Copyright <©> 2003, by Jim Tee. All rights, except those expressly transferred by the author, are strictly reserved to the author alone. No part of this work may be reproduced, except for single copies of the work and excerpts used by a reviewer, by any means whatsoever, unless written permission is provided by Jim Tee.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or otherwise, is strictly coincidental and unintended. The story contains material directed to an adult audience and involves relationships, including sex, between adults and minors and minors and minors. It is not the author's intent to promote or otherwise condone such relationships even though they may be observed in reality.
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Boxer answered the door bell.
"Hey pal, I thought you weren't feeling too good.. Why aren't you in the sack?"
With one of those muffled, somewhat nasal voices, he answered, "Ah, I been taken' that green stuff that tastes like shit. It seems to be workin'. I feel better, now. At least, I'm not sneezin' all over the place, anymore."
Boxer's name was really John, Jr. Apparently, when he was a baby he would box his mother while feeding. Louise had said she sometimes had to hold his hands together to avoid getting black and blue marks all over her teats. It seemed a natural nickname for him at the time, and somehow the nickname stuck.
I don't think Boxer would have used the four letter word in his response had either of his parents been within earshot. For one reason or another, all three of the kids dealt with me as if I were one of their buddies. I had the feeling that they would tell me exactly what they were thinking, whereas with their parents, they were a little less forthcoming.
He was a stocky little kid. Bright red hair, obligatory freckles and forest green, almost black, eyes, just like his mother's. At eight years old he already looked like he might become a linebacker for the Bears in a few years. He played Pop Warner football and was already being carefully watched over by the high school varsity coach. I was surprised when I heard of his interest in Boxer; it never occurred to me that high school coaches would take an interest in kids this young. I guess the need to win was as severe in high school athletics as anywhere else.
Like his siblings, Boxer was very bright. All of the Phillips' kids were honor roll students. That was not surprising. Both John and Louise had demonstrated their intellectual prowess. John was the youngest member of the firm to have earned a partnership; Louise not only had graduated magna cum laude from the University of Chicago, she was an accomplished concert pianist and, on occasion, played with the Chicago Symphony.
In addition, both parents had been heavily involved in high school and college athletics. John had lettered in high school in three sports. Louise was the number one seed in her high school and later, her college, tennis teams.
Sarah, at 10, was already developing into a simply gorgeous blond-haired beauty with brains, but she had few of her parents's physical characteristics. She was an adopted child, coming to the Phillips at ten weeks of age. Her mother, John's sister, and her father were killed in an automobile accident shortly after Sarah was born. John and Louise had taken her in immediately after the accident. I don't believe there was ever an occasion that Sarah would be treated any differently than her two brothers. It was easy to see that she was loved by her family.
And then there was Jim. Twelve years of age, soon to be thirteen. You guessed it, he had the pitch black hair of his father, bright, mischievous eyes, his mother's piano fingers, about 5' 6", maybe 145 pounds, and growing. He had the body and agility of a tennis player and indeed, was already known as a fierce competitor on the courts.
His forte was science, math and computers, but had never earned less than an "A" in any of his classes. He had designed and built the high school's web pages which had won a state-wide high school contest. He was already a sophomore in school by virtue of having skipped third and seventh grade.
John had told me that he could have passed through at least one more grade, but he wouldn't allow it because he feared Jim would get too far away from his age group. It was John's belief that the physical development of a child was as important as their intellectual development and he didn't want Jim to be thrown into an environment where his classmates were well beyond Jim's physical growth.
"Hey, Nate, come on in and take a load off your feet. I mixed you a scotch and soda with a twist when I heard your car door slam shut."
"Thanks, John. I've been looking forward to a little libation. It's been a tough week, even though I spent this afternoon hitting golf balls."
I had no unwillingness to tell my boss that I had goofed off all afternoon. The firm's policy was to limit overtime hours as much as possible. At the manager level, they encouraged taking some time off as the occasion allowed.
"How's the audit going? I know you've already studied last years working papers. Do you see anything we need to talk about?"
"No, it was a pretty clean audit last year except for the accounting for employee pensions. I've already begun checking to see if they paid any attention to our recommendations from last year. It looks like they have, but, I'm not finished yet. I think we're going to have to make a retroactive adjustment in the financials to recast last year's statements so as to be compatible with this year. The juniors have been busy most of the week taking inventory and getting receivable confirmations ready to mail.
"If anything looks funny, you can be sure I'll call you in."
I took a hit on the scotch and soda. John always served a single malt scotch. Very expensive, but also, very tasty with a heavy musty flavor.
About then Louise came down the stairs. She had a drink in her hand.
"Let's go, John" she said. "The Jackson's don't like late comers.
"Hi, Nate. Glad you could make it. The kids seem to get along better when you're here. They've already had dinner. Jim can stay up as long as he wants, but try to get the other two in bed by 10. Boxer should already be in bed, but he absolutely refuses. I guess he knows best, but maybe you could push him a little. And before I forget, give him another dose of that `green shit,' as he calls it, around 8. That might help to knock him out earlier than usual."
I chuckled as I responded, "I doubt I can do any better than you. But, I will get him to take the `green stuff' as scheduled. Incidentally Louise, you look pretty spiffy tonight. If Phil Jackson doesn't make a pass at you, I'll be surprised."
I turned to John and continued our conversation before Louise had a chance to respond to my comment, "By the way, when do you expect to visit the job site, John?"
Although John seldom notified audit managers working for him when he was going to show up on the client's premises, he always let me know in advance. To me, that was another sign that he was on my side when it came to business.
"I think I've got it scheduled for next Tuesday, but I'll let you know for sure Monday morning.
"Help yourself to another scotch. You know where it is. If any of the kids want a snack before going to bed, they know where to find it. We'll be back around midnight. Have fun!"
As the front door closed, I turned to Boxer and asked, "Where's Sarah and Jim?"
"They're down stairs in the rec room playing chess. Sarah never wins, but she swears that any day now, she's gonna beat the pants off of `em. I hope I'm still alive when she does it!"
"You mean you don't think it's going to be anytime in the near future. You might be wrong about that. She plays pretty good, as I remember."
"Yeah, well, pretty good ain't good enough," he answered. And then added, "Come on, let's you and me play ping pong. I'm gettin' better at it, so you better be careful."
"OK, bud. I'm game, if you're up to it. Let's see how much you've improved."
We went downstairs. The rec room was huge. There was enough room for a ping pong table, an 8-foot pool table, a card table, an electrically scored dart board, a big-screen TV with VCR/DVD, a library large enough to hold 500 books, or so, and a CD/VCR/DVD library, a wet-bar with an under bar refrigerator and three conversation areas with assorted overstuffed couches, arm chairs, end tables and the like. On one end of the room there was a sauna for general use and a shower for swimmers to use as needed. The room had to be, at the least, 1,600 sq.ft., maybe even more.
The wall separating the room from the outdoors was all glass, with two sliding glass doors leading out to a huge swimming pool and patio area that was as well equipped as the rec room, but for outdoor fun and games. There was a half-court basketball area located a few steps down from the patio railing that, in the winter, was designed to form a small ice-skating rink of the same size.
Last winter, at a party John had held for his audit managers, we actually played hockey on that rink. That was a party to beat all parties. Six of us played hockey in three man teams and as the night, and drink, progressed, the hockey game got pretty wild. One of the managers actually broke his nose in the foray. Of course, no one knew how that happened. The guy is no longer with the firm and I don't think anyone is unhappy about it. He was truly a pain in the ass.
As Boxer and I entered the rec room, I said "Hi, there guys. How's the chess game progressing?"
Boxer quickly added, "Nate and me are gonna play ping pong."
"That'll work," Jim said. "It'll give me just enough time to finish off Sarah. Then I'll play the winner, as if there's any doubt who the winner will be."
"That's not fair," said Sarah. "I think we oughta play partners. Nate and I will take you two bozos on. I'm getting bored with chess, anyway."
"On second thought," Jim said, "it'll take about six more moves and this game will be over. You guys want to just warm up, then we'll play partners. Boxer and I will whip your butts, like we always do!"
"Whoa! The little squirt is getting boastful in his old age, Boxer. Let's get primed for big brother. I think Sarah and I can win a ping pong game with one arm tied behind our backs."
As 8 o'clock came near, Jim had won his chess game with Sarah, Sarah and I had split our ping pong games, one a piece, and the kids were pushing me for a tie breaker.
"OK," I said, "here's the deal. We play a tie breaker, which, of course, Sarah and I will win. Then Boxer takes his medicine and Sarah and Boxer get ready for bed. You guys don't have to go to bed unless you want to.
"Then we'll find a movie to watch from the library over there, Jim can make some popcorn while you two get ready for bed and then we'll watch the movie together.
"But, you two gotta promise me you will be in bed by 10 p.m., or sooner, if you want to. Is that a deal?"
"Yeah, but I don't see why Jim gets to stay up later than us," said Sarah.
"Well, Sarah, when you are about ready to turn 13, you'll have a few more options, too. But, right now, that's the deal. OK?"
"Yeah, OK," both Boxer and Sarah responded almost in unison.
"Sounds OK to me," added Jim, "except for a different winner in the tie breaker."
By 8:45, Sarah and I had won a close tie breaker and everybody, including Jim, surprisingly, had put on their pajamas. Jim had made some popcorn without burning down the house, Boxer had taken his `green shit,' and Sarah had picked a Disney movie for our entertainment.
Well, you can't win `em all. I'm not much of a fan of animated movies, but if that's the ticket, then that's the ticket. I had a feeling I had three tired kids on my hands and that they would poop out and go to bed well before the movie had ended.
I was right. Boxer was the first to conk out. I carried him into his bedroom and tucked him in. I was mesmerized by the fresh smell of his youth and by his sweet young freckled face sticking out from under the covers with his blazing red hair topping him off. For the first time, I noticed his nose had just a slight little upturn. I bent over and gave him a light kiss on his nose.
"Goodnight, bud. It's been fun. Get well, quick," I said.
"Ga'night, Nate. I'm glad you were here tonight. It was a lot of fun," he answered.
I turned out the light and returned to the rec room. Imagine that; the little shit hadn't been asleep, after all! I wondered if I would hear about that little kiss on his nose from his parents.
Not long after returning to the rec room, Sarah said she was falling asleep and asked if I would tuck her in, too.
"Of course, Sarah. If you're ready to go to bed, I'll walk with you and tuck you in. You're too big a girl for me to carry."
"OK, let's go," she said.
I tucked her blanket under the mattress and said, "Thank you, young lady, for being such a great partner. They never had a chance."
I bent down and gave her a light kiss on her forehead.
"Goodnight, Sarah. Sweet dreams."
"Goodnight, Nate. Thanks for being here. We sure showed them, didn't we?"
"Yes, we sure did. You really played a great game. Now go to sleep."
When I returned to the rec room, Jim was splayed out in one of the overstuffed chairs.
"Man, you look like you're ready to hit the sack, too. You don't have to stay up to keep me company. I can entertain myself for the next hour or so `til your folks get back."
I sat down on a couch, took off my shoes and rested my feet on the coffee table sitting in front of the couch. Peter Pan was flying off to save the old witch, I think. Although, as I think about it, that doesn't make any sense.
"Don't breathe too hard; the smell of my sweaty feet might be more than anyone can bare," I said. .
"Yeah, I know. But I can't smell anything from over here. Can I come sit next to you on the couch?"
"Sure, if you want to, come ahead."
Jim got up from his chair and plunked himself down right next to me, leaning a little in my direction until his arm was against mine.
I could feel his body heat radiating through his pajamas and onto my arm. My first reaction was to move a little to allow some space between us. But then I realized that I liked the feel of his body against mine. There was something about the closeness...more than just body heat. I don't know what it was, but my body had become sensitive. It was as if a tiny electrical charge was being passed between our bodies.
I found myself wondering if Jim was feeling this way, too. I recalled the strange feelings I obtained while I was working with Billy Sanchez on his golf swing earlier in the day and how I was certain he had become sexually aroused by my touching his butt.
I sat there as still as I could. I was afraid that any additional movement and I would become aroused just as I had with Billy.
I had to extricate myself from this situation as quickly as possible, before things got out of hand.
"You can't be comfortable sitting there like you are, can you?" I said, hoping that he would move to the other end of the couch.
"No. It's not very comfortable. It would be a whole lot better if I laid my head on your shoulder. How about putting your arm up around my neck so I can rest my head on your shoulder?"
Oh, shit, I thought. This isn't going in the right direction. Now what was I going to do? I really liked this kid, and I didn't want to do anything that could be interpreted as rejection. Where, on earth, was this going to go, though? On the one hand, I was afraid of what might happen if I agreed to his request. On the other hand, I was afraid of what might happen if I didn't agree to his request.
"Well, I'm waiting. We'd both be more comfortable if you put your arm around my neck."
I looked at his face turned towards mine. He had a quizzical look in his eyes. God, I thought, he is simply gorgeous. Those striking eyes set under eyebrows that had nearly no break between them, long black eyelashes that seemed to be saying something erotic, a perfectly formed nose setting off a pixie-like smile, all of it demanding that I say yes. Yes, my sweet young man, yes. How could I not agree to such an innocent request.
"Sure, I can do that."
I raised my right arm and placed it over his shoulders. He snuggled closer and rested his head on my shoulder.
"Are you more comfortable now?" I quietly asked.
"Sure am," he responded. "How `bout you? Are you OK?"
"Sure am," I bravely responded.
I loved the sensations coursing through my body. The electricity had stepped up in intensity. I was slowly, but surely, becoming aroused. I could feel the tightness in my crotch building. I was wearing jockey shorts, thank goodness, and they were containing me, although I was beginning to feel some discomfort in the arrangement between my legs. At least I wasn't making a tent.
I hadn't had sex with my wife in over a month. I hadn't jacked off in over a week. I realized that I WAS HORNY!!
And that's not good! There I was, becoming captivated by a twelve year old boy! Feeling things I hadn't felt in a long, long time. Even if there weren't laws against this behavior, I was sure it was wrong, wrong, wrong. I knew what society thought about this. I knew what Jim's folks would think about this. I knew what my wife would think about this. I knew what the guys I work with would think about this. Maybe, and most importantly, I knew the risk I was taking insofar as my professional life was concerned.
Yet, here I was. My arm around this sweet young boy, becoming more involved in an activity that was certain to end in unhappiness for a lot of people.
Time seemed to move slowly while I considered the circumstance. I hardly noticed that Jim had dropped off to sleep.
Nothing had happened. I was exhilarated, thinking that I had escaped from the untenable position in which I found myself.
And then it happened. Jim moved around a little, nestling into my shoulder.
WHAT? He just laid his hand on my crotch! Palm up, but laying directly over my contained erection.
Was that an accident? Was he really asleep? Is this a form of sleep-walking? Is he attempting to seduce me?
I could feel the warmth of his hand over my erection. The simple movement of his hand to this location was enough for the electrical charges to become even more evident. My erection, which had not progressed to the maximum, began anew. It was beginning to be painful, with my penis tucked downward into my jockeys while it, as if with a mind of its own, wanted to be standing at attention...free and clear, bobbing around in all its glory.
Surely I could reach down between my beltline and skin, slip my hand into my jockeys and re-position the thing in a more natural condition with the head tending towards my belly button but still contained within my jockeys.
Would Jim wake up?
Did I want him to wake up?
Did Jim have this planned all along? If it comes to it, how can I jack off without him knowing about it? I knew there was a point of no return rapidly approaching.
I reached down, slid my hand under my jockeys, grasped my member with my finger tips and slid it around to the left in a circular fashion. I couldn't slide it straight up towards my bellybutton. I was afraid that it might have stuck out from under my pants. I slid it back around to the right since it seemed to have a natural tendency to lean a little to the right in its present condition. I stopped the movement when it got to 45 degrees short of dead center. It now had more freedom of space and it felt much better.
While I was doing this Jim's hand remained where it was. With all that moving around under his hand, one would have thought it enough to bring him back to awareness.
I sat there thinking about what was next. The sensations running throughout my body were beginning to overcome my sensibilities.
With my index finger I began tracing circles and squares in the palm of his hand resting over my hardness. I continued by running my finger up his arm and down again, always returning to the palm of his opened hand. Slowly, sensuously, purposefully.
I wasn't sure what was going on with Jim, but I knew I was becoming more involved with each additional movement. I sensed Jim's breathing rate increase.
I realized then that I wanted Jim to jack me off. I thought of the jack off sessions Max and I had while we were Jim's age. Nothing else mattered. I wanted this beautiful young boy to caress me, to kiss me deeply, to hold me like I've never been held before, to take my penis into his hand and do the wonders.
And a new surge of electricity coursed through my body as I thought how much I wanted to do the same to him.
My arm drew him closer to my body. I began to gently rub his right upper arm. He was wearing loose fitting short sleeved pajama tops. I ran my hand under his arm, up his sleeve and searched for his right teat.
As I was embarking on this exploration, I happened to glance at his crotch. He was wearing a tent that, in my present condition, looked like Mount Vesuvius. He had a huge hard-on. My god, I thought, is he really only 12? He could be bigger than I am!
I turned my attention to the search for a teat and soon found it. Hard as a rock! I gently drew circles around the outside ring. Curiously enough, given how slender he was, there was ample flesh formed around his hard little teat. It was possible to grab a small amount of flesh and gently message it.
I withdrew my hand from under his pajama top and began to draw circles around his right ear. Every now and then I grasped his earlobe and gently massaged it. Meanwhile, I turned my body slightly toward him, reached under his pajama top from the front and with my left hand, gently rubbed his stomach. I watched the tent he had formed make jerking motions, as if someone had grabbed the center pole and moved it around a little.
Jim's hand, previously palm up, changed positions to palm down and grasped my hardness. He was rolling it around in his fingers like you do in softening when forming glazier's putty.
A charge went through my body. I didn't want to cum yet. I wanted these sensations to continue forever. I was in ecstacy. Life is too short for this not to continue a little while longer.
"Jim, are you awake?"
"I've never been asleep. Are you enjoying this?"
I placed my hand along side his cheek and turned his head to mine.
I kissed him. A gentle but firm kiss with my mouth open and my tongue searching for his warmth. He was ready, and we kissed for what seemed an hour, our tongues searching out the inside of one another's mouth, reveling in the cleavage of our teeth and the sand covered tops of our tongues. It was a dance with a purpose, as if there were nothing else in the world that mattered.
I withdrew. "Jim, you are marvelous. You have given me an answer to a question I've had for a long time. But, this has created a lot of questions that you and I need to answer for ourselves. I think, for now, we need to cool it down and try to communicate with one another on a level that is rational and without heat.
"Can we do that?"
"Sure we can," Jim answered, "but you should know I've been plotting this for at least a year. I know it sounds crazy, and I'm just a spoiled thirteen year old brat, but I fell in love with you soon after we met. I'm not sure how rational I can be."
With my left hand I reached for the hand making delights down below. My right arm remained draped over his shoulders and I consciously stopped my ministrations to his beautiful, young body.
We sat there, holding hands. I don't know what Jim was thinking, but my brain was in overload. My erection could be seen tilted over to my right. While I thought I was being clever trying to hide my engorged member, all along, it was tenting my pants. Even though it wasn't standing straight up, as if saluting the hot little teenager `innocently' pressed against my body, it was clearly visible and I had made it an easy target for his long, sexy fingers.
It occurred to me that Jim might have thought that my reaching down into my pants and moving it to a more easily accessible position, had been an acceptance of his intentions.
My god, maybe it was. Maybe my subconscious yearnings for sexual release took over my thought processes and I had actually promoted his involvement along with mine.
"Jim, we hardly know one another. Yeah, I've been here as a babysitter frequently in the near past. But, I've been here as an adult, thinking I was taking care of children, for god's sakes! It never occurred to me that you may have had a different agenda or that I should, or could, look at you from the point of view of a sex partner, a lover.
"I'm not even sure if you are mature enough to think about the implications beyond the heat of the moment, beyond an immediate gratification of your teenage lust.
"I've been seeking a satisfying sexual relationship with my wife for four years now. It hasn't happened. The question you answered for me tonight is that I now realize that it isn't ever going to happen. The sensations you created in my body were unlike any I have ever experienced. I know now that it's going to take another male to exchange his love, compassion and tenderness before I will be able to realize a sexual completeness.
"But, I carrying a lot of intellectual baggage, and you need to understand my problems, just as I want to understand yours. If, after we are able to gain a deeper understanding of one another's needs, hopes, and desires...not just sexual, but family, society and personal growth as well...then, maybe, he can form a lasting and loving relationship."
"Are you saying that you and me can't have a sexual existence together until we iron out all the problems of the world? That's nuts!
"You're here. I'm here. I know you want to have sex with me as much as I do with you. What the hell more do we need? You gotta understand that sex is king!"
"Jesus, Jim, are you really only 12? You talk like Max. He's my age but apparently he's going on 13. Either that, or you're going on 23.
"Jim, I don't know what's right. I know I'd like to take you in my arms, right now, and make wild passionate love to you. BUT, I CAN'T!
"For me, there's gotta be more than just sex. There are some personal issues I've gotta resolve before I jump into a sexual relationship, whether it be with you or someone else.
"Let me change the subject for just a moment. I know you have played golf with your Dad. Do you enjoy golf?"
"Christ, Nate, what's that got to do with anything?"
"Look, just answer the question truthfully. Do you enjoy playing the game, or not?"
"Yeah, I enjoy golf. I'd probably enjoy it a whole lot more if I were playing it with you instead of Dad. But, yeah, it's a good game. It's competitive, like tennis. I just wish I could play the game better, is all."
"OK. Here's the deal. I'll talk your Dad into letting you come out to the golf center on Saturday mornings. There are three of us instructing. None of us are professional golf teachers, but you can pick up a lot of useful knowledge about the game, if you pay attention.
"Once you get a handle on the basic elements, you and I will play golf, at least once a week; maybe Wednesday's, after school, or Saturday's after the golf clinic is over; whatever works out.
"It will give us a chance to be together...to get to know one another on a personal level. You might find out that I am really a pain in the neck when you get to know me. Meanwhile, I can resolve some of these issues I mentioned. Hopefully, we can resolve some of the issues together.
"If this seems like a workable solution to my problem, then I'll tell you what some of my concerns are, you can think about `em, and we can talk about `em together...either on the golf course or at the clinic. There are parts of the game that Max is best at teaching. Same goes for me. So we won't work on the golf game one on one, exclusively. But there's plenty of time before and after the clinic.
"What do you think? I could pick you up on my way to the clinic, and drop you off when it's over, or after we go play a real round of golf."
"I thought the clinic was for disadvantaged kids. I ain't so disadvantaged, ya' know."
"No," I chuckled, "you aren't disadvantaged. But then, I'm not sure...I haven't seen what you carry between your legs. Maybe you are disadvantaged."
"Oh, yeah. I'm probably listening to John Holmes, reincarnated. Right?
"OK. You get the `ol man to agree to let me playing golf on Saturdays rather than mow the lawn, and you've got a deal. Tell him I'll mow the lawn on Sunday's. I'm not going to church too often, anyways.
"So, tell me your problems. Dr. Freud is ready to listen."