gonna catch us there for a second!" Ty's head jerks up, his face a mask of guilt and mild terror. If he was thinking what I was thinking, I think it registered. "What do you mean?" he asks. "Don't think anybody saw your wet clothes," I reply with just enough of a smile to confuse him. "Oh. Oh, yeah," Ty kind of murmurs. He's flustered. He's fucking cute when he's flustered. He looks confused and aggravated and maybe a little horny. My chances might be better than I thought, if he's willing. We reach the top floor and I lead him out of the elevator, to the right and down the hallway to my room. Once inside, I lock up the door (he doesn't notice; it's just something you do nowadays, even at Disney) and he makes a line for the bathroom. "Here, let's do this on the carpet so we don't have a puddle in the bathroom," I say. It's a half-truth, but still a valid reason. Ty looks at me with a hint of suspicion. "I don't really want a wet-shoe puddle on my bathroom floor." The look remains but diminishes. Then he shrugs noncommittally. Good to see he's not too modest. Padding over to the closet, I pull out the hotel's soft terry robe that I never use but some people love. "Come here, let's get that cold crap off." The robe goes on the bed, I sit next to it and Ty stands in front of me. He's starting to shiver because the damn maids who did my room turned the air down to sixty-five degrees. Without pausing to think any further than helping him get warm again, I reach for his shirt. "Arms up." He complies, and off comes the shirt. "Your pockets empty?" "Hold on." Ty sets his phone, wallet, and some assorted papers on the bureau across from the bed, then takes his watch off. It's one of those water-resistant ones you can shower with, but sure. He might not want to get it wet. Then he comes back to me and turns around. "Okay." I'm nonplussed. There has to be something there. The kid's twelve, and he's not the innocent kind of twelve. He's parentless in the park, he's got a bit of street wisdom in his head. And I know-believe me, I can tell-that he's been jacking off for at least a year, if not a few. Whether he wants a touch or something more is beyond me yet, but I'll keep pressing little by little. My fingers are steady as they reach around his curvy hips and find his belt buckle. A few seconds later it's undone, and I move on to the fly, careful to pull it away from his body as I take it down. The jeans fall to the floor, leaving a pair of grey boxer briefs. And they're tight, too, not baggy like a lot of kids like to wear. I can see every inch of Ty's rear. The material stretches over his crack without pinching into it, and I just want to run my hands-not to mention my tongue-over it. Instead, not wanting to seem like I'm staring (which I am), I hook my fingers under the elastic and pull them off as well. Jesus Christ, he's pretty. He'll probably be handsome in a few years, but he's perfect right now. Just enough fat around his middle and rear to soften him up without feminizing him. And of course his skin is smooth and blemish-free except for a mole here and there. Everything is covered in a very fine fuzz, not even enough to be visible, but just enough to feel with fingertips. Before I can do something I might regret, I wrap him in the robe, which he puts on the rest of the way. "Step out of that stuff so I can call the laundry people," I say. Ty does that and I pile the clothes next to the door. He looks much happier now that he's not soggy and cold. In fact, he looks pretty okay just in the robe, not very shy. I go to my knees before him with a serious adult face and hold his arms at his sides. "Okay Tyler, no more pissing yourself." Ty's face screws up into a mask of anger. "That's not funny." And I'll be damned if he doesn't wind up and slug me right in the shoulder. "It is too," I reply. "It's hilarious!" His expression looks so downright comical, and he doesn't even know the robe's slipped open slightly and I can see his bits through the gap. It's too cute to not laugh at. So I do, and he slugs me again. I slug him back, and to hell with it, start tickling him. "No!" he squeals, collapsing halfway to the floor until I catch him in the armpits and hold him as he squirms. "No no noooooo!" "Yesssss!" He tries to push me away and I rock back at him, sending us both to the floor. By this time he's laughing like crazy and writhing around, but compared to me he just can't wriggle away or do much of anything. His robe is now completely open, and neither of us seems to mind. I know I don't. He lays atop my chest, almost humping into me. A very nice feeling, if I say so. Now, if I could just get him still long enough to get a look... "Noooo..." Now he's moaning, going limp in my hands. But when he looks at me this confused, slightly shameful look crosses his face, and my first thought is he's epileptic and having a seizure. Then I feel warmth spreading across my crotch and I know exactly what that look is about. The little fucker's pissing on me, and he couldn't help it. I push him up and look down my body. Sure enough, a long, strong stream of urine sprays from his dick directly onto my fly, soaking everything through to the skin. My cock is instantly hard, watching this involuntary response brought on by our shenanigans. When Ty puts his hands on my chest to push away, I take the opportunity to grab his member and aim it so he hits me almost up to my chin. He's not looking at me, more staring into space with the dazed expression of a boy who's never had himself handled before. The stream dribbles to a stop. Immediately after, he starts to bone up in my fingers. What is a man to do? Keep stroking him, because he's not telling me to stop. This lasts about twenty seconds until Ty opens his eyes again, and looks at me. I think he finally knows what's up. So, to break the tension, I grab him and turn us both over so I'm lying atop him, crotch to crotch. His hardness slides along mine, and I know he can feel me through my jeans. Grinning down at him, I flex my PC muscle and let my own stream go. Years of Kegel exercises will make a guy talented. God, it feels so awesome letting go like this with a kid! Suddenly I'm ten years old again, stealing my little sister's diapers to feel what it's like wearing them, that same kind of naughtiness. I watch the shock settle into his face, the mixed horror and little-boy excitement that this guy he just met in Disneyland is pissing on him just as he did. My stream is long; as I lift up it continues to drip down onto his bits before dribbling to a stop. "Now we're even," I say, grinding myself into him for good measure. After making reasonably sure he's not going to run from the room screaming, I sit on my haunches and lift him up. The robe slips off completely but Ty doesn't seem to mind. I think this makes him a pretty cool kid. "I used to wet the bed until I was eight," he says. "I had to wear Pull-Ups every night." His boner's still there, but it's starting to flag, probably because he's starting to sniff a bit. "Oh, Ty, come here." He drops to his knees and embraces me with a puddle of pee cooling between us. He doesn't cry, but I can tell he wants to. Having never been subject to juvenile teasing as a youngster, I can't relate but I can certainly sympathize. We stay that way for a long time, holding his young warm nude body next to me. I know he wants more. He wants to be close, but he doesn't know how to ask. If he didn't-if he wasn't at least curious-he would be more reserved. "You okay?" His back is unreal. It's so smooth and soft, the skin bunching up before my fingers in just the right places. I go so far as to cup his buttocks and knead them gently, to which Ty sighs. "I'm okay," he whispers in my ear. "Really okay?" "Really really." I pull his rear apart and delve my fingers as close as I can get to his hole without actually touching it. He first sighs, then gasps, but doesn't pull away. My erection is painful, but I temper it with the thought that our evening is far from over. I put him down and leave him with a peck on the lips, which makes him giggle and look younger than he is. "Let's clean up. As much as I'd love to keep smelling like little-boy pee..." Ty giggles even harder and watches as I strip and throw my clothes in the corner with his wet garments. He eyes me up and down when I get my boxers off, hesitating between my legs. I'd like to know what's going through his head right now. How much he wants to do. What he thinks I'm going to do. Well, I'm going to show him right now. I turn on the water in the tub, let it warm up, and set the shower to running. After confirming with Ty that it's to his liking, I usher him in first, eeping as he gets used to the steaming spray. Then I follow him, drawing the curtains behind me. The water's already plastered his hair to his forehead, dripping off his chin and making him look even cuter. His erection is back in full force, all three-plus inches of it, bobbing stiffly from his crotch. His eyes follow my shaft as I kneel in the tub, beckoning him to me. "What're we gonna-" "C'mere, Ty." He comes and I wrap him in my arms, sighing as heavily as he does when our skin touches and his dick digs into my chest. I want to wrap my lips around it so badly, but I resist the urge for now. I'm not that kind of person. I want to give him love, not take his innocence. So I start by kissing him lightly again. He returns it gladly, his lips lingering on mine from his own hesitation. My hands go directly to his ass, holding each cheek in my comparatively large hands, squeezing and wishing I could soap up a finger and slide it right inside. That might not even happen tonight, but I could care less. This boy has a lot of love to offer, and I'll take whatever he can give me. When I turn my head to the side, he knows to cant in the opposite direction. "You're good at this," I say. "Thank you," he replies breathlessly. "Want to continue?" "Oh, yes." So I clamp my mouth down and pry his teeth apart with my tongue. "Oh, God," he moans semi-incoherently. I take the opportunity to breathe in his breath: mostly scent-free, with the possible exception of a hint of something sweet and fruity. Maybe a pineapple spear or chocolate strawberry. It's fresh and not anything close to halitosis. I want more of it, and I practically lick it from Ty's palate. His body trembles, probably just as much from anxiousness as arousal. I try to quell any thoughts he might have about me being a bad person by holding him right up against me, so we share the warmth of our bodies as well as the water coming down on top of us. I could go into some lengthy exposition about love and lust and youthful beauty, but that's not the way I think. It's just fucking hot, and Ty is letting me do it. I am absolutely honored. Minutes pass, during which I explore as much of his body as I can. From the top of his head to his calves, my fingers curl and trace and smooth over every inch of the back of him, and I even get a fingertip into his hole, which makes him groan and hump my belly. I don't know if this kid figured me out from the beginning, but we're here now and that's all that matters. That tight pucker feels like it could milk the cum from my balls. Only if he wants. I could come in two strokes right now as it is. Eventually my craving for his cock outweighs my desire to keep kissing him and I pull away, not without resistance. But my hand under his slightly-dropped balls keeps his jaw dropped just fine. I rub the little things around with my fingers, pulling on his tight shaft and moving up so I have a circle around it. When I start jerking him off, his breathing goes crazy and I have to hold his back in case he decides to take a tumble. Kneeling forward, I whisper in his ear: "Should I take care of this for you?" "Oh, my God..." That's all the answer I need. I situate myself so he's standing inside of my outstretched legs. Holding myself by the edges of the tub, water spraying off Ty's back and all around us, I lower my head to his penis and take the whole thing easily into my mouth. I can't really describe the sound he makes, other than a gurgle mixed with a yelp. It brings a smile to my face, because it's the sound of a complete virgin. You can't replicate that kind of authentic reaction, and once you've had your first blowjob you never experience the explosive sensation of a warm mouth for the first time ever again. I wish I could see his face, see whether he's staring out into space or looking down at his dick disappearing between my lips. By the way his hips are quivering, I know he's having a good time. From the feel of it, Ty is about four inches long now that I'm giving his dick a reason to bone up as much as it can. About average for a twelve-year-old, and a perfect mouthful. There isn't a hint of hair above it, which suits me just fine, and his balls are still tight enough that I can stick out my tongue and lick over them without taking any attention from where it counts the most. Ty grips my shoulders and merely holds on, rather than pumping at my face. Thirty seconds in and I know he's going to blow soon. I was the same way with my first blowjob, which didn't happen until I was nineteen, unlucky me. I search out his hole again and tease around its rim. It feels perfect; I can't wait to get my tongue up there. All in due time. First I have to see if Ty won't freak out once he's shot his load. Settling into a steady back-and-forth rhythm, I keep up the pressure on his hole just enough to encourage a little hump action, and it's not long before Ty realizes it feels awesome to be fucking another guy's mouth. Still, he lets me do most of the work, which is fine because I want to know when he's nutted, if he's able to. "Come for me," I mumble. "Mm-hmm...!" he squeaks through a cracking voice barely able to contain itself. As small as he is, I can still feel him swell against my tongue. Sure enough, his balls have regressed to a little coin purse, tight and wrinkled up against his body. I stop my oral stroking and sit on the end of his dick, swirling my tongue in a manner that has gotten many a man off quickly. Ty is no different, throwing his head back and uttering a noise that doesn't sound like it's coming from a kid. A second later I feel him pulsing, and a couple decent shots of sweet cum hit the back of my throat and coat my tongue. I stay latched on until his body stops spasming. While not his first orgasm ever (or probably not even his thousandth), I still gave him something novel. I hope to give him more. After pulling off and swallowing, I ask him, "How was that?" He looks angelic like that, flushed and soaked from the shower. His penis is an angry, satisfied red, still pulsing away, still hard as a rock. God, I envy him. "Jesus Christ." Ty looks down at me in wonderment. "You just gave me a blow...blowjob." I nod slightly. "And you just came in my mouth. You taste good." For a moment he looks plain confused. Then it dawns on him and he gets this goofy smile, turned up on one side. He scopes me out as I stay knelt before him, as if seeing me as a sexual being for the first time. "I didn't mean to!" "You didn't mean to what?" "Uh, didn't mean to act like I wanted...that. I didn't know I was." Hmm, he sounds doubtful. I don't think he's regretting it exactly, though. "Whether or not you wanted it, how do you feel about it?" I take his hand in mine and pull him down to his knees, leaning in for another small kiss. He returns it greedily, not minding one bit when I begin to stroke him again. Ty pulls back. Looks down. Thinks. I would love to know what's going through his young mind. I never got to experience what I've just given this young boy, but I'd like to know how he's processing this. "You're not gonna hurt me, right? I mean, I don't think you would, but...I dunno." "Oh, Ty..." I'm appalled at first, but as I embrace him, pulling him on top of me and holding him as we lay in the tub, I understand where he's coming from. Kids are taught to stay away from adults who tempt them, and those teachings are solidly based. But they also teach that love has an age limit, that no one under eighteen can make decisions. So kids who are ready to love stay ashamedly introverted, scared to share their feelings, sometimes with the men who take their breath away. I was one of these boys, and I will always regret not talking to one of my mentors as a child. He might have understood. "Do you think I hurt you, just now?" I ask, my voice wavering beyond my control. More than anything, I want to know he is okay. If I misinterpreted his signals, I want to know now. He takes some time to answer, which is disconcerting in itself. "No. It was great, just...a lot, all at once." He's struggling with the words. He's trying to put a nonchalant face on it, to act like a grownup, but he's afraid of hurting my feelings or angering me. I need to let him know there's no reason to fear that. "Let's get cleaned up and out of the bathroom, how about that? We can talk on the bed?" He nods, smiling, his eyes as brilliantly green as ever. That's encouraging. We both stand up and I grab the special bar of seaweed soap Disney provides all its guests and lather him down. He doesn't seem to mind one bit, even spreading his legs for me to get at his bits again. I give those a nice slow scrubbing and he rinses while I do his hair. It's quite a thrill to be washing a boy who appreciates your attention. Ty doesn't offer to reciprocate and I don't ask him to; like I said, we need to talk. I call the laundry service while Ty dries himself off, and he hides his naked self around the corner while I hand our respective clothes, in a plastic bag, to the woman who picks them up to be cleaned. I tip her generously while explaining how I tickled my "son" into peeing himself, and she nods and laughs. It will be about ninety minutes before they're done. Ty is lying on the bed, waiting for me. He hasn't bothered to cover up. "You don't want your robe?" I ask, my eyebrows raised. "Why, you just blew me," he replies. That makes me smile, and I doff the shorts and shirt I put on for the maid's benefit. He watches me the whole time I strip and launch myself beside him on the big king bed. "Alright, time to talk," I say. Ty's expression becomes more subdued; I'm glad he can take me seriously. "Why did you let me kiss you in there, in the tub?" Ty looks around, searching the room for an answer. He clicks his tongue in easy contemplation. "It didn't start there." "Oh, I know. It just...escalated there." "It escalated when you tickled me," he says petulantly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tickled you when you didn't want it. But...if I may say so...it was the hottest thing having you pee on me. You might not understand it, but watching you soak me got me as hard as I've ever been." My blush creeps up my neck and gives me away. He blushes just watching me. "Really? I thought it was because I was a kid." Well, I can't lie on that count. "That's a big part of it, yeah, Ty, but... I don't know how to explain it." "S'okay. I used to like it." He pauses, looks down, gets a cherubic grin on his face. "When I was seven, before they switched me to Pull-Ups, I would wake up right as I was about to pee. I would try different positions, like on my back or pushing it down between my legs. Sometimes I would wake up right in the middle. That would make me hard." He looks down. He's made me quite hard, and now I just start stroking it openly. I don't care about him seeing me, and he doesn't care about seeing me seeing him seeing me. "Why are you sharing all this with me, Ty? You just met me, like, three hours ago." "I don't have anyone else to tell it to!" he says, up on one elbow, his little dick again at full mast. "I can't tell my parents this stuff. Or my friends. They think it's weird." "You know, it's normal," I say. "Yeah?" "Completely. And I'm not just lying to your face, either. I'm not that kind of guy." "I knew that when you talked to me in the Space Mountain line." I'm so touched by that, that I kiss him on the forehead, gently, sweetly. "It warms my heart to hear you say that, Ty. I'm sure you know what we're doing isn't looked upon positively." "I know. That sucks." "I don't think you understand." "I know you could go to jail for a long time, and that you'd never be able to live, like, next to a school or anything again. They gave us this video at school. The guys in the video were creeps." "I'm not a creep?" "If you were, I wouldn't have talked to you. And I wouldn't have gone on rides with you." "Well, I'm glad I'm a nice guy." "Really nice." Ty's watching me work my cock up and down slowly. I can almost see him mentally licking his lips. He wants it. But why, I wonder. Just why. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "We're naked!" Ty says. "It's already personal!" "Okay, okay. Are your parents there for you?" "Oh yeah," he says, his brow creased. "Just, not as much as I like. I'm the only kid...which is fine...but Mom and Dad are busy with life stuff. Like, Dad is a rep for this technology company, and he goes down here once a month. We have Annual Passports 'cuz he comes down from the Bay so much, and sometimes he brings us along if we wanna come." "If your dad makes so much money, why are you staying at some motel down the street?" I ask. "'Cuzza Mom," Ty says, not without some venom. "She's at Club 33 getting loaded and looking expensive." I grimace. Club 33 is an exclusive VIP area above the Blue Bayou that costs an arm and a leg to join, and another arm to maintain access. The only reason I know about it is because I saw the door one time and asked a cast member who rolled her eyes as she explained. "So your mom hobnobs with the rich folks while bankrupting your dad?" I ask. Ty shrugs. "Not bankrupting. He makes enough, and Mom's happy." "Are you happy going through the park by yourself?" "Hell yeah!" he almost shouts, but catches himself. "My mom gets six instant Fastpasses, so I go right to the head of the line. I used mine up before noon today, or else I woulda gotten us on faster." "That's okay. We had time to talk." "Mhm." What he said about his family is nagging at me. It sounds like he has plenty of love but not enough attention, which explains why he was so eager to talk to me. But I have to know... "So, are you saying that you befriended me because I paid attention to you?" "Kinda," Ty replies. "You were interested in me. It was like you wanted to hang, you know? And...and, I saw you looking at me. It made me feel good." "Like, how?" "You're old. You're alone in Disneyland. You don't look at me like other adults do. I thought maybe you liked to be around kids. Not...not in that way, but...liked to have fun with 'em. Well..." "Was I obvious?" I ask him, point-blank. "No. But once we did the first ride, it felt different with you. I started having thoughts, and part of me hoped you were. Because I was horny." "You're twelve. Of course you're going to be horny." I reach over and flick my finger against his little cockhead, making him jump and giggle. "What I'm getting at is, are you okay with what we did? If I'd had any doubt about your maturity, I never would have engaged you past that first ride. So far you've shown me you're quite grown-up. I'm also kind of asking if you'd like to keep going." Ty's eyes light up like the Electric Parade. "You think I'm grown up?" "Way more than you should be, but I'm glad." "That'd be cool." He strokes himself a few times. "If you want to, too." "We have two hours to kill," I reply. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend them." "I never thought I would be doing this," Ty says. "Getting your first blowjob? Playing with a grown-up?" "All of it." "You had to know you would get to it eventually," I say. "When did you start jerking off?" Ty thinks. "Just before I turned ten. I didn't know how to do it right until I saw a porno last year, though. That's when I started doing it every day, when I could come easier." "Cool. I started about eleven. Just played with it one day and it felt good, so I played some more. Then I tensed up and got that great feeling. I was hooked." "Me too. Can I ask you a question?" He sounds hesitant, so I say that all-too-overused line. "You can touch it if you want, little boy." I put as much creep into it as I can, shoving my groin forward lewdly. Ty just laughs. "You knew what I was gonna ask!" "I've been around a while." "So I can?" "Knock yourself out." I roll onto my back, my cock flopping into its customary position slightly to the right of my navel, fairly hard and waiting for Ty's touch. Putting my arms behind my head, I watch him scoot closer, and then attach himself to my side so his dick grinds against my hip. He brings his leg up over my knee and rests his head on my belly. It's too cute, seeing his curiosity at a man's genitals. His body is warmer than mine, comforting. My hand goes to his rump and massages it. "Are you average for a grown-up?" he asks, his fingers making uncertain circles right next to my glans. "I'm actually on the top end of average," I inform him. "Anywhere from five and three-quarters to six and a quarter inches is average. I'm almost six and a half. Average girth, which is fine with me. So, when you're seventeen, measure yourself and see where you are on that scale." His hand hovers over my length. "Am I average right now?" "I'd say you're right on track." "Cool." His hand descends and alights. I haven't felt that special kind of touch in quite a while. I can't help humping up to meet his light grip. "Oh, wow..." "How do I compare to your dad?" "Never seen it." "Am I the first one?" "I've seen a lot in locker rooms. But never touched one. I can't believe you're letting me." "I can't believe I lucked out so much today," I reply. "That feels awesome, by the way. Grip it a little harder, go up and down." "I know how it goes, I was just taking my time." "Okay, Mr. Bossypants." I watch him for a few moments more before just closing my eyes and experiencing the feel of his touch, kneading his butt with absentminded strokes of my fingers. Ty's hand isn't quite big enough to reach all the way around, but what he can grab he's rubbing quite well. I relish the sensation of his smaller, smoother skin on mine while I play my way to his hole, rubbing around it. He shifts around so I have better access. I like how comfortable he is back there; not every kid will just let you play like that. Not right away. "You're leaking," Ty says after a short while. Sure enough, I'm starting to dribble a bit, getting it in my treasure trail. "It does that when it's stimulated. You might be doing the same in a couple years." "Maybe." "You know, I don't leak too easily. Consider it a compliment." Ty looks up, still stroking. "Am I doing something special?" "No, you're just fucking hot," I respond, making him blush something fierce. "Why are you attracted to little kids?" I have to think a little bit on that one. Nobody's ever asked me so directly before. "Number one, Ty, you're not a little kid. And number two, some people just are. Just like if you're gay or straight, or if you're attracted to younger guys." "Like boys." "Fine, sure," I grumble, licking my finger and actually getting him to open up a bit back there. He gasps. "You're not complaining any." "No way," Ty says, and licks my cockhead before I need to tell him. He milks me from the bottom up, sending another runnel of pre out and down, but he catches it before it gets to my stomach. He licks up the puddle too. "You have no idea how hot it is watching you do that," I say, suppressing a groan. Instead of answering, Ty licks the head again, taking the first inch into his mouth without me having to press him. Then he stays there, bobbing ever so slightly, stretching his lips until he can take me all the way to the corona. I can't believe he's never done this before. "You're a natural." "Mmmm." Well said. Or, hummed. I bring my finger to my nose and sniff. Nothing but boy-sweat and clean skin, very good. I get it nice and slick and go back to his hole, stretching it more until I'm in up to the first knuckle. I don't know if I'm going to be able to get my dick in there, but I can hope. That's what lube is for, and I have the good stuff. Ty proves to be a fast learner, and an apt pupil. Any hesitation he might have had has evaporated, leaving him wanting to explore his curiosities about male genitalia. He holds my dick in one hand while the other cups my balls, or at least tries to. In his current position he can only get a couple inches down before gagging, but I am enjoying myself immensely. Everything about this boy is young and smooth, even his tongue. I don't even have to tell him to watch the teeth. When he starts squirming, I take my finger out, thinking I'm making him uncomfortable. But instead, he looks up at me. "I wanna get at it better." "Well, I'm not stopping you! Come here." I get him to rotate around so he's laying on my chest in a modified sixty-nine position. I am treated to the most beautiful sight of cheeks and balls I have ever seen. All smooth and white and soft and curvy...and the best part is it's all within easy reach of my tongue. I plan to bathe him thoroughly. God, even his tummy bulges out on either side! I could just hold onto it and hump away. It's difficult not to turn him over and shoot all over that perfect pink pucker. But I want it in him, not on him. Now that we're more comfortable, Ty wastes no time in going back down on me. I thank the endowment gods for not giving me a larger organ, because his mouth is a perfect fit for my girth. A shudder runs through me; I grab his buttocks and hold on as he takes three...four...five inches! Slowly down until I feel him tense, then back off. "You swear you've never done this before?" I ask, my voice breaking. Ty pulls off, leaving my length glistening with a mixture of saliva and mucus. Licks it up and down. "Swear to God, never ever. I don't think I can get it all in, Frank. I'm sorry." He actually looks disappointed. "Oh, Ty, I didn't expect you to take nearly as much as you did! You're gonna make me come if you keep that up." "Okay!" He beams, sliding back down my shaft. Well, alright then. His little entrance is right in front of my face, so, with nothing more important to do, I stick my tongue right up there. He cries out and jerks away, but only until he realizes how fucking good rimming feels. Then he bears back onto my face. Half my tongue disappears. I quickly find out that the more I lick his sensitive bits, the more enthusiastically he treats my cock. And, since Ty seems to want my load, I ought to encourage him. His little balls are right there, and getting at them is no trouble at all. They're about a third my size, just beginning to grow, and already dropped some so I can suck one, then the other, into my mouth. He wriggles around at the strange sensation, but he loves when I lick along his sac up to his hole. I get my face in there as deep as I can, even licking along the underside of his dick before my neck starts to strain. Ty keeps up his constant bobbing and I eventually have to settle for just licking his ass while concentrating on the gradual buildup to my climax. He's doing it just right too, using his lips as a seal rather than for suction while stroking the base to milk me. My lower body strains against the onslaught, but as usual my libido wins out, giving me almost no time to warn the boy. "Ty..." is all I manage to croak before I unleash into his mouth, digging into his ass and holding on for dear life. He holds me down while I try to thrust. He moans, waiting for me to finish before he licks the excess from my head and pulls off, turning around so I can see him swishing it around before swallowing it. Then he gags at the sensation. "It's not for everybody," I say. "I can see why," he replies. "That was, like, way too much!" "You teased me all day. That's what you get." I collapse back onto the pillows, panting and rubbing his buns. When he turns the side of his belly rumples up into delicious-looking rolls. "Come on." He climbs up beside me and we share another long, intimate kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue. "Thank you for sharing that with me." "Thanks for letting me," he says, looking deep into my eyes. Nah, he's not smitten, but he's having fun. I can tell that just by the way his dick grinds against my hip. I bet a second round won't be far off. I roll to face him and grab ahold of the little thing. He inhales sharply and looks down, humping my fingers as they move over his thin shaft. "How long would it take you to come again?" "Which way?" he asks. "Jerking, maybe ten minutes. Sucking me again, hehe, like three." "What about fucking?" "Huh?" Ty looks at me like I've just turned into a cartoon character or something. His face is devoid of any comprehension whatsoever, and I find it unbelievably cute that fucking had never occurred to him. "How long would it take if you fucked me?" His dick swells noticeably. "W-what do you mean?" "If you put this thing in my hole. You know, like sex. How long?" "I never said I wanted to do that!" "But I'm a pretty good judge of people. And I have a feeling you would like it. Have you ever thought about putting your dick in anything?" "NO! I mean, sometimes. When I was little I would hump the bed, but that never went anywhere. Like, a year and a half ago, I wanted to...uh...do it with our dog." "You're kidding me." "She likes to cuddle, and sometimes she licks herself a lot back there. One time I touched it after she licked it. It was warm and soft. I thought about it. She's a Saint Bernard. She's so big she wouldn't even feel it." "You should try, when you go home. She might even like it." Ty is as hard as he can get, and his face is bright red from his revelation. "Have you ever done anything like that?" "Nah. It's not my kind of thing." "Sorry, Frank." "What? Nothing to be sorry about. You do what you feel, and so do I. I don't hold anything against you." Ty hugs me tightly. "Thanks." "You bet. So, how about it?" "What? F...doing you? You'd let me?" "What does it look like I'm doing? I would love it if you humped the hell out of me. I don't care if you come quickly, either. I wanna watch your face while you shoot." "Omigod..." I respond by pulling him on top of me, in between my legs and wrapping around him. In my experience this is the universal symbol for, "Take me, I'm yours." Ty's legs spread as his cock nudges into my crack, sliding effortlessly over my hole due to its small size. He's going to love this. "In hindsight, we should have used some of my cum to lube me up," I say. "It works pretty well." "That woulda been so hot!" Ty agrees, humping some more. Now that he's in the position, he can see how easy it would be to just shove it right in. I say, "In the bathroom, there's a white tub that looks like margarine. Bring that back so I can get you inside me." He obeys, jumping off the bed and returning a second later, looking at the tub with a precious look on his face. "'Boy Butter.' Does it just work on boys?" "No," I chuckle. "That's just the name. They call it that because it feels like butter when you put it on. And it feels awesome with a slicked-up dick in your butt." He blushes at that. I can tell he's thinking about how I would feel deep in him. My cock dances a little in response. "So put some on me, and put some on you, and hump me already!" "I...okay." He looks so green, because he is. I halfway think I'm going to have to guide him every step of the way, but he opens the tub and grabs a gob of lube, slathering it over my hole, poking in a little as well. He watches me closely, thinking he's going to hurt me. "You're fine. I've had bigger things in there." "Like what, carrots?" I chuckle again. "Other guys. Big guys." His eyes widen. "Cool. That's hot, I'm gonna be in where other dicks have been." "That's how it works." "How many?" "Lots." Not really that many compared to others, I think, but he doesn't know that. I let the little white lie fuel his desire as he thrusts against me, getting himself nice and slick. Then he angles it slightly and slides in to the hilt. We both gasp for the same reason. I pin him to me with my legs. "How does that feel, Ty?" His face is a mask of wonderment, frozen in pleasure and stunned into silence at the realization that he, at the tender young age of twelve, is tapping his first ass. His length is perfect...just wonderful. "Now fuck me." And fuck me he does, starting out slowly enough but speeding up when he sees I can take all he can give without any complaint. Soon he's bent over me, hands on my legs, hunching away. "I'm really doing it," he groans, staring down at me and then up again at the ceiling. "It feels so good." "That's why adults do it so much," I say. "I don't think my parents do it at all anymore," he replies. "You'd be surprised. They have ways of keeping it quiet. You might want to sneak around and try to find your dad doin' your mom. Or, even better, just catch your dad beating off." "No way! You think he does that?" Oh, ye of little hope. "I know he does. If he's a man, he does. Who wouldn't, with their dick right there? If only he knew what you were doing right now...I wonder how he'd react?" "He'd kill me!" "Maybe he'd want to join..." It's worth throwing out as long as he's worked up. He goes silent and his eyes close. Could he really be considering it? Well, he did touch the family dog...he might be suggestible to anything at this point. I bring my hand around to the side of his face and pull him toward me. He gets most of the way down before I say, "You gonna breed me, son? Fill up your old man." "Nnngh!" Ty's eyes pop wide open, and though he can see me I'm not sure he actually sees me. He makes sounds no kid would normally make, because kids aren't allowed to be as sexual as they want or need to be. "Go on, Tyler." That sends him over the edge and into the next county. I must have struck a nerve deep down somewhere. Two more thrusts and he stiffens atop me; I can't feel it, but I know he's shooting. "Damn, yeah, good boy." I take a mental picture of him as he is now, frozen and pure in his mounting stance, face screwed up in concentrated pleasure. It's just as strong as the first, if not stronger. He collapses onto my chest, still buried and breathing hard. I let him recuperate for as long as it takes him to weakly lift his head, give me a one-sided smile, and say, "Awesome." "You are." He giggles and hugs me about the waist. Now I can feel a little bit of sloshing around in there. "You're a big shooter, you know that?" "Really?" "Really really," I mimic him. "My turn?" He stiffens again, for a different reason. "Can I stay inside for a little longer?" "Sure." And that's exactly what we do, for about ten minutes: just holding each other and listening to our hearts beating. He finally softens and slips out. I'm perfectly erect; I have been this whole time. Tumbling onto his back, he spreads his legs and instantly becomes an inviting target. A very tight one, though. I'm on top of him immediately, doing my best version of a predator. "Hey, no! No no nooooooo!" he shrieks, laughing. "You're gonna make me pee again!" So much for the tickle torture I was planning. I lick around his neck playfully instead, using my cock to feel for his entrance. I glide right over it several times, the change in texture enough to get me to leak anew. Ty says softly, "Please don't yet." I back off instantly. "I wasn't going to. I never would have, without your say-so. Did you think I was going to force myself on you?" He looks away and that's telling enough. He didn't trust me still, after all this time. "I just...I know how I felt when you told me I could. I didn't feel like I could stop. I didn't want you to do it to me, because you're so big. I guess I should have trusted you. Sorry." "No." I hold his gaze to make sure he can see I mean what I say. "You're very smart for doing that. You're right in not automatically trusting everyone right away. There are a lot of bad people out there, and a lot of men who just want you for their gratification." He grins. "And you don't?" " Nope," I reply. "I want you for your sexual gratification." At this he smooches me all over. " I so lucked out. Okay, how do I do it? Get...done, I guess?" "Fingers first." I lay him on the pillows and tell him to keep his legs spread. It's too tempting, so I dive in for another rimming session, enjoying his pubescent moans and crackly voice when he begs for my dick. Once primed with the butter, the first finger slides in easily, the second almost so. By the time I get the third in, watching his face and asking him to confirm the absence of pain, I'm convinced it's time. He may be so excited by the prospect that he's simply too horned up to feel anything other than pleasure. Fine by me. I roll him onto his side and scoot up behind him to spoon, though my cock ends up probing him if I so much as twitch my hips. "I thought you wanted to see my face," he murmurs. I lift his left leg and, with my thumb, pull his cleft apart to aim up to that clenching, slick hole. "Aren't I looking at it?" He looks at me, though from the corner of his eye, but we can still see each other. I put some pressure on him and feel his sphincter start to spread. "Ohhhh Frank omigod..." "Does it hurt?" "Fuck no! I...this...wow..." He can't speak for all his panting, so I soothe him by rubbing over his belly with one hand, cupping his head with the other. I lean forward to whisper into his ear. "Breathe deeply." He breathes in. "Now relax and let it out." He lets it out, and I push it in. He shakes as inch by inch, I penetrate him. Seeing his face contort while feeling his warmth spreading out around me is something words can't even begin to describe. Not to mention the virgin-tightness without all the virgin awkwardness. When I've sunk all I can sink, I stop to let him acclimate. "Hey, Ty?" "Huh?" "You just lost your virginity." "Not all of them." "Oh?" "You gotta squirt in me now. Breeeeeeed me, daddy." Then he sticks his tongue out at me. Yeah, he might be kidding, but it's a pretty hot fantasy for me. Just being here with him is a pretty hot fantasy. "If you insist." With that, I withdraw, eliciting a pitiful whine of disappointment before shoving it back in, hard. He stays right with me the whole time, grimacing only when I bottom out but otherwise he's okay. He doesn't beg me to go harder or faster though, so I vary my pace until I find something we both can enjoy. Having just come a half hour ago, I've technically interrupted my middle-aged-man refractory period. Normally it would take me quite a while to build up to speed, but this is no ordinary situation. This is a sexy and sex-crazed kid in my bed, wordlessly begging me to dick him! I feel younger just being with him, and so does my cock. Maybe it has something to do with the park. Whatever it is, I feel great, and no matter how slow I go, everything that is tense down there will soon let go. It's as inevitable as the changing of the seasons. After a bit I just close my eyes and listen to the sounds of our coupling: my heart in my ears, Ty's labored breaths and grunts, my tongue as it licks his cheek, shoulder, arm. Presently I feel little fingers exploring around where we're joined, followed by an extended "Wow..." "Feels good, doesn't it?" "You're really in me! It's so stretched..." "The anus is an amazing thing," I tell him, feeling the itch and slowing down to try to stave it off. It doesn't work. "And now you're going to get bred." "It's coming?" he asks, sounding surprisingly innocent for a kid who's just been through what he has. "I am, soon." I hike his leg up, gain a better angle, and I'm done for. "You're too much. I can't hold it back." "Then don't. Ooooooh..." I lean up, he leans back and our lips meet just right. This time it's his tongue that snakes its way past my teeth to tickle my palate, and I lose it. Somehow I manage to keep from slamming the last few thrusts before I let go, feeling the warmth and increased slickness surround my head. " Ah shit that's weird!" Ty exclaims. "Awesome, yer coming, yer coming, holy shit!" Foreheads together, we breathe in each other's essences as I fill him with me. It subsides all too quickly and I have to stop, though I stay hard much longer than normal. We enjoy another ten-minute cuddle-during which Ty tries and fails to get off a third time-before I plop out of him. He waddles to the bathroom to empty while I wipe off and get dressed in some clean clothes, just in time to answer a knock at the door. The laundry is done, right on time. I sign for it and tip the lady, then lay Ty's clothes on the bed. When he comes out, he looks kind of sad to have to put them back on. For once, he's flaccid. "The park closes in about fifteen minutes," I say while he pulls on his underwear and pants. "Anybody tried to call you yet?" "My phone was on vibrate," Ty responds. "That would explain it." I grab the phone and toss it to him. He looks very mature, shirtless and checking for messages. "She called once, figured I was on a ride and then texted me. She said she'll be a while. But I should go back to the park and be close." He smiles; we're both thinking the same thing. Secret naughtiness is awesome. "I would walk you back there, but if your mom saw us, bad things might happen." "I understand," he says, and finishes putting on his shirt. "Are you going to be okay?" I can tell he's sad to go. He shrugs. "It's not like they're abusive or anything. Just busy. I can handle myself fine." "I know, just making sure. Like I have any control over it anyway." I kneel down and he comes to me, embracing me in a tight hug that neither of us wants to end. "How often do you come to town, again?" He lights up at the thought that I would want to see him. "About twice a month. It's not always the same time of the week, but it's the same motel, same pattern. I just walk around. I'd rather do it with you though." "You're sweet." I mean it. "And horny." "I'm twelve." "Nothing wrong with that. You wanna trade numbers?" "What if someone goes through my phone?" "It's a dummy. I always let it go to voicemail, and if it's not someone I know and who's safe, I don't even answer or call back." He nods and understands. He enters my dummy number and I pick up my secondary phone and do the same with his. Then he saunters back over to me and holds me on one side. We sway slowly for a bit. "I hope we get to do this again," Ty says, looking up at me. "Thanks for being nice to me, and stuff." "And stuffing." He laughs. "Yeah, and that too. Wow." "Yeah, wow." I lead him to the door and kneel for one more hug. I get a kiss for my trouble. "Bye, Frank." "Bye, Ty." I look after him until he rounds the corner on his way to the elevators, and then close and lock my door. My heart does a little flutter in my chest, but I tamp it down, opting to turn on the television and while away the rest of my evening. Going out boy-watching tomorrow will be different, now that I've gotten a taste of what I was fishing for. My phone rings some time later, waking me up. I look at the clock before picking up; it's almost midnight. Then I realize I've picked up the wrong phone. Pressing the SEND key, I say, "Hello?" "I thought you let it go to voicemail." Ty's voice brightens me right up. "I was sleeping. I didn't even look at the screen." Bad mistake, but not mortal. "Did you forget something?" "No, I just...my dad texted me. Something went wrong and they're delayed for a day. We have to stay longer. He was worried but I told him I could just hang out at the park tomorrow too. He thought I would be bored." I grin devilishly, and it shows in my words. "I'm sure you'll find something to do." He gets my drift. "Yeah, plenty of things. And stuff." "And stuffing things." "Yeah, maybe. Space Mountain, ten o'clock tomorrow?" "I'll be there." "I'll give you cutsies." Happiest place on Earth. Definitely. 9/19-11/8/11