Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2012 06:10:29 -0800 (PST) From: David Copperfield Subject: Teddy As a graduate student I earned my room and board by acting as a live-in helper in a family home near the university. I slept in a small bedroom off the kitchen. There were three boys ranging in age from 6 to 12 but I never really made friends with any of them. I just went to class, came home and helped out with whatever I was asked to and lived a generally isolated life. One weekend the parents held a party to which a dozen or so relatives and friends were invited. They used my bedroom as a coatroom: guests would toss their coats on my unoccupied bed for later retrieval. I circulated among the guests serving canapes and drinks. My eye was caught by the youngest guest, a cute little 8-year-old redhead, a nephew of my landlord's. After an hour or so he grew tired so his parents asked to put him in my bed and I agreed. Half an hour later I needed to get something from my room (I forget what). When I opened the door I found the light on, the bed strewed with coats everywhere except on top of little Teddy. I saw at a glance that his hands, or at least one of them, were making a little bulge in his crotch. Not wanting anyone else to see what I had, I took a coat and draped it over his lower body. Then without saying anything I turned the light off and left the room. Now, I thought, he can have his fun and no one be the wiser. I stayed at the party for about an hour (counting the time I took to drive one family to their home and return). Then I felt tired and asked to be excused. Surely, I thought, Teddy will have finished his play and be asleep by now. But as I climbed into the bed I couldn't help lightly brushing his briefs. To my surprise I found his little penis standing to attention. Intrigued, I stroked him lightly through the cloth. He's been playing with it for more than an hour and hasn't reached a climax, I thought. Could it be he hasn't learned how? I continued gently stroking. He didn't say a word. I slowly slipped my hand into his pants and touched his tiny but turgid organ. He didn't say a word. After a few minutes I asked him whether he wanted me to stop. "I don't know," he said softly. As a rule I am not very good at 'reading between the lines' but I knew at once what he meant: "I know this is very naughty, I know I shouldn't let him do this...but oh! It feels so good!" So I kept on stroking him. After a few minutes I asked him again and got the same answer. But then he told me he had to pee. I had heard that many first-timers misinterpreted their rising excitement as the consequence of a full bladder and continued my ministrations but Teddy insisted so I let him go and he ran off to the bathroom. Apparently he was correct because on his return he was soft again. I wondered whether I should leave it there but just to make sure I touched him again and he stiffened up at once so I resumed. I asked again and again he wasn't sure. Then on an impulse I reached into my own pants and swiped up a glob of the smooth juice I had been leaking as my excitement built. I stroked him with my moistened hand for a few minutes and asked the question again: "Do you want me to stop?" "NO!" He exclaimed. I continued. A few minutes later he whispered politely but urgently: "Do it faster, please." I complied. I was careful to keep from squeezing him as I stroked him to what soon became a powerful climax. He shuddered as he came -- and then began to cry. What was wrong? Had I violated some stricture? Would he feel dirty or guilty or would he feel those things about me? It turned out he was a bit sore, presumably because I had waited too long to use the lubrication. By the time his parents called him to get up for the journey home he was fully recovered. I often wondered whether he had learned enough from our experience to be able to get there on his own but alas I never had the chance to ask him.