Copyright 2002 by

This is a fictional story, no elves or reindeer were injured in its creation. This story is of holiday giving between friends, young and old. If you don't like friendship, don't read it. If you don't like love, I'm sorry for you. If you are not old enough to legally read this, find your friend and have him read it to you. You can send me comments, but if you are one of those who like to send viruses to authors, it will be blocked and I will send your name to Santa as NOT NICE!

As I suspected, several of you are naughty boys, I hope Santa left you lumps of coal! For the rest of you, here's Part two. Let me know if you want a Part Three!


Stocking Stuffer Part 2 – Visions of Sugar Plums

I joined Stevie quickly and as I set the chocolate down he crawled into my lap and resumed the cuddle he had shared so peacefully earlier. A few minutes later he wiggled around and looking up at me, he quietly asked, "Nick, my toes are cold, do you have something I can put on them? I think my shoes are still wet."

"I don't think so babe, all my socks are stupid old men nylon things, not very warm and I've never had any slippers."

"Oh," he shivered.

Just then I hugged him closer and glanced across the room at the fireplace. It hit my like a lightening bolt. Of course, that was why I had still had them too.

Scooting him off my lap, I laughed, "Come here sweetie, I do have the perfect thing." As I lead him to the fireplace his eyes were glowing and when I took the stockings that said Mom and Dad down and softly lifted his feet and put them on him, I thought he was going to cry.

He asked me, "Why do you have a stocking for me?" pointing at the my sister's embroidered with Stephy across the top.

"Sweetheart, that's one from when I was little, but maybe the stockings left hanging for Nicky and Stephy will let Santa know that your gifts should be left here with mine when he visits." Carrying him back to the recliner and settling in again, I whispered, "You're the best stocking stuffer I could hope for Santa to bring."

"I think Santa already left me the best present," he beamed. "YOU!" he sniffled as he tried to crush me in another hug.

We settled back into our cuddle and my poor imp was so exhausted from his frozen ordeal that he quickly dropped back to sleep. I sipped my hot chocolate and marveled at how wonderful my Christmas Eve was with Stevie in my lap.

When I awoke I first glanced down at my sweetie's mop of hair and then saw he was already awake. Next I saw he had my touchpad in his lap and glancing at the computer screen I saw he was near the end of the story as I had left it up and on the screen.

Squeezing him a little and hugging him I said, "Hey babe, I don't think you should read that."

"Why, it's way kewl!" he smiled up at me. "I've read lot's of stories on Nifty and I always dreamed some man would find and love me. Now I find out one of my favorite authors is you! And," he quietly added, " maybe you're my savior too?"

"Oh, babe," I sighed and hugged him close. "Where did you learn about the Nifty stories?"

"One of my mom's boyfriends showed me on his laptop once," he said and then he blushed furiously all the way down to his cute little belly button. "You don't hate me now, do you?" he asked pleadingly, but barely daring to look at me.

"I could never hate you sweetheart, I've always loved when you helped me in the yard and garden. I love to watch you play ball with your friends, and I especially love how you fill up my stockings!" Giving him a little tickle, I said, " I guess I didn't know it until today, but I do love you. There's nothing you could say to make that change."

"I knew I'd find you," he sighed, "I just didn't know it was YOU!"

"Sweetie, I hope my story hasn't scared you." I cautiously broached as I nodded towards the screen.

"No way, I know all about that stuff. Like I said, I can't wear clothes at home because Mom says I wear them out too fast. Plus some of Mom's boyfriends liked looking at me and touching me and they would give her more money. Mom has let some of her boyfriends suck me and last year she started making them pay her lots if I sucked them. I didn't like it, but she was always nice to me when they left. Sometimes she'd buy me things and sometimes they would, too. The one who showed me the stories liked me to sit on his lap and he would fiddle with me while I used his computer. He was real smart about that stuff and showed me how to surf the web anonymously, so now I know how to read these stories at school and at the library. He was weird though, he'd want to suck me while he fucked my Mom. It was sometimes real messy! Yuck! I've read all your stories and I feel so good when everybody hugs and cuddles. There are some other stories that are scary, but I tried to dream just about the nice ones and finding my man to love me."

"Honey, I'm so sorry. If I'd known those things were happening, I'd have helped you a long time ago."

"It's okay," he grinned up at me. "I've learned lots of neat stuff and there was only one guy who hit me and tried to get mom to let him fuck me. Mom smacked him with a frying pan while he was trying to hold me on the bed and we dragged him outside. When he woke up he just drove away real fast. Mom never let him come back. I was getting worried, though, that one of them would hurt us someday. No matter how nice they were, none of them seemed like they wanted to love me. I was really worried that nobody was out there who could love me," he began sniffling again and I could see the tears forming in his eyes.

Pulling him to me, I rocked him and shushed him. "Quiet little one, nobody will ever hurt you now."

"Oh, Nick," he purred, "I feel so safe."

"Mom's last boyfriend was real scary. He yelled at her that he didn't ever want to see me when he was there. 'No little faggot boy was going to be around him.' he yelled and Mom would always tell me to go to my room when he came over. I knew he did drugs too, and sometimes when he left Mom would be stoned or something and not get up all day. That was really weird. Then last Friday I came home from school and got out of my clothes and went to the refrigerator to get a drink. There was a note from Mom telling me to be good and she would see me soon. She'd gone for a day or too before, so I wasn't really worried, but now it's Tuesday and she isn't back and I was out of food and I was so scared....."

Stevie broke completely down during this data dump. I had a mass of sobbing, crying boy in my lap and it was all I could do to rock him and comfort him when I just wanted to get up, go out and find his mother and shake her to within an inch of her life!

I couldn't believe my little angel had been routinely sucked and had to suck cock for money, almost fucked and then beaten up and finally, abandoned and starving, had nearly frozen to death trying to earn some money to get food. I think this was more than I had ever imagined for my fictional waifs, and Stevie was living right next door and doing my lawn the whole time. I couldn't believe I had been so blind.

Then I realized I was being a real hypocrite, because the entire time he had been in my tub and then in my lap, my dick had been leaking like a spigot; drooling with its own thoughts of caressing and being caressed by this same waif. I was ashamed of myself.

Rocking and muttering sweet nothings into his hair, I vowed I would protect him always and try and do the right things for him like one of my storyland heroes.

As he calmed down, he sucked one thumb into his mouth and used his other hand to alternately hug and rub my chest as we rocked. Getting control of his emotions, he wiggled loose and with the changeable magic of a young boy, he grinned and slid from my lap trailing the blanket for a step or two before he giggled that he had to pee and dashed for the bathroom. Leaving me alone with just the blanket on the floor and a quick little flash as he turned the corner, I knew I loved him dearly.

Coming back into the room, he bent to pick up the blanket and before wrapping himself up he looked at me and blanched.

"I had to pee real bad. Did I do that before I could get up?" he said pointing at my lap.

Looking down, it was my turn to blush as I saw he was pointing at the big, obvious, wet spot in my crotch. "No I don't think you directly did that," I replied.

"Oh, good" he answered, then as he heard what I had said, a bigger "Oh, Kewl!" came out. His inflection matched the mischievous grin on his face and he continued, "Looks like I have found my man, every part of him!" and he hopped into my lap this time using the blanket around his side and draping it over me too, so he was naked as could be in my lap.

"Stevie, I'd never hurt you like those other men," I said as I tried to push him back and regain some shadow of decorum.

"I know," he beamed, "In my dreams we always touched with love and pleasure. I know you couldn't hurt me. Now, let me finish reading your story."

What could I say to this beautiful, sexy, little imp in my lap? Nothing! So of course, I blurted out, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, silly, I'm sure. Now let me read, this was just getting to the best part!"

I sat there and watched as he began reading and felt him wiggle around on my lap as the story got hotter. I couldn't tell if he was avoiding my wet spot and hard cock under the sweats, or trying to get closer. Then he took my doubts away.

Moving the blanket away, he grabbed my right hand and placed it right on top of his steely little pole. "It felt so good when you dried me, would you rub it again?" he asked looking pleadingly up at me.

"I don't know, honey. I don't want to treat you like those other men."

Out of the mouths of babes! "Oh, that was just sex! This is love. I know you could never hurt me, You'd just do things to make me feel good and I'd feel good doing things for you too." As he finished this sage advice, he slid a hand down my stomach and under the waist band of my sweats and grabbed my pole and squeezed and rubbed it gently.

"Please?????" he pleaded.

How could I refuse? I began to slowly stroke his little pole and as he squeezed my cock, he began humming his little tune again and snuggled even closer.

Stroking slowly, I was awed by how steely his dick was and how soft and velvety the little head felt as my thumb rubbed across it. I let my other fingers slowly caress his little sack and felt the tiny balls tighten back up against his body . Suddenly, his hips thrust hard into my hand and he grunted his pleasure as another dry orgasm wracked his body.

"Ohhhhhh," he cooed. "Nobody ever made me feel like that when they touched me, and it happened both times you rubbed me. Is that what you mean when your story boys have an orgasm?"

"Yes, sweetie, for boys I thinks that's exactly what I mean. I don't know though, you are the first boy I've ever held."

"Really, I'm your first boy?" he asked through the glow of his pleasure.

"Yes, and you're my only boy." I whispered.

"Kewl!" he said and closed his eyes back to sleep, one hand still holding my own throbbing dick.

Gently lifting his hand out of my pants, I wrapped him back in the bears and put him in the chair while I closed my story and turned off my computer. Then I went to the fireplace and put out the gas. "Okay Santa," I said, "What can we find around here for our little stocking stuffer!"

I cast around the house finding enough fruit and candy and some leftover airline peanuts that I filled the two remaining stockings. Then I tried to think of what I might have as an appropriate gift for my new little angel. Then I remembered the package from my publisher last week.

In addition to my "fun" stories for Nifty, I also wrote a series of preteen adventure stories, kind of like a modern day Hardy Boys series. My publisher had my last book assigned to a new editor. We had gotten along all right, but he was so young. He told me he thought I needed to update my knowledge of my audience and that maybe I needed to find out about electronic games.

"Humphh," I had snorted. "I grew up on Pong! What more could I learn!" He just rolled his eyes and told me he'd send me some research materials.

Last week a box had arrived and upon opening it, I found something called a GameBoy Advance, a bunch of blister packed accessories, cords and a box marked GameCube. Also, some baby CD's with pictures of fantastical animals and car chase scenes on the cover. I couldn't figure out how to plug the stuff up, so I had shoved it in the closet for a less idiot prone moment. Maybe that would do, I thought.

Finding the box, I had a ball wrapping each individual item and placing them under the stockings. I found I was humming a little song as I addressed the tags: To Stephy for Santa! This was real fun!

Finishing and surveying my work, I was pleased with how it all looked. Looking at my angel asleep in the chair, I decided this was probably going to be my best Christmas ever.

Lifting Stevie, blanket and all, I took him to the bedroom and more or less unrolled him into the waterbed. Tuck the covers under his chin, I made my visit to the bathroom and undressed, crawling into the bed from the other side. As if he felt my presence, my sleeping little angel scooted over and draped himself across my body, cheek resting on my chest and right arm and leg stretched across me in a gentle hug.

"I love you," I whispered, as I kissed the top of his head.

"Umphhh," was the only reply, but it was more than enough.

"Merry Christmas!" I thought, as I, too, went to dream land.