Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2007 22:51:42 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Adams Subject: Temptation of Adam - Chapter 5 Disclaimer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content between underage and adult males which may be inappropriate or illegal where you live. I do not condone the actions or choices of the fictional characters contained within this story. If you are offended by this or if it is illegal where you live, please go no further. Why would you? Let's take this up a notch, shall we? ...From the last chapter... Ana's eyes were moist now as she spoke. "My husband died when Adam was barely one year old. He was killed by a drunk driver." "I'm sorry for your loss," I said sincerely. "Thank you, Mark. I'm sorry, too. But don't spend your life sorry. That's not living." She was quiet for a moment for saying "You remind me very much of James." "I'm flattered," I said, and I was. And honored. She paused to collect her thoughts. "Mark, I need rest now," she said. "Thank you for this talk. I'm sorry I teased you so." She stood up, hunched over. "Go now. Find Adam." Temptation of Adam - Chapter 5 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I found Adam outside, sitting on the curb next to my car. When he saw me approaching, he jumped up and ran up to me, giving me a full body hug. I lifted him up into my arms and he wrapped his legs around my waist. "I thought you two were going to take forever!" he admonished. "Can I come back in now?" "You bet," I said, restraining myself from correcting him. "Come on, let's go inside and get your clothes. He seemed relieved and excited that things had gone well with his mother. I shifted him so I could hold him with my left arm, supporting him on my hip. He was so light, it took no effort at all. In fact, he seemed to belong there. "What did you two talk about?" Adam asked as we turned and headed back to his house. "Oh, this and that," I said coyly and he playfully punched me in my arm. "Ouch," I complained, rubbing the spot where he tapped me. "Baby," he said jokingly, and I made a little crying sound. He laughed and I did, too. "Let's get your clothes," I said as we began walking back to his apartment. "It's a little late, though, isn't it?" he asked. "She'll want me to have some dinner soon." "Ok. if you don't want to go out to dinner with me, I guess I could come get you tomorrow," I teased. He looked at me with disbelief. "Oh," he said, a little surprised, "are you inviting me to dinner?" "Absolutely," I replied. " But only if you want to." "It's a date," he said. And I liked his choice of words. "But I don't have anything to wear, Mark," he said ruefully. We paused at his front door. "I was thinking we could swing by Target and get you a few clothes." His eyes were like saucers. "It's not quite dinner time yet, so you can get washed up and wear a set of the new clothes." "Oh! I've never gotten anything at Target," he exclaimed and I laughed out loud before realizing he was serious. He frowned a bit at me, and I said "I'm so sorry, Adam! I thought you were kidding, buddy." It's amazing how much I take for granted sometimes. "It's ok, Mark." His frown faded and became a smile. "I guess I'm the baby." He imitated my crying from a few minutes ago. I laughed then and set him down on the ground. As with most kids, he hung on like he had no intention of being set down but eventually moved his legs off my hips. It had probably been awhile since Ana had been able to carry him. He opened the door and went in. I followed him in and closed the door behind me. "Am I going to stay the night at your house tonight?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as we entered his bedroom. "Do you want to?" I asked. I didn't really think about it, and I wasn't sure his mother would approve. "Oh, yes!" he chirped. "Can I?" "You can and you may, if it's ok with your mother," I answered, and he screwed up his face at me. "It's a joke," I told him. "You're supposed to say *may* I." He just rolled his eyes and headed to his mother's room. While he checked with Ana, I surveyed his room. I noticed it was pretty neat for a boy so young. He had a few posters on his wall. A Lamborghini, a Ferrari, and a Corvette (mainstays of the American Boy). He had Star Wars 'Return of the Jedi' sheets on his neatly made bed which I thought was just as cute as can be. From under his pillow, I saw the legs of some sort of stuffed animal and, curious, I lifted the pillow to see a well-loved stuffed monkey. He seemed even younger to me now... I turned toward his desk and saw a couple school books and some construction paper, scissors, and glue on an old desk. It looked like he'd been working on some sort of art project or something. As he entered the room, he was positively beaming and I knew the answer. "I can... I mean I may stay the night." I chuckled. "That's taking it a bit far," I said as I moved toward him, ruffling his hair. So his mother approved of his spending the night at the house of a grown man she had just met that day. Maybe it was brain cancer, I thought, and immediately chastised myself. Mine is not to reason why, it is said... "This is so cool," he said, while he went about dumping his school stuff out of his knapsack onto his desk, putting a few things in for the overnight. He moved over to his bed a turned his back to me, as if sneaking something from his bed. After zipping up, and turning around, I noticed there were no more monkey legs sticking out from under his pillow. I wondered if this child had any idea what I felt for him. Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly... I was just full of cliches today. He went to his closet and pulled out his laundry basket. It was only about half full and, remembering he had no more clean clothes, I figured those were all he owned. I reached out to take it from him, and he let me take it, but pulled a dirty shirt up to cover some Mickey Mouse children's underwear. I grinned at him and he blushed. "Let's go," he said, a little flustered, and we told his mother goodbye as we left his room. *** When we entered the nearby Target, Adam looked like a kid in a candy store. I wondered if he had even been in a Target before. I got a cart and he moved up to push it, smiling like a goofy kid. We found the boys' section and started looking around. "See anything you like?" I asked. "Everything," he gushed. He started looking through some of the printed tee shirts and picked a light blue shirt off the rack. "How about this?" He asked. "Looks nice," I said. "Brings out your eyes." He looked back at the shirt and nodded, but I'm not sure he really knew what I meant. Then he scrunched his face up a bit and I noticed he was looking at the tag. "Something wrong?" "It's too expensive, Mark," he said sadly. I looked at the price tag. It was only six bucks. "Adam," I began, "I don't want you looking at any of the price tags. Ok?" "Why not?" he asked, looking a tad puzzled. "Because you're not buying it. I am," I said firmly. "If I couldn't afford to buy you clothes, I wouldn't have offered." He didn't fully buy it. "Besides," I added, "it's rude to ask someone how much a gift costs." His eyes showed understanding, and he turned the tag away from him, as if now he wouldn't know how much it cost. Kids... "Ok, Mark. But I don't want to spend too much of your money." "Let me worry about that," I told him. "Keep looking." He picked out a couple shirts at my insistence. We moved to the pants. "What size do you wear?" I asked him. "Uh, I don't know," he said, looking a bit concerned. "Turn around," I said, and he did. I reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled the elastic band out a little to see if there was a tag. As I did, I saw the red waistband of his little underwear. Not seeing a tag on the jeans, I reached in and pulled his underwear up and out to see if there was a tag, and I saw the top of his crack. I started getting a little chubby 'downstairs' so after seeing the '8-10' size I asked if his underwear fit him well. He blushed. "Yeah," is all he said. "Did I embarrass you?" I asked him, and he shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Did you see my... butt?" he inquired. Busted! "Not really," I said and he wrinkled his brow at me. "Well, just the top, " I corrected myself. A playful smile came across his face. I gently swatted his butt. "Ok, I got your underwear size, but I didn't see a tag on your jeans. Let's just have you try some on." We got a couple pair of different sized jeans and some shorts and took them to the fitting rooms. The lady at the desk looked at me accusingly and I wondered if she was thinking I was some sort of child molester. Adam pulled the jeans and a shirt from the cart and handed them to the lady." Are you going in with your son?" she asked. I realized she was probably just concerned, like I was, with his tattered clothes. I was about to say no. "Yeah," Adam said. "Come on, Dad," he said and reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me after him. Gulp... We entered the stall at the back of the area and went in, Adam closing the door behind us. It must have been a handicap accessible stall because it seemed pretty big to me. His shyness now gone, it seems, Adam pulled his tee shirt off and threw it on the bench. I tried to avert my stare-- I really did. But I could take my eyes off my precious Adam. His wiry frame suited him to a tee. His skin was beautifully tanned, owing to the Latino side of his family no doubt. Without putting on another shirt, he tilted his head down, reached down to his pants, and popped the button on his jeans and unzipped them. He stood there for a second, as if deciding what he should do, and then reached into the waistband of the tight fitting jeans and shimmied out of them, kicking them off his feet. There before me was a boy, my boy, in nothing but his undies. And he was definitely a boy... The underwear hung low on his tummy, the bottom edge of the waistband resting atop his little beanstalk. It looked a long, long way from his belly button to the top of his drawers. On the front, right on top of his little boy bulge, was Spiderman on a dingy white background, slinging a web on my boy's fly. Spidey was poked out a bit by Adam's package, and I figured he was a little better endowed than I would have thought, given his small stature. He wasn't erect, or at least I didn't think so, but rather than hanging down, or sticking up, his penis was making a little tent behind the webslinger's groin-- a child underwear designer's joke, I guess. I, on the other hand, was not flaccid. I could feel blood pumping into my penis, my shaft beginning to lengthen down my pant leg. I started getting a little claustrophobic and out of breath, so I sat down on the bench, crossing my legs. Adam was smiling, but I wasn't sure he noticed my predicament. Even so, he turned toward me and pulled up a bit on the waistband of his underwear, making his bulge a little more prominent. I caught sight of myself in the mirror behind him and I saw... lust. Depraved lust. "Adam," I croaked, "quit goofing around. Try on a pair of the pants... please." He giggled a little and let go of his undies. He turned and bent over to pick up a pair of jeans and before me was the most perfectly shaped ass I have ever seen. No man, no woman could compare. In my mind I reached out and cupped his buttocks in my hand. Stop! I had to will myself to stop. This was going to be much harder than I thought. Adam, was slipping on a pair of jeans and I could tell they were going to be a tight fit. As he pulled them up to his hips, they pressed his boy bulge out obscenely in the cleft of the fly, accentuating the object of my desire. He started trying to push his goodies into the jeans when I told him "Those... they're too small, Adam." "I was thinking they were," he said as he began taking them off. He tried on another, larger pair and they fit nicely. Just a little gap along the top edge of the jeans. I reached out, naturally, and tugged on them a bit as my mother would do when I was trying on jeans, not really knowing what I was supposed to be checking, but checking out the tiny strip of red from his briefs. "Perfect," I said, "let's get them. "Should I leave 'em on?" He asked. "Yeah," I exhaled, "just leave them on. Try on the shirt." He tried on the light blue shirt, the one that had first caught his eye, and I was right. It made his powder blue eyes look almost electric and showed off his natural tan to perfection. "Perfect," I said again. "Ok, let's get the tags off the stuff you're wearing so they can check us out. But first, let's get you some socks, shoes, and underwear." Saving the best for last, I guess? "Cool!" he said. Then he paused, thinking. "Do I need to try on the underwear?" "No Definitely not," I said vehemently. "You aren't allowed to until they're paid for," I added. *** After we'd purchased his clothes, along with two pairs of shoes and 5 three-packs of 'fashion' underwear of every kind (I guess I had a new fetish), Adam insisted we go to the restroom at the front of the store to change into a pair of the new underwear. As he exited the stall, he threw his old underwear in the shopping bag and I took the bag. As we left the store, I threw his old jeans, shirt, and old shoes into the trash bin outside and then headed for my car. When he wasn't looking, I slipped the dirty underwear in my pocket. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ To be continued... ------------------------------------------------------------------------