From: Boy-writer Subject: Story "Tempting the Uncle" M/b/b cons. Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 09:59:14 -0800 Organization: The Bear's Den As always the usual warnings and disclaimers apply to this story which contains graphic nudity and sexual activity between an adult male and minor males. If this type of story is illegal to possess a copy of, or if you are offended by this type of material or you are under the legal age in your locale, close this file IMEDIATELY! Do not download or read. I am not the author of this story, a friend of mine who wishes to remain anonomous sent it to me to read and post in this newsgroup. Happy reading! Tempting the Babysitter ----------------------- 12-year old Lance looked into 11-year-old Charlie's eyes. He spoke quietly so he would not be heard by the man down the hall. "I heard my mom and dad before they left. Mom didn't want Uncle Tom to sit for us this weekend. You know why?" "Why?" Charlie asked, mildly bored, mildly interested. "She says he's 'too old to be a bachelor.' Know what that means?" Lance asked excitedly. "No, what?" "He's *gay*, that's what. Mom thinks Uncle Tom is gay, and I bet he is, too." Charlie was taken aback. "You mean he ... she didn't want him to be with you because he ...." "... because he likes boys," Lance said, grinning ear to ear, with an exaggerated lisp, flipping his wrist. Charlie got the joke. "Uncle Tom is a fag ...," he started, then started laughing - too loud. Lance went up to him quickly and put his hand over Charlie's mouth. "Shhhh ... he'll hear you," Lance said in an urgent whisper. Charlie shut up. Lance went on. "He thinks he's so cool, that nobody knows. Why don't we find out how cool he is?" "How?" Charlie asked. His new friend was only a year older, but Charlie was still amazed at the things Lance thought of. This was their first sleepover. Lance's great-grandmother had finally died after being left unable to speak by a stroke before he was born. He never knew her and didn't care about her - but his parents were out of town for the funeral, and he was going to have some fun. "What do you mean, how?" He saw that Charlie didn't understand. Charlie never seemed to understand anything, but he looked up to Lance like Lance was a god, and the older boy liked that. Charlie wasn't the first younger friend he'd had - for the same reason. "Look, he thinks he's cool, that nobody knows he's gay. So why don't we give him something to look at? Let's see how cool he is." Charlie still had a blank expression, god the kid was slow. "Why do you think he volunteered so fast to babysit me? He likes to look at boys' butts." Charlie's eyes opened wide. "He wants to look at *our* butts?" "Right," Lance said, "but he acts like it's nothing. I bet we can get him so hot he'll come in his pants. He'll probably give us money to take our clothes off - or beer, or women, or anything." "Wow," Charlie said. Neither boy knew anything about women or had drunk a beer, but the money sounded good. "How much money?" "Who knows? Maybe 10, maybe even 20 dollars." To Lance, that seemed like a lot of money; his parents were quite poor, as were Charlie's, and they got by in a small town on $2-3 a week allowance. "Let's do it," said Charlie, happy to be in on another of his friend's schemes. They shook on it. The boys came back into the living room after a long absence. Tom didn't think anything of it; perhaps they were playing video games in Lance's room. Charlie seemed to be swinging his hips, and both boys were looking at him as they came into the room, but he didn't know kids very well and didn't think much of it. He turned back to the old Western on AMC. "It's 8 o'clock," Lance said, as if that should mean something. His parents hadn't said anything about 8'clock. Tom was a bit taken aback. "Is something important supposed to happen at 8 o'clock?" he asked, trying to make it seem like a joke. Lance glowered at him, then smirked. "We're supposed to take our baths." "Oh, well, whatever you normally do," Tom said nonchalantly. In fact, Lance had been right about Tom. He did have urges, but he kept them well in check. Nevertheless, the thought of two naked boys, *these* two, started to arouse him. He kept it under control. Tom turned back to his movie. Lance was angry, but he kept that to himself too. He and Charlie walked out of the room. Soon Tom heard water running in the upstairs bathroom. The door was evidently open. "Tom!" Lance's voice rang out. "Tom!" Tom opened his mouth to shout an answer, then decided that something might be wrong and he should go up. The bathroom door was open, and Lance was sitting in the tub alone, and he had used bubble bath, so little could be seen except for the boy's marvellous chest. "I can't reach my back," he said, "can you wash it for me?" He held out the soap. Tom seemed to hesitate, so Lance lied: "Mom does it when she's here." Still the man hesitated. "Please?" the boy said. Tom was starting to get a hard on, and that *must not* happen. Sure, he liked looking at the kid, but that was all he was going to do. And he didn't want to have to explain anything *down there*. But the kid was looking at him, and he was getting harder and harder, looking at the soft shoulders, the hairless knees sticking up out of the water, the smooth face .... This had to stop, and there seemed to be only one way to stop it. "OK," he said. Tom took the soap from the boy's hand, got his hands wet, and worked up a lather. He quickly soaped up Lance's back, trying to be clinical about it. "There," he said, trying to smile. "Now rinse me off," said Lance, with what looked like, but could not be, a coy smile. "Just slide down in the tub," Tom said, too gruffly he belatedly thought, and walked off. He went back downstairs to watch his movie. The bad guys were caught, as expected. He tried to forget what he had just seen and felt. "Tom!" a voice rang out sometime later. It wasn't Lance, so it had to be Charlie, though the younger boy had hardly said a word in Tom's presence since he came over. Once again the man trod up the stairs, craning his neck to see as the bad guys escaped during an Indian attack. This time the door was closed. "What do you want?" Tom shouted through the door. "I need a towel," Charlie replied. "Where are they?" the man shouted back. "In the linen closet, I think," the boy answered. The linen closet, where was that? Tom looked around. He found it down the hall and got out a big green towel. He came back to the door. "I'm going to open the door and put it on the counter, OK?" he asked. "Don't come in, I'm naked," came the reply. There seemed to be a giggle. "I'm just putting it here on the counter," Tom replied. He opened the door a crack and did so. He went back downstairs. The Indians, who as usual couldn't shoot straight, had been routed, and the hero was kicking over corpses of braves. One belonged to a boy of about 13 or 14. The hero shook his head at the savagery of these people. The bad guys had gotten away during the fight, however. "Tom!" Lance called out again. Jeez, I might as well give up on this movie, he thought, trying to pretend his irritation was due to the interruptions. He looked in the bathroom, but it was empty (though a mess). "Tom!" the boy called again, and Tom realized it was coming from the boy's room. The two boys were standing there in bath towels. "We don't have any pajamas," Lance said, with a serious look on his face. Charlie covered his mouth. "Well, what do you normally wear?" Tom said stupidly, trying to concentrate on the angelic faces so that his attention would not wander elsewhere. "That's what I normally wear," Lance said. "Didn't you bring any?" the man asked Charlie. "I forgot mine, I was going to wear his," Charlie replied. "Mom must have forgot to do laundry before she left," Lance said. Tom rolled his eyes. "Well, put some clean underwear on, then. I'll wash clothes tomorrow." He turned around and started to go back downstairs, then quickly turned and went into the bathroom. He closed the door, then ran cold water over his face. He wasn't up to this job at all. Tom picked up the towels on the floor and put them in the hamper, which was indeed full. He took a piss, swearing under his breath when his cock would not at first soften enough. As he went back downstairs, he heard the boys talking in hushed tones. Charlie giggled. The hero had sneaked up on the bad guys, who, sure enough, were delivering a box of rifles to the savages. Tom settled back into the movie, trying to figure out what was going on. The two boys came downstairs shortly. Lance wore a plain white T-shirt and an old pair of briefs that were at least two sizes too small for him. Charlie had on a red muscle shirt and a new pair of briefs that were too big for him and seemed to be constantly on the verge of falling off. Lance brought a blanket, which they spread on the floor, seeming to take exceeding care in getting the wrinkles out. Tom was getting quite a show as the scantily-clad boys crawled around on their hands and knees in front of him. He watched in spite of himself. Charlie looked over and caught him at it, then smiled and whispered to Lance. The older boy did not smile; he glanced at Tom and whispered seriously to the younger boy. Eventually the blanket was more-or-less straight. Lance laid on his stomach. Charlie sat up on his heels, his too-large briefs falling down in back and exposing a bit of crack. The phrase, "Smooth as a baby's butt," popped involuntarily into Tom's mind. Charlie laid down on his stomach next to Lance, pulling up his shorts so that they rode up into his crack. The two boys seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to get settled, and Tom could not take his eyes off them. Charlie in particular seemed to wiggle his butt more than was strictly necessary. Lance turned to Tom. "Can I have a pillow?" he asked. "Me too," Charlie said. Tom took a couch pillow and handed one to each boy. Lance glanced at Tom's crotch, evidently noticing the growing bulge there, but said nothing. The boys put the pillows under their chins, again taking a long time to get situated. Lance whispered to Charlie, who reached back and rearranged his shorts. "Hey! Do you guys want some popcorn?" Tom asked, trying to lighten the mood, which had seemed to become uncomfortably cloudy. "I'm not hungry," Lance replied. "Me neither," Charlie said. "Well, *I* am," Tom answered brightly and went off to the kitchen. At least, he hoped it was "brightly." He had to get out of there. As he made the popcorn, he mused. Those kids seemed to be showing off for him, but that couldn't be so. He didn't know what to think. His cock began to go down - keep it under control, guy, he said to himself. Tom came back in carrying the bowl of popcorn and almost dropped it. The boys had taken off their shirts, and Charlie was on top of Lance, rubbing his back. As before, the younger boy's shorts were falling down in back, affording a glorious view. Tom resumed his seat on the couch. The movie had ended, of course, and the boys had evidently selected some 3-hanky TV movie (the TV Guide and remote were sitting in front of Lance). He wondered at that, but shrugged it off. With some difficulty, Tom held out the popcorn to the boys, whose motions were reminiscent, not of an innocent backrub, but of another activity. "You want some?" he asked. Lance just smirked and shook his head. He spread his legs a little more. "No, thanks," Charlie said, and giggled, continuing to rub Lance. Tom tried to concentrate on the movie but found himself looking repeatedly at the show on the floor. Lance caught him at it and looked directly at the man's crotch, smiling. Tom realized he was hard as a rock. He grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the sofa and hurriedly spread it over himself, trying to appear nonchalant. He looked back at the movie. The movie the boys picked did not help take his mind off other matters. It turned out to be an old TV movie about a boy who was dying of cancer. The boy's parents cried a lot (the doctor even cried once), and half the shots seemed to show the kid in his short little hospital gown. Every glance at the boy-actor's hairless legs seemed to draw Tom's eyes back to the show on the floor, which eventually ended with Charlie lying next to Lance, the younger boy's arm across the older one's back. "I'm cold," Charlie said suddenly. "So am I," Lance said. Tom was about to suggest that they fold the blanket they were lying on over themselves when they crawled under the blanket with him. Each boy took one of the man's arms and put it around his shoulders. Tom tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on the movie. "You like us?" Lance asked with a smirk. "Sure I do," Tom answered, smiling as he squeezed both boys. Lance reached under the blanket and grabbed Tom's hardon through his pants. "Feels like you do," he said, grinning. Tom did not know what to say; he was mortified and excited at the same time. Charlie's hand joined Lance's on Tom's cock. "Guess he likes boys," Charlie said, giggling. "Likes to look at boy's butts." He laughed again. "Guess so," Lance said, turning off the remote. "You like looking at us in our underwear, don't you, Uncle Tom?" The boy started moving his hand slowly up and down, causing a stain of precum to spread slowly around the head of Tom's engorged cock. "Would you like to see us without our underwear?" Charlie asked. "Tell us," Lance said, "tell us what you want. Do you want to see Charlie's butt?" "Ummm," Tom uttered, unable to respond. Lance undid Tom's belt and opened his pants. The man jumped but couldn't - or didn't want to - stop him. "Do you want to see Charlie's butt? He has a cute one, don't you think?" "Yes," the man replied, no longer able to think of consequences. "What will you pay us?" Charlie asked. Lance took his hand away from Tom's cock and looked at him expectantly. "I, uh, twenty dollars," Tom stammered, staring at Lance. "Twenty apiece, right?" Lance said. "Yeah ..." Lance threw back the blanket and stood up, as did Charlie. Both boys pulled their shorts off. Tom stared at the two gorgeous butts before him. They looked over their shoulders at him. Charlie shook his rear suggestively. Tom pulled his own briefs down and stroked his cock. "What will you give us to turn around?" "Ten dollars ... apiece." Charlie turned around first. He had a short little boy-dick, his ball-sac not descended yet. Lance turned around to reveal a more well-developed cut dick and hanging balls. Both boys were completely hairless. Tom was stroking in earnest. He noticed that Lance was semi-hard himself. "Charlie's up too late," Lance said, feeling his power. "You better carry him up to bed; he looks tired." He laughed. Charlie looked at Lance angrily. "I'm going to settle up with Uncle Tom," he said to the younger boy, rubbing his fingers together in the gesture for "money." Tom started to zip up his pants, then thought better of it and took them off. He pulled his boxers up, however. He picked up Charlie, who seemed to be as light as a feather, feeling the hairless thigh and soft chest. Charlie had gotten a little hardon. Lance watched with interest. Tom put Charlie in bed, tucked him in, and kissed his forehead. To his surprise, Charlie kissed him back, on the cheek. Lance was waiting downstairs. He had put the t-shirt and briefs back on and was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, a broad smile on his face. "That's sixty dollars," he said. Tom took out his wallet, barely able to count out the money as he stared at the boy's gorgeous legs. He handed the cash to Lance. (Lucky it was a Friday night - most nights he wouldn't have been carrying that much.) Lance took the money and folded it up in his hand, wrapping his fist around it. "You can have another look for another ten," he said. "I don't have any more," Tom replied, almost truthfully. In fact, it was his personal rule never to be without at least $20 in his pocket, and the additional ten would put him below the mark. Twenty dollars was enough to get a cab if he was stranded or to buy whatever he might need on an emergency or whimsical basis. Not that Tom was poor; he was fairly well-paid as an air traffic controller. At any rate, the image from the previous display was burned into his mind. Tom thought, half-amused, that from now on the blips on his screen would appear as naked boys; he wondered whether any plane crashes would result. "Well, I'm going to bed, too," Lance answered with a smirk. "Nice doing business with you." On an odd impulse, Tom held out his hand. Lance was surprised but shook it, then walked out, resuming the smirk. Tom's eyes followed him as he went, wishing at the same time that he would stay and that he would get out so that Tom could masturbate, something he hadn't done in nearly five years. When the boy was gone, he sat down on the blanket and closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to drive out the images he had seen. When he gave up and opened them, he noticed that Charlie's underwear was lying on the floor. He picked up the briefs and smelled them. They had very little smell, mostly of clean laundry; underneath, however, was a slight smell, mostly soap, but with a hint of boy. He inhaled deeply. Tom pulled the front of his boxers down and put the briefs over his cock, which seemed to be so hard that it would shatter if touched, like a banana dipped in liquid nitrogen. He closed his eyes and thought of Charlie rubbing Lance's back, moving his little butt back and forth, Lance spreading his legs in contentment. He thought of Charlie pulling his briefs down - no, they fell off him - and Lance's little pecker, now hard, sliding into Charlie's cleft. He came so hard he had a cramp in his thigh. As he sat rubbing his thigh, Tom was suddenly visited with horrible dread. God, what am I going to do? he thought. I've kept this in check for my entire life, kept it entirely secret, in fact, but now these boys know the secret. My life will be ruined. Someday, maybe even tomorrow, they'll tell someone, maybe just another classmate, who will tell a teacher, who will tell Lance's parents, and that will be it. Tom couldn't bear it. He thought of killing himself - he knew there must be a gun in the house somewhere; Lance's father was an avid hunter. Then he thought of the boys finding his body the next day, his brains splattered over the living room wall. No, that would destroy them, especially Charlie, he thought. They don't deserve that - *I'm* the one who deserves to die, not them; they were just playing a game. He found the remote control on the floor and clicked through the channels, finding "Little Lord Fauntleroy" playing on A&E's late-night movie. In spite of himself, he stopped and watched. The boy's face kept morphing into Charlie's, then Lance's. He found himself crying at the end. I'm evil, he thought, as the movie ended. I need to get away from them as fast as possible. My car is in the driveway; I can just leave. But that was just it - he couldn't leave. Even in this town, where there hadn't been a crime, at least no serious crime, since 1922, 11- and 12-year-old boys couldn't be left alone. Tom remembered growing up in the town, remembered the time a group of boys had wandered into the abandoned mine outside of town and had had to be rescued. There were old wells, too, that had been covered over with time. He wondered then whether he was rationalizing. Someone else could watch them; he could claim to have fallen ill or something; maybe claim the government wanted him on an urgent errand (most of Tom's relatives only considered him as "working for the government" and thought it was much more exciting and dangerous than it actually was). But, no, Aunt Charlotte was getting on and couldn't get around much any more, and she lived in Tulsa, over 200 miles away. Tom resolved himself that he had to stay for the full week. In that time, he had to explain to the boys. Explain what? That there was nothing wrong with them, that he was to blame. But if they told, it would still be the town gossip for decades to come, and they would suffer by that, in spite of what he said. He hung his head in dejection. "Tom?" Charlie said. Tom looked up rapidly, as if he had been shocked. Charlie was standing at the base of the stairs, naked as the day he was born, and just as unconcerned. Tom was glad he'd pulled his boxers back up after jacking off, but he was still pantsless. "What is it?" he asked, with kindness - and guilt. "I had a bad dream," Charlie lied, convincingly. "Well, we all have bad dreams, just remember it's only a dream," Tom said. To his surprise, he didn't get hard, though he was taking mental notes - the masturbation had helped. He quickly kicked Charlie's cum-soaked briefs under the sofa. "You should get back to bed," he added. "There was a monster in it," the boy said, less convincingly. Charlie was too old to believe in monsters under the bed. Tom laughed, and the laughter seemed forced, as indeed it was. "There are no monsters in this house," he said, "and I'll take them on if there are any." He wondered about the monster bit, but remembered that Charlie had seemed shy and innocent, certainly in comparison to Lance. Some kids don't mature as rapidly as others. "Can I stay with you for a while?" the boy asked, sincerely this time. "Sure," Tom said, not knowing how he could refuse, and, truth be told, not really wanting to. The kid's eyes were melting his heart. Charlie smiled and ran over to Tom, sitting next to him on the sofa and pulling the blanket over them. Tom stood up a little to let it loose. The boy snuggled close under the blanket, and Tom put his arm around him protectively. Tom put on Nick at Nite, which seemed to be the best thing on at that time of night from a kid's point of view. He remembered reading something a while back about how the old sitcoms had all been geared to a 10-year-old mind. Charlie didn't seem to be paying any attention to the TV, though. "I like this," he said, secure in Tom's arms under the blanket. Tom's guilt came back in full force. "So do I," he said, giving the boy a squeeze, "but what we did before should only be done with certain people." "With people you like?" Charlie asked. "Yes," Tom answered, "um, that is, with some people you like." "I like you," the boy said, "you like me too, right?" "Yes, I like you a lot," Tom answered honestly, squeezing the boy again. God, this was difficult. "You mean, like, taking money for it?" Charlie asked. Tempting the Babysitter part 2 "Well, yes. When you are in love with somebody, you do things together, but if there's money involved, it's not love." "You can have the money back," the boy said earnestly. "I only did it because Lance wanted to. I mean, my half." "You can keep the money, Charlie," the man said, the name coming out with difficulty "- it's nice of you to offer to give it back though. The point I was making is that love is a lot more important than money, and even liking somebody is more important." "If you like me, does that mean I'm important to you?" Charlie asked. Tom couldn't resist - he kissed the top of the boy's head. "Yes, it does. Same as Lance and your other friends are important to you. But when you get older, you will have special friends," he carefully added, "probably girls - and with those special friends you do different things." "Like show them my butt," the boy stated. "Yes, like that. Only you wouldn't do it like you did. With your girlfriend - or your wife - you show your whole body to each other. It is a way of showing your love. And when a man and a woman get together that way, they can have kids, and the kids become part of their love." "I know what you mean!" Charlie said, and ran back up the stairs. Tom was wondering what could possibly be going on. Watching the boy's butt shake as he ran up the stairs, Tom started to get hard again, but it quickly subsided. Charlie came back almost instantly, making more noise than he should have, with Lance still asleep upstairs. He was carrying two magazines. Charlie got back under the blanket and snuggled back up like he had never been gone. On the TV, Mary Tyler Moore was arguing with Lou Grant about something, seeming to lose the argument yet winning it, as she always did. "Lance showed me these, I mean, he showed me this one," the boy said, holding out a copy of _Hustler_. "His dad looks at these all the time," he added, attempting to appear knowing. Oh my God, Tom thought, as he looked at the picture the boy was showing him. It was a woman on a bed on all fours, her wrists tied together. A well-endowed man was taking her from behind. She was on her hands and knees, and it was difficult to tell which orifice was being penetrated. Her mouth was curled in lust. Even in Podunk, Tom thought ruefully, remembering all the jibes he had received at the office for his small-town background. "He's not hurting her, is he?" Charlie asked. "No, he's not. They're just playing a game," Tom answered, regretting how he had phrased the reply but not knowing what else to say. "That's what Lance said," the boy answered matter-of-factly. "He said it was a fun game and wanted to play it with me but I said no." Tom was stupefied. "Well, that's right. You shouldn't play that game. It's only for people who are in love. For a man and a woman." "But if you are in love you can play that game?" "If you are in love you can, but you only do it with a person that is very important to you." "Boys can play that game, too, huh?" Tom was unable to reply. After a long pause, he said, "Some boys do things like that, but usually it is a man and a woman. That's how they make babies." "If boys do it, does it make babies?" "No, it doesn't." He added, "Boys don't usually do it, though. When they do, it is only like practice for when they get older." "In here, it shows boys doing it," Charlie said, holding up the other magazine, obviously yellowed and much older than the other one. The cover showed a man with his arms around two boys. All were clothed, but Tom did not doubt that on the inside pages they would not be. "Did Lance show you that?" Tom asked, curiosity winning out over sense. "No. He showed me where his dad's magazines were, and I found this one." Charlie, anxious to show his new discovery, didn't pause before opening the magazine. The picture showed the man kissing one of the boys. The man was fully clothed, but the boy was naked, sitting on the man's lap. "I wish I had a dad," he said, sighing. "My dad is dead," he added, matter-of-factly. Once again, Tom didn't know what to say. Charlie took care of it. He got up slightly, with the blanket still over him, and sat in Tom's lap, again arranging the blanket over them both. "He would love me like that," the boy added, pointing to the picture. "There's a lot more to being a dad than that," Tom started to say, but Charlie got up a little and kissed him on the cheek, then sat back down. "The other boys make fun of me 'cause my dad's dead," Charlie almost whispered. Obviously, it was a great revelation, or intended as one. "Is it because they get to practice with their dad and I don't?" "No, it's just because they're mean," Tom said. He was about to go on, when Charlie replied: "Yeah, their dads probably don't even love them. Like that," he said, opening the magazine to a picture that made Tom's jaw drop. It was almost exactly the same pose as the one in _Hustler_, but in this one, the boy took the place of the woman. True, his hands were not tied, but the pictures were otherwise identical. In this case, of course, there could be no doubt about the orifice. Tom got hard, and since his own boxers were the only thing between them, he knew that Charlie felt it. If so, the boy gave no sign. "Well," he ventured, "not all dads do that with their boys. In fact, probably most don't. It doesn't mean they don't love them." "Well, Lance's dad does," Charlie said. Tom was hornswoggled - no wonder Lance was such a horny little shit, with so little shame. "What does Lance say about it? Does he like it?" the man asked, his voice thick, his resolution of only a few minutes ago forgotten. "I didn't ask him," Charlie said, seriously. "He didn't know I was watching last night when his dad did it. Mr. Sanders walked in and just touched Lance on the arm, and Lance got up and walked out with him. I followed and watched. They didn't even close the bedroom door," he added, giggling. "Did they see you?" Tom asked, by now having forgotten all caution. Charlie giggled. "No, they didn't. It was all dark. I could see anyways." "Well, that's good," Tom said, now thinking with his cock, which wanted nothing more than to be embedded in Charlie's willing ass. "It's a very private thing that men do with boys, and it's never talked about, because it's too important." Charlie smiled so as to brighten the darkest cave. "Yeah! That's what it says here!" He read from the magazine. "'"Fuck me, Daddy!" Marty cries, as Daddy shoves his cock into his son's most private place.'" Once again, Tom was unable to speak. No problem with the schools in this town, he thought ruefully - they must still teach phonics here. He tried to understand what the boy wanted, but found other revelations pushing forward. Lance's dad was fucking his son, perhaps on a daily basis - certainly a regular one, judging by the fact that the kid knew what the man wanted just by being touched on the arm. Furthermore, it was consensual, or at least habitual, since the boy had not complained. The man wasn't worried about Charlie watching, since the door to the master bedroom was left open - perhaps he even wanted him to watch. Tom realized that there was a nightlight in the hallway, and Charlie could definitely have been seen, and both Lance and his father would have known it, so it had to be intentional. Lance had wanted to do the same thing to Charlie. "Not every boy does that with his dad, you said," Charlie said, interrupting Tom's reverie. "No, not all of them," Tom replied. "Mr. Sanders must love Lance a lot, then," Charlie said seriously. Tom didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. "Am I, um, do I ..." Charlie seemed to struggle with his words. Tom waited. Charlie made up his mind. "You like me, right?" Oh God, Tom thought, nearly cumming then and there; he knew what was coming, but he wanted to hear it from the boy's lips. "I like you a lot," he said, giving Charlie a fatherly squeeze. "Um, you think I'm important, right? I mean, am I important to you?" Charlie seemed ashamed of himself then, regretting he had asked the question. Tom put his hand on the boy's bare chest under the blanket, his thumb and little finger nearly stretching from side to side. He moved it a little, savoring the soft touch, then left it there. "Yes, I like you a lot, and you are important to me," he said softly. "Well, then, um," Charlie seemed to be working up the courage, "do you, um, want to fuck me? You could, y'know, pretend you were my dad?" "I will do more than that with you, Charlie," Tom replied, moving both his hands under the blanket to feel the marvellous body sitting in his lap. Charlie sighed as the man's hands roamed over his legs, hips, chest, back and shoulders. "I will do whatever you want, but you tell me if you don't want me to do anything, okay?" The boy was obviously not paying attention. He had reached under Tom's shirt and was feeling his chest and arms. "Yeah," he said. Suddenly, he hugged Tom so hard the man was nearly unable to breathe. Tom stood up, took off his shirt and boxers, then gave Charlie both views, his arms held out. Charlie giggled. He wrapped the boy in the blanket and carried him upstairs to the master bedroom. Lance's bedroom door was open; Tom was pleased. His mind was clear. No lights were on upstairs, but the hallway nightlight was shining. Tom threw Charlie on the bed with a bounce. The boy giggled loudly. Lance would have to be awake by now. Tom leaned down and picked Charlie up with one hand as he pulled the covers down, then set the boy back down. Charlie watched expectantly. Tom got in bed and pulled the covers over them both - just one sheet and a blanket, though; they would work up enough heat themselves. When Lance got up to watch, Tom thought, he'll only see the blanket moving. Imagination is the best aphrodisiac. Tom thought he heard a bed squeak in Lance's bedroom, but his attention was elsewhere. He framed Charlie's face with his hands and kissed him lightly on the lips, the moved them slowly down the boy's arms, savoring especially the delicate wrist and fingertips. He held both hands, intertwining their fingers, as he kissed the boy again, licking the child's lips this time. Charlie sighed, and Tom inhaled his breath. He moved his hands up to the boy's shoulders and touched him, just with the fingertips. He moved them down across the boy's collarbone and around his nipples, just touching each. Tom then went back across under Charlie's arms, stopping just short of the ticklish spot. From there, he traced his way along the boy's sides till he came to the pelvis, then followed the prominent edge till his fingers met in the middle. He laid one hand flat on the boy's chest and played with his bellybutton with the other, eliciting a giggle that he smothered with a kiss, running his hands down the boy's sides, stopping as before at the pelvis. Charlie shivered. Tom smiled. He crawled down under the covers and kissed each of Charlie's feet tenderly, then wrapped his hands around the boy's ankles and started moving up. At the knees, he stopped and looked at the boy's face: his eyes were closed, his mouth open. Tom smiled again and kept moving up, inch by inch, till he got to Charlie's hips. He could hear the boy breathing. Tom pushed Charlie's knees up. The blanket fell off of both of them. A gasp was heard in the hallway. Tom licked each of the boy's ass cheeks, starting at the hip and working toward the center. Charlie was breathing audibly. Finally, the man reached the boy's hole, but instead of licking there he went all the way down to the base of the crack and licked slowly upward, pausing briefly to lick lightly around the hole, not touching it, however, and continued up to the space between Charlie's legs. Charlie was going ballistic. Nobody, *nobody* had touched him there since he had last been bathed by his mother, and he couldn't remember that. He felt like something was building up in him, that he would explode if this went on, but he didn't want it to stop. His breath was coming in deep gasps, widely spaced. Tom licked the underside of the boy's balls, as if by accident, then went back to the asshole. This time he didn't dance around but licked it directly, moving his tongue around and around Charlie's pucker. The boy's head spun in time with the tongue, then, just as it seemed that the torture would never end, Tom planted his tongue directly at the opening, pressing against it. "Ah-h-h," Charlie said. Tom pressed harder, and the tip of his tongue slipped in. "Uh-hh-uh," the boy continued to vocalize. He twirled his tongue a bit and pushed in further. He pulled out a bit, then pushed in all the way. Charlie squeaked loudly. Tom smiled. "Wow," a voice from the hallway whispered. Tom pulled his tongue out, then pushed back in again, setting up a rhythm. Charlie was shaking like a leaf. Tom was amazed he could be so effective, when he was just as inexperienced as Charlie - several years of fantasizing was evidently paying off. His amazement turned to alarm when the boy's sphincter suddenly clamped shut, trapping Tom's tongue inside. "Eee-eeee-eeeeee-eee," Charlie screamed. The whole block was awake after that. "Fuck, Charlie," the voice in the hall said. The boy finally let go, and Tom savored the taste, cleaning his tongue on the roof of his mouth and swallowing. "Did you like that, Charlie?" the man asked, taking the boy in his arms, holding him close. "Yeah," Charlie said, "do it again." Tom was surprised. Charlie had evidently cum, yet he still wanted more? Suddenly the man realized that there was no wetness above Charlie's dick, now held against Tom's belly. The boy had had a climax, surely, but it didn't leave him spent as it would a man. Tom smiled again, more broadly than ever. He kissed Charlie on the lips (the boy didn't seem to mind) and went directly to the little cock. He started by simply breathing on the circumcised head. Charlie arched his back. Tom went down and licked the space between the boy's legs again. Charlie moved them wider apart. Tom let his tongue play with the bottom of the boy's ball sac, making each touch a surprise. He moved up and breathed on the boy's cock again, then licked it lightly with the tip of his tongue, starting at the base, stopping short of the head. Charlie acted as if he had been shocked. This is too easy, Tom thought, as he moved back down, taking each little ball in his mouth in turn and swirling it around. Charlie was shaking like a leaf, reacting to each touch, no matter how small. Tom moved his lips slowly up the length of the cock, then kissed the head. He licked it lightly, then took it in his mouth. Charlie shook again, and Tom sensed that he was nearing another orgasm. He decided that he needed to remind Charlie where the center of a boy's sexiness was. He licked the tip of his middle finger and shoved it in Charlie's still-slick ass. Tom then went down and took the boy's cock and balls into his mouth, licking around the tip and down to the base. He sucked a little bit, bathing both in his saliva. At the same time, he moved his finger in a little more, reaching the second knuckle. "Ohhh-hhhh-hhh," the boy said. Tom pushed the finger all the way in and twirled it around as he moved up and down on the boycock, giving it full suction and licking the little balls on each downstroke. It didn't take long then. Charlie was soon bucking his hips, pushing up into Tom's mouth on the upstroke, pushing onto the finger on the downstroke. "Eeee-eee," he started, then it choked off; unable even to squeak, unable to breathe, Charlie came again for the second time. The pulsation of his cock in Tom's mouth, however, was the only sign of it. Tom couldn't get enough, however, and kept sucking for a little while. Eventually he realized that Charlie was unable to get his breath, and he stopped. He left the tip of his finger in, however. "Do it," Charlie breathed, "again." Like all kids, he couldn't get enough of a good thing - which is why a kid will eat ice cream till he's sick if an adult doesn't stop him. "Wow, hot little shit," Lance said, standing in the doorway, stroking. Tom turned to look at him. The other boy was completely naked but didn't seem to see Tom, his eyes fixed on Charlie's face. "Okay, one more time," Tom said, looking into Charlie's eyes, one hand roaming over the smooth body, the other with one finger in the boy's ass. "You wanted me to pretend I was your dad and fuck you, right?" "Yeah, like Lance's dad," Charlie said. "Shit!" Lance exclaimed from the doorway. "It will go in here," Tom said, wiggling his finger for emphasis. "In there," Charlie said, in a trance. Tom put the boy's hand on his own hard cock. He couldn't imagine how he had failed to cum before now. "This will go in there," he breathed, making sure the boy understood. Even now, he wasn't going to take advantage. "It's big, and it might hurt." "But then it will feel real good, Charlie," Lance said. "Like your dad does," Charlie said absently, twisting his hips on Tom's finger. "Like my dad does," Lance echoed, stroking in earnest. "Put it in me," Charlie said, his eyes closed. "Do it again." Tom spat on his hand, though he doubted any additional lubrication was needed, and spread it on his cock, mixing with the precum that was already dribbling down from the tip. He pushed Charlie's legs back again. Suddenly he felt mischevous. He reached between the boy's legs and ran his fingers up over that sensitive space, over the balls, and to the hyper-sensitive tip, which he barely touched. At the same time, he pushed the finger in again to the second knuckle, wiggling it slightly. "Tell me what you want me to do, Charlie," Tom said, huskily. "Fuck me," the boy said. It was all Tom needed to hear. He pulled the finger out and pushed Charlie back, his legs over his head. Charlie opened his eyes in fear, as if suddenly realizing what he had asked the man to do. If that were the case, it was too late, for Tom immediately pushed the head of his 6-inch cock into Charlie's "most private place," shoving past the sphincter as if if weren't there. The man felt a slight twinge as the head of his cock was pulled apart, but it was nothing compared to what Charlie felt. "Aaaaa-aaaah," he said (well, sort of "said"). Lance grabbed Charlie's hand. "It hurts at first, Charlie," he said, "but you will like it more and more. I do," he added, then looked up at Tom, who smiled. Lance looked back down at his feet, ashamed of the admission but unable to take it back. "I can take it," Charlie said through gritted teeth, "push it in more." Tom was only too glad to oblige. Feeling close to cumming himself, he shoved it all in in one lunge. "There ya go, kid," he said, feeling evil. Charlie screamed again, this time not from arousal but from pain. "Go through it," Lance helped. "Relax down there, and it will hurt less." "Is it all in?" Charlie asked. "It's all in," Tom answered. "Yeah, that's all," Lance added, and Tom looked sternly at him to be quiet. "You are like my dad, then, like Lance's dad," Charlie said. "Yeah, you're my little boy, and I'm fucking your little boypussy," Tom said. Lance heard that and looked at the cock embedded in his friend's ass. He seemed to forget about Charlie then, dropping the other boy's hand, staring instead at the invader impaling his friend. "I'm your little boy ..." Charlie whispered with satisfaction, the pain subsiding. "But you got to give me a good fuck," Tom said, savoring the feeling of the tight virgin ass around his cock, but wanting to get on with it, to share the joy that Charlie had felt twice already. "I will," Charlie said, but before he had finished, Tom had started pumping in and out, slowly at first, then accelerating. As Lance had said, Charlie was evidently in pain at first, biting his lip to avoid crying out, but he was soon bucking his hips, pushing down as the cock entered him, as pleasure - or perhaps rather the thought of what was being done to him - took over. A man was finally loving him. That thought electrified him more than the earlier times, and, fighting against the pain as Tom's cock shoved in and out, finally he transcended it, and soon had the greatest orgasm of the night. As before, Charlie screamed, and Tom, had he been thinking, would have been grateful for the fact that they lived well on the outskirts of town. As it was, he wasn't thinking - he was ramming his cock into the boy beneath him as fast as he could. Once more, Charlie's orgasm was unmistakeable. Tom found it nearly impossible to keep moving as the boy clamped down. At the same time, looking at the boy beneath him, writhing in the throes of what seemed to be the greatest orgasm of all time, feeling the little muscles stiffen as the boy's cock struggled to produce something, anything, to relieve the tension - well, it set Tom off. He started shooting into Charlie, harder that he had ever shot before, harder even than the j/o session he had had earlier that night. It was the greatest experience of his life, as if he had be put on earth only for this. The soles of his feet hurt. He fell on top of Charlie, nearly smothering him, then half-remembered himself and rolled over, still stuck in the boy. Tom noticed something dripping slowly down his side and back - it was Lance's cum. Charlie was still in the impossible position of having his knees against his shoulders, his feet over his head, though he now rested on his side. Tom's body was holding him that way, against the tendons in the boy's thighs, and the only thing holding Tom there was his cock, embedded in Charlie's ass. Something had to give, and it did, as Tom popped loudly out of Charlie. They both fell back, Charlie's legs flopping down as if he were a rag doll, both breathing heavily. Charlie snuggled up against Tom, ignoring Lance, who was feeling Charlie gingerly with his fingertips, as if he feared getting burnt. "You love me," Charlie said, as if stating a fact. Tom looked at him. "Yes," he said. And, at that moment, he did. He kissed Charlie on the lips. "Can we do it again?" Charlie asked. Tom rolled his eyes. "God, you're hot," Lance said. "Another time," Tom said. "I'm all worn out. You boys go at it." He started to get up. "Stay here!" Charlie said, panicked, grabbing Tom's arm. "Yeah, stay," Lance said. "You can watch us." So Tom stayed, lying on his side, his head in his hand, as the boys "went at it." And they did - with a vengeance. First, Lance asked Charlie to suck his dick. Charlie looked at Tom to see if it was okay. Tom smiled and nodded, and Charlie when right to it. A couple times Lance had to warn him about teeth, but it wasn't long before a very surprised-looking Charlie was sitting in bed with cum flowing out of his mouth. "Swallow it," Tom told him, and Charlie did. Charlie wanted to "do it again," and Lance was game. This time, Lance sucked Charlie off. Charlie put his finger in his butt, but Lance pulled it out. "That's next time," he said. Charlie came, screaming as always. Next Lance, true to his word, draped Charlie over the edge of the bed and fucked him. Lance was not at all concerned with how Charlie felt and fucked him like a rabbit, but Charlie came again anyway. So did Lance. Lance, by that time, was spent as well, but Charlie begged him to "do it again." Lance laid on the bed as Charlie licked his ass, then fucked him. Again Charlie came. Tom lost count of all the times Charlie had an orgasm; he did it at least twice while Lance was fucking him. Still he wanted to "do it again." Finally, Lance told him no, he was worn out too. Lance laid down on one side of the bed, Tom on the other, and Charlie curled up in between. Charlie put his head on Tom's shoulder. His little prick, still hard, rubbed against Tom's thigh. Lance eventually rolled over and spooned Charlie. He stretched his arm over the other boy so that it rested on Tom's chest. It was going to be an interesting week, Tom thought. THE END