Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2023 09:41:10 +0000 (UTC)
From: Oastrel <oastrel@yahoo.com>
Subject: Two-Faced Brat

Two-Faced Brat
by Oastrel

"Too much." Calvin swayed on his feet as he stepped into the hall. "Too
much, too much, too much."

It wasn't his fault everyone was expected to show up at the company gala.
Wasn't his fault they'd kept the prosecco flowing all night. Wasn't his
fault he'd had to stay in his seat listening to his boss blather on about
Sutherland Mutual's profit margins this quarter.

All Calvin knew was that he'd lost count of how much he'd had to drink.
At a certain point, realizing his bladder was growing painfully full,
he'd excused himself and walked--no, stumbled--from the room.

Now he was desperate for the bathroom. He'd never been in his boss's
house before. It was a small mansion, really. The dining room let out
into a high-ceilinged hallway paneled in oak, with soft lights glowing
from sconces set at regular intervals between the tall glass windows.

The cool jazz faded behind him as he took shaky steps along the plush
carpet. Where was the bathroom?

"Too much," he thought again.

He reached the end of the hall, where the carpeting ran up a wide flight
of stairs that bent at the top and disappeared into darkness.

Upstairs.

Dimly, he recalled something his friend Adam had told him. What was it?

Upstairs.

Adam had worked for Sutherland Mutual several years earlier. When Calvin
had mentioned the gala, Adam's eyes had widened. "So you're going to
Sutherland's house?"

"I guess so." Calvin had replied. "What, is it there every year or
something?"

"Yeah. It's...a nice place."

"OK."

"No, I mean, the whole house is really cool."

"Well, yeah. He's, like...stupid rich."

"Right, right, of course. You should check out the upstairs."

"Why?"

"It's just...trust me."

Now, Calvin stood peering up the stairs into the gloom. There had to be a
bathroom on the second floor. There just had to.

He took the steps slowly, his bladder twinging with every step.

At the top was another hallway with several doors leading off into new
rooms. The last one in the row was ajar, with a sliver of light coming
out.

Calvin shuffled quickly over to the door and opened it.

A bathroom!

He stepped inside and hastily nudged the door closed with his head as he
thrust his pants and underwear roughly down to mid-thigh. Then he gave a
wobbly turn, scraping past the floral shower curtain, shuffled over to
the toilet, and lifted the lid. He leaned forward, supporting himself
with one outstretched hand on the wall in front of him. Relief swept over
him as he grabbed his dick, aimed it at the bowl, and let fly.

Thank god.

Calvin stood there for a long time, a welcome tingle caressing his body
as he drained his bladder at last.

His stream was so heavy, his thoughts so clouded, that the click of the
door handle behind him didn't register at first.

"Wow, you drank a lot!" came a cheerful voice from behind him.

He whipped his head around and saw, to his shock, a young boy leaning on
the bathroom door and watching him. Just looking up at him with a little
smile on his lips.

"What the hell, kid? Get out of here!" Calvin half-turned and waved his
arm at the boy, trying to shoo him out of the room. Too late, he realized
he'd let go of his dick, which began to sway with his movments, causing
his stream to slosh.

Without hesitating, the boy darted forward, grabbed Calvin's still
urinating penis, and pointed it at the bowl again.

"Oh my--Jesus Christ, what are you--don't touch me!" Calvin sputtered.

"You're peeing all over the floor," the boy said simply.

"No, I'm not."

"Well, you were gonna."

"I was not!"

"Were too. Just focus on staying still. Let me help you."

Calvin was going to say something else, but his head spun and he realized
he actually did need the help. He placed both hands on the wall and
leaned forward again, letting the boy aim his dick. He relaxed once
again, strangely calm despite the situation.

"Whoa," murmured the boy as the stream, which had slowed to a trickle,
built up to its full force again. "You drank so much. You're peeing like
a firehose."

"Sorry," Calvin muttered. "Party."

"It's OK, just keep going. You can do it."

Calvin braced himself on the wall and let it all out.

As the stream came to a stop, the boy gave his dick a little shake, as if
trying to coax the last few drops of orange juice from a bottle.

Finally, he let go. Calvin felt a twinge of...was that disappointment?
Had he actually been enjoying the sensation of the soft little hand
gripping his shaft? No, that was absurd.

He turned to face the kid, who grinned up at him: a little slip of a
thing, with sandy brown hair, freckles, and an upturned nose. He was
wearing faded flannel pajamas, sky blue with white sailboats. They looked
a size too short.

"Who are you?" Calvin asked.

"I'm Wyatt."

"Wyatt...Wyatt..." The name sounded familiar. "Wait, not--what's your
last name?"

The boy's grin widened. "Sutherland."

"Suth--are you--oh...oh, shit. Are you my boss's son?"

"Well, probably your boss's boss's son. Or boss's boss's boss's...I
dunno. Who are you?"

Calvin blushed. "My name is Calvin. I'm...I'm an intern."

"Oh god, then I'm, like, your boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's boss's
boss's boss's boss's..." The string of words became a babble.

"OK, OK, I get it. Now please leave."

"Why?"

"You shouldn't have been in here in the first place."

"Why?"

"Why? Um..." Calvin snorted. "I can think of a billion reasons. Get out.
Go use your own bathroom."

"This is my bathroom."

"What?"

"This...is...my...bathroom." Wyatt's tone sounded almost patronizing.
"You're welcome to use it though. Lucky for you I was here."

"Uh...thanks, but I can use the bathroom by myself." Even as he spoke the
words, Calvin realized he was swaying on his feet. He steadied himself on
the vanity and silently cursed those last few glasses of prosecco.

Wyatt giggled. "Well, clearly that's not true."

"Would you get the hell out of here? I do not need your help."

"You wanted it, anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"You wanted me to help you."

"What does that mean?"

"You liked it."

Calvin had no idea what to say. "I..."

"You liked it. Or your cock did."

"Hey, watch your language, kid."

"What, I can hold your cock but I can't say the word?"

"No!"

"That hardly seems consistent."

"No, I mean, you can't hold my--" What was going on? Calvin's head spun.
Why was he letting this happen? Why were his pants still down? "How...how
old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" Wyatt's grin was back. He was enjoying this,
Calvin realized.

"Fourteen?"

"Nope."

"F-fifteen?"

Wyatt snickered. "You're not that smart, are you? Lucky you have a nice
cock." He reached out and grabbed Calvin's penis again.

Calvin snapped to alertness and he smacked Wyatt's hand away. "I told...I
told you to stop."

"Actually, you didn't." Wyatt reached out and grabbed him again.

Calvin seized the boy roughly by both shoulders and slammed him against
the bathroom door. Hard. Breath escaped his little lips in a grunt.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, Wyatt whispered, "You're drunk."

Calvin looked down and saw the boy's entire face change. The wide-set
hazel eyes narrowed to slits and the innocent little grin twisted into a
knowing smirk. It was like a completely different person had entered the
room.

"You're drunk," repeated the kid, "and you're sloppy."

"I..."

"And you're touching me."

There it was.

"No...no, I--"

"And you're letting me touch you." Calvin looked down and realized the
little imp had reached out and taken hold of his dick yet again. He
wasn't doing anything--just letting it rest softly in his hand. But, to
his horror, Calvin could feel the shaft beginning to throb and grow
thicker and longer. "Seems like you're enjoying it, too. Like, a lot."

"No..."

"Calvin, Calvin, Calvin...It's all right," Wyatt crooned. "I'm sure
they'll understand."

"Under-understand? You're not going to--"

"Tell? Hmm...don't you think I'd better?"

"No, please--" Calvin's cock was at full hardness; Wyatt began to stroke
it almost absentmindedly as he stared upward. Calvin gulped. "Please, you
can't--I--"

"Don't worry; I'll say I liked when your thing got hard in my hand. I'll
say you were really gentle with me. They probably won't be too mad."

"Nononononononono, you can't, I would--"

"You would what?"

"I'll lose...I'll lose..."

"Everything." The boy rolled his eyes. He suddenly twisted sideways and
shoved Calvin with surprising strength. The young man, still tipsy and
with his pants down, stumbled sideways and fell, landing hard on his ass
in the tub.

"Please," Calvin muttered as he clutched at his head, "please no,
pleasepleaseplease, you can't, please, oh my god, nonononono please..."

Wyatt swept the curtain aside, stepped into the tub after him, and
crouched down. He took hold of Calvin's cock and started rubbing it
deliberately up and down as he spoke. "You can relax. I'm not going to
tell."

"You're not?"

"No, stupid," he sneered. "Why would I? Then I wouldn't get to have my
fun." For a while, everything was silent except for the slick sounds of
Wyatt jerking the stiff pole in front of him. His face got closer and
closer to Calvin's as the pace of his hand quickened. Now they were
practically nose to nose. Calvin caught a whiff of fennel toothpaste. He
leaned forward without thinking and tasted the little mouth.

Wyatt's hand froze. He pulled back. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Calvin replied, not untruthfully.

"You kissed me."

Calvin didn't know what he was doing, but his body knew. He pulled Wyatt
back into him and kept kissing the boy. He needed it.

Wyatt sighed. He wrapped his arms around Calvin's neck and curled up in
his lap. They kissed each other and lost count of the kisses.

Finally, Wyatt broke away again. "But I'm being so mean to you."

Calvin snorted. "I know."

"And you still want to kiss me?"

"...I guess so."

For a second, a fleeting wisp of a second, that wide-eyed boy was back,
staring at him. Then the smirk returned. "Wow, you're dumb. What, do you
love me or something?"

"Shut up." Calvin flicked him on the ear. "You can jerk me off, I can
kiss you."

"Oh, is that the rule?"

Calvin braced his hands on the tub edge and pushed himself up and out,
rising shakily to his feet. "Kid, I think we're way past rules." He
picked Wyatt up under the armpits and lifted him onto the vanity. The boy
sat there comfortably as he reached for Calvin's cock and resumed his
stroking.

"Kiss me again, loser."

"Oh, now you want me to?"

"Come on, if you love me so much." He made a grotesque face as he spat
the word "love" like unchewed gristle.

Calvin leaned in and the two began to kiss once more. Open-mouthed and
frantic, like hungry cats. That sweet hand still working the hard pole
back and forth.

Suddenly, the sweetness of the kiss turned to a sharp sting of pain and
Calvin jerked back with a cry. He brought a finger to his lip and found a
drop of red.

He gaped at Wyatt.

The damned kid just laughed, delighted with himself. A high-pitched
cackle that went on and on and on until he slumped back against the
vanity mirror and sighed contentedly.

Calvin frowned. "All right, this is...y'know what? I think they're going
to miss me downstairs." He tugged his underwear and pants back up.

"Why would they miss you? Didn't you say you were an intern?"

"Fuck you." Calvin flicked the boy again. The drunken fog had begun to
lift, though he was still lightheaded. "Somebody's going to notice my
empty seat." He zipped his pants, turned, and put his hand on the
doorknob.

All of a sudden, a burst of water struck him in the back.

He turned in disbelief. Wyatt was still sitting on the sink, left arm
reaching out to grip the tub faucet handle. In his right hand, he was
holding the showerhead, extended from the wall on a metal hose.

Calvin blinked. "What is the matter with you?"

Wyatt grinned like a rat as water trickled from the showerhead. "If you
go downstairs," he drawled, "I'm going to follow you." Calvin stared at
him, this boy with his little legs dangling off the vanity like he was on
the exam table at a doctor's office. "I'm going to crawl into your lap
and pull your dick out and keep going where we left off."

"OK, do your parents know?"

"What?"

"That you're a slutty little troll."

"My parents don't know anything."

The two of them stared into each other's eyes, leaning closer and closer
until their noses were inches apart again. Then they both giggled. Wyatt
let the showerhead fall from his hand; it clattered into the tub. He
reached forward, unzipped Calvin's fly, and fished the intern's cock out
of the waistband of his underwear.

Calvin slipped off his still dripping blazer and hung it on a hook on the
bathroom door, next to a yellow hooded terrycloth bathrobe. Then he
leaned down and started to lick the boy's neck. Wyatt stiffened and
groaned. He tasted sweet and salty, like a soft ocean breeze. Calvin
licked and licked, and Wyatt purred. The boy was his good little self
again. He reached up and dug his nails lightly into Calvin's back,
clawing at him like a baby animal. Calvin gently closed his teeth on the
flesh of the tender neck, and Wyatt squeaked sharply. Then, he suddenly
vaulted off the vanity and hopped to the floor.

"Didn't you like that?" asked Calvin.

Wyatt's eyes narrowed again and he let out his maddening snicker. The
other face was back, like a sick little goblin. "It was all right."

"Wow. You were clearly enjoying yourself there."

"I'll let you know if I want more."

"Let me know if...? OK, cut that shit out. You're not the boss of me."

Another snicker. "Yeah, I am. Dumbass."

"Listen, you little twerp--uh--ungh--mmmmmmmm--"

Calvin had to stop talking because Wyatt had leaned forward, opened his
mouth, and slurped halfway down the length of his dick. The kid began
bobbing his head up and down with practiced movements, Calvin's cock
sliding effortlessly into his throat. After several minutes, Wyatt pulled
off of the spit-slick shaft, looked up, and grinned. Calvin grinned back,
knelt down, and kissed him again.

Wyatt lowered Calvin's pants and underwear, gently pushed him back to sit
on the floor, and went to work once more on his hard pole. He alternated
between pounding it in the grip of his little fists and sinking his mouth
all the way down on it until his nose was buried in Calvin's soft, dark
pubic bush.

Calvin closed his eyes and ran his hands through the kid's thick, soft
locks of hair. Time grew slippery and hazy.

Finally, Wyatt disgorged the meaty tool. He raised his head to meet
Calvin's gaze, hiccupped, and burped. A little drop of saliva ran down
his chin. He didn't wipe it away.

"See?" he said. "I told you I was the boss of you."

"How did...how can you--"

"What, swallow the whole thing? It's not like it's that big or anything."

"OK, you know what?" Still a bit buzzed from the alcohol, Calvin reached
out and yanked down Wyatt's sailboat pajama bottoms. Underneath, he was
wearing a little pair of white briefs striped with lemon yellow. Handling
him like a ragdoll, Calvin turned the boy over his knee and spanked him.
Just once. But it was enough.

Wyatt groaned, as he did when his neck was being licked, but louder and
longer. He craned his head around to look at Calvin, and his eyes were
big as fishbowls. His sweet face had returned.

"Why did you...why did you do that?" he whispered.

"Because you deserve it. You're a fucking smart-mouth. And I'm tired of
you bossing me around."

"I'm sorry," said Wyatt. "I'll stop. I promise. Just do that again."

"What, this?" Calvin smacked the other butt cheek.

Wyatt groaned again. "Yes! More!"

"Only if you ask nicely."

"Please!"

"Please what?" Calvin was running his hand over the smooth fabric of the
stripey underpants.

"Please spank me."

"Where?"

"On...on the butt."

Calvin swatted him again, moving back to the first cheek.

"Who's the boss of you?"

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. Who's the boss?"

"You are!" Wyatt hissed. "Now, please, Calvin! More!"

Calvin slapped him again and again, alternating cheeks, and Wyatt moaned
with each impact. "So this is the kid's thing," he thought. "This is how
you control him."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Calvin and Wyatt froze.

"Sweetie?" called a muffled voice. "Is everything all right?"

Wyatt grew pale. "Uh, yeah, Mom! I'm fine!"

"You don't sound fine. It sounded like you weren't feeling very well. Is
your tummy hurting?"

"No, really, it's not!"

"OK, then finish up in there and go back to bed." Footsteps receded down
the hall.

"That was close," whispered Wyatt.

"Yeah, close because you're a little loudmouth."

"I'm sorry. It just felt so good. That always happens."

"Always?" Calvin frowned. "You've done this before?"

Wyatt narrowed his eyes, a flicker of his nasty self creeping back onto
his face. "Did you think it was my first time?"

"I guess not. Now stand up."

Wyatt stood, pants around his ankles. Calvin looked at him for a moment,
admiring the view. The boy's hair was tousled wildly. His skin was
flushed with sweat. And his striped underwear was tented unmistakably
forward. Calvin reached forward, hooked his fingertips into the yellow
elastic waistband, and slid them slowly down. When they got below the
thighs, they dropped all the way. Wyatt stood before him, naked from the
creamy white waist down. His hairless penis jutted outward fully erect,
an adorable, angry little upturned spike. Underneath were two
marble-sized balls, snug in their sack. Calvin couldn't help leaning
forward and taking the whole package in his mouth.

It was just as sweet and salty as the skin of his neck had been.

He sucked Wyatt for a few minutes, the room silent except for the boy's
deep breaths. Then he spun him around. There were his beautiful bare butt
cheeks, still flushed from their earlier punishment. He took them gently
in his hands and pried them apart, revealing a tight little hole, all
smooth and pink. Calvin leaned in and began licking it softly.

Wyatt moaned again.

"Be quiet," Calvin whispered. He kept on licking and lapping at Wyatt's
hole. Sweet and salty. Wyatt was leaning forward now, trying to
simultaneously brace his hands on the wall and thrust his hips back at
Calvin's open mouth. Calvin pulled him back, holding the slender hips as
he let the boy ride his face. The kid did his best to muffle his moaning
and groaning.

Calvin let go of the plump little buttocks, allowing them to spring back
together. Then he swung his hand back and landed a sharp smack on the
right cheek. Wyatt squealed loudly and clapped both hands over his mouth.
Calvin paused for a moment and watched his bright red finger-marks slowly
fade into view. The boy bent all the way over and placed his hands on the
floor, waiting expectantly. Calvin switched hands and dealt a hard slap
to his left cheek. Soon, a pair of cherry-red handprints graced Wyatt's
rosy little rear end. Calvin went back to probing the little hole with
his tongue, swiping occasionally outward to sooth the stinging cheeks
with his soft licks.

"Hang on," Wyatt said suddenly. Calvin pulled away and sat up. He looked
on quizzically as the boy stepped out of his pajama bottoms and underwear
one leg at a time and climbed up onto the edge of the tub, facing the
wall. "OK, you can go back to..."

"To..."

"You know. Kissing my butt. Please?"

Calvin knelt below the half-naked boy and pulled him down into a
squatting position. Again, the boy was riding his mouth, but this
position allowed that smooth hole to spread right open for his invading
tongue.

Wyatt was mewling like a little lost kitten. "Put a finger in," he
grunted suddenly.

"Think you can take it?"

"Yes, I can take it. Come on!"

Calvin reached up and probed with the middle finger of his left hand at
Wyatt's little asshole. He pushed gently inward, and suddenly he slipped
through. The tight ring gripped him hard for a moment, and he wondered
whether he'd only get in up to the first knuckle. Then he heard the boy
breath deeply outward, as if he were being coached by a yoga instructor,
and the hole loosened. Calvin smiled, picturing a serene yoga class full
of boys squatting over men's penetrating fingers. Then he pushed, and his
finger slid all the way in.

In and out. Back and forth. Calvin found the prostate and began to wiggle
his fingertip on the little button, causing Wyatt to gasp.

"Another finger," the boy whispered.

"Another?"

"Yes! Hurry up; I need it!"

"God, you're spoiled."

"Fucking yeah, I'm spoiled," the little weasel shot back. "Have you seen
my house? Another finger!"

Still kneeling, Calvin slid in a second finger. Wyatt groaned through
gritted teeth but said nothing.

Back and forth went both fingers. He couldn't believe how easily the kid
was adjusting.

"Keep going. What are you waiting for?"

Calvin didn't say anything, but he carefully slid another finger in
alongside the first two.

"Whew," breathed the boy, feeling the intrusion. "Whew. Huh. Hah.
Nnnnnnnffffffffff." The three fingers moved in and out, stretching his
young hole incredibly. After barely more than a minute, he said, "More."

"No. This is ridiculous. You have three fingers up there. I'm not putting
my whole goddamn hand in your ass."

Wyatt giggled. "You scared?"

"No, you little perv. It's just...I might hurt you."

"You're not gonna hurt me. It's fine. Anyway, this is probably good
enough."

"Good enough for what?"

"To loosen me up. Three is about the thickness of your dick, right?"

Calvin's jaw dropped. "Wait, you want--"

"What?"

"You want me to put my--"

"Your dick. Put it in."

"In your ass?"

"No, in my fucking ear. Yeah, my ass. Let's go, dummy."

"I don't think I...listen, it's been fun playing around, but I--"

"You what?"

"I can't...I can't fuck you."

"Do you need me to draw you a map or something?"

"No, it's just...I mean...that would be going...too far."

"Wowwwwww." Wyatt's sarcastic drawl was back. "So you'll kiss me like a
French whore, slide your dick down my throat, spank me on both butt
cheeks, and lick my hole till I'm begging for more. That's all fine. Now
you have three of your fingers inside my ass. And that's fine too. But
you can't just stand up and pop your dick inside me real quick?"

"I'm sorry, did you say a French--"

"Stand up," the little boy commanded coldly. Calvin obeyed. "Get out of
those pants." Calvin kicked off his loafers and stepped out of his
bunched pants. He now had on only his white button-down shirt, his black
tie, and his black socks; Wyatt, still perched on the edge of the tub,
was wearing nothing but his pajama top. The sailboats looked serene
against the blue sky, Calvin thought. His cock, which had deflated during
the preceding interchange, swelled once more. He stood there, fingers
still shoved up inside the boy, not sure what to do.

"Come on, stupid, I made it so easy. I'm serving my ass up to you on a
platter." He had to admit, with Wyatt on the tub, his ass was exactly at
the height of Calvin's waist. The height of his dick. "Well?" the kid
said impatiently.

"I..."

"Fuck. Me."

"No!"

"Look, it's not a big deal. I've done this before."

"You have?"

"I already told you that. Plus, I've had a lot bigger than you."

"Bigger..."

"Bigger dicks!" snapped the little devil. "Wow. Honestly, you're such a
moron, you probably couldn't even figure out how to put your skinny
little prick in my--wha--hunngghh!"

Wyatt's words were cut short by Calvin, who had lost his temper, yanked
his fingers out all at once, and stuffed his cock in through the still
open hole.

They stood there for a moment in silence, both a little shocked at
Calvin's sudden brute force. Then, Calvin whispered, "I'm sorry."

After a moment, Wyatt muttered, "What are you waiting for?"

Calvin shrugged and began swiveling his hips back and forth. The boy
grunted with every push, and Calvin wondered how much pain he was in.
Only the head of his cock seemed to be fitting. He bent his knees,
pulling Wyatt back down into a squatting position, and began thrusting
upward. That did the trick: little by little, his shaft inched up inside
the boy's tight, hot tunnel.

Soon enough, Wyatt's bottom was resting on Calvin's crotch. The boy
looked over his shoulder, panting, and grinned. "I told you I could take
it."

"Yeah, maybe this was a mistake."

"Oh my god, it was not. Keep going."

Calvin pushed Wyatt forward to lean on the shower wall again. Then, he
took a deep breath and began fucking.

It was indescribable, pushing in and pulling out, slowly and steadily,
gripped by the snug little sheath. Wyatt, without looking back, said,
"Come on, is that all you've got? Give me that skinny dick!"

"Oh, shut up, you little freak!"

Calvin began pistoning back and forth, holding onto Wyatt's hips and
driving his cock angrily in and out of the tight hole. This finally
seemed to please the boy, who started squealing with each thrust and
moaning, "Yeah, yeah, fuckme, fuckme, oh, oh, harder, yeah, fuckme,
harder, yeah!"

Just then, there was another knock on the door. Calvin stopped and stood
as still as he knew how, the flared ridge of his glans clutched inside
Wyatt's ass ring.

"Son?" Calvin knew that voice. It was Mr. Sutherland. His boss.

"Y-yeah, Dad?"

"Son, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! What are you talking about?" Wyatt was doing a surprisingly
good job of speaking as if his anus weren't impaled on a man's penis
while he addressed his father.

"Your mother told me you sounded sick in there. Is everything all right?"

"God, Dad! I told her I was fine! I'm just going to the bathroom."

"What were you saying just now, before I knocked? It sounded like--"

"I wasn't--I mean, I was talking to myself."

"Is there anything you need?"

"Nope, all good! Uh...can you please go now? I need my privacy."

"You sure you're not feeling sick?"

"Yes, I'm sure, I'm totallUNGH" Calvin had given Wyatt a hard thrust and
buried himself all the way inside. The boy whipped around, wide-eyed, and
gaped at him.

"What was that?"

"Dad, I'm trying to concentrRRRR" Calvin had pulled back and slammed in
again.

"Trying to what?"

"Dad, please, I'm OK! You don't have to--WHOAshitohshitohshit" Calvin was
gripping Wyatt around the torso and giving the boy a series of quick,
tiny jolts with his hips.

"Language, kiddo. Listen, I'll let you get back to it. Don't, uh...don't
strain yourself or anything." Sutherland's footsteps sounded as he went
back the way he had come.

"What the fuuuuuuuck was that for?" Wyatt hissed. "Did you want him to
find you? Do you not remember where your dick is?"

"Just a bit of payback," Calvin replied. "Quit being a little asshole."

"I dunno, you seem to like little assholes," the kid shot back.

"Ha ha, hilarious. I don't do this to every boy I meet, you know."

"Oh good, you can tell them that if they catch you in here. 'Don't worry,
everybody, this is my first time!' I'm sure it'll calm them all right
down."

Calvin rolled his eyes and resumed fucking. He built back up to a rapid
pace, and Wyatt began to moan, "Yes, yes, yes, ugh, give me more! More!
More!"

"You want more?" Calvin asked, slowing down a bit.

"Yes, more, more, more!"

"Then you gotta ask nicely."

"Please?" Wyatt's voice fluttered as he looked over his shoulder.
"Please, Calvin?" He was wearing his good face now, demure and plaintive
and hungry and desperate for more.

Calvin withdrew his cock entirely. The little hole stayed open, quivering
at the sudden emptiness. Then, he poked the head of his dick back through
Wyatt's butthole.

"Mmmmmmmmyessss," Wyatt cooed.

Calvin pulled out with a dainty popping sound and pushed back in again,
causing Wyatt to moan and tremble.

Again. Again. Pop. Pop. The boy's tight sphincter snapping over the head
of his penis with each reentry.

Then he pulled out all the way and paused, rock-hard erection bouncing
with anticipation.

"Keep going," whispered Wyatt.

He began rubbing his cockhead all over the little hole, gently massaging
Wyatt's ass from the outside.

"Come on, I need you back inside me," panted Wyatt.

Calvin kept swirling his cock around and around in lazy circles, denying
the boy his pleasure.

"Please, Calvin, I--"

Without warning, Calvin stabbed his cock through Wyatt's tight little
pucker and squished it all the way in with a single push.

Wyatt gasped, a huge, shuddering breath.

Calvin resumed fucking, plowing the little kid for all he was worth.

In and out. In and out. It was so easy now.

"Calvin, I think you're gonna make me cum," Wyatt said. "Please keep
going!"

Calvin pulled him back away from the wall, standing him upright on the
tub edge. His dick was now prodding Wyatt's greedy little prostate with
every thrust. Faster and faster he went, his pelvis slapping wetly
against the boy's pert backside.

"Oh, I'm close," sang the boy. "I'm close I'm close I'm close I'm
close--"

Calvin stopped. "Not so fast. I'm not letting you cum."

"What?" the kid asked, startled. "You have to!"

"Nope."

"Whyyyyyyy?" he whined.

"Because. You've been a bad boy."

"OK, fine. I apologize. Jesus." He craned his neck over his shoulder. The
ugly face was back in full force. "Now fuck me, idiot. I was almost
done."

"Not good enough." He pulled all the way out of Wyatt, whose hole gave a
loud slurping noise, winked a few times, and then stayed wide open and
pulsing. The kid turned around the tub ledge and his startled expression
gave Calvin a morsel of grim satisfaction. He was clearly not used to
being denied like this. Calvin finally had the boy right where he wanted
him. "I don't know what's wrong with you. Half the time you're the cutest
angel. And then half the time you're a demonic little creep. It's messing
with my head, and I'm tired of it. I'm not letting you push me around
anymore, you little two-faced brat."

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me. Two-faced brat."

Wyatt put his hands on his hips, one evil eyebrow cocked upwards. "Well,
OK. Looks like it's time for me to head downstairs. 'Mom, Dad, there's a
bad man in my bathroom! He took off his clothes and made me touch him!'
That should go over well, don't you think?" The smug little gargoyle
leered at his own foul idea.

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I? You have no idea what I would or wouldn't do. Did you ever
think you were in control here? Do you ever think you're in control
anywhere? God, you're such a loser! Now, are you gonna stick that dick
back in and finish me off or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson you'll
be learning for the rest of your pathetic little--"

Calvin slapped Wyatt hard across the face.

What had he done?

The two of them froze for what seemed like an eternity.

Then, the little boy looked up at him and began to cry. "I'm s-sorry,
Calvin!" he wailed. "I don't know w-why I'm so mean! I just..."
Shuddering and sobbing, he covered his face as tears streamed from his
eyes. "These horrible things come into my head and I j-just, I say them,
and..."

"Hey, hey, hey," Calvin pulled him in close and gripped him in a bear
hug. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I don't know wh-what's wrong with me! Oh my god, you m-must hate me!"

"Shhhhhh, shhhhh, it's OK."

Wyatt gripped him around the waist and bawled. He was shaking. Calvin had
never felt so sorry for anyone in his entire life.

They stayed there together for a long time, Wyatt still standing on the
edge of the tub with his face buried in Calvin's chest, until the sobs
faded into little hiccuping gasps. Then Calvin tilted Wyatt's chin up,
brushed the hair from his eyes, and gently wiped away the tears. The boy
rose up on tiptoe, locked his hands behind Calvin's neck, and kissed him
softly.

"I'm sorry," whispered the little cherub. "You're really nice. And your
cock felt amazing inside me! It's so big and thick. It opened me up wider
than anything. I was just kidding before when I said--"

"Shh," whispered Calvin. "Turn around." Wyatt obeyed. Calvin placed the
tip of his dick at the moist pink hole, gripped the slender little hips,
and pushed. He slid all the way inside Wyatt in one smooth motion and
began fucking him with powerful, deliberate strokes.

"That's so good," moaned Wyatt. "Faster, please. I love it."

The young man picked up the pace, and his cock began to squelch with
every thrust. Tingly waves were beginning to ripple from the tip of his
glans out into his whole body. His balls tightened and pulled themselves
up alongside the shaft.

"Yeah! Fuck me! Make me cum! Can you do it, Calvin? Please? Push that
button inside me. Push it with your thick cock!"

Calvin bent his knees, wrapped his arms around his skinny young lover,
and pulled him tightly upright, slamming his tool inside the wet hole and
mashing the boy's prostate over and over. Wyatt's little feet left the
tub, his entire frame clutched in Calvin's sweaty arms.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease..." whispered Wyatt in ecstasy.

"Can you feel me pushing your button?" Calvin growled in his ear.

"Oh, yes...oh, yes...oh, yes..."

"I'm making you cum."

"Oh my god! Calvin, you're doing it! You're making me cum!"

"Get ready."

Calvin grabbed Wyatt by the thighs and bent the kid's knees up to his
chest. Then he leaned back and sat on the vanity, sliding the folded
little boy up and down on his aching cock.

"I'm...I'm cumming!" Wyatt's nail-hard erection began twitching and
pulsing, straining to pump out a liquid his tiny balls had not yet begun
to produce. Meanwhile, his ass muscles clenched and squeezed, gripping
Calvin's dick and milking it all the way to orgasm.

Calvin groaned, whole body trembling, as he fired a blast of cum deep
inside Wyatt. Again. Again. Again.

"Are you shooting?" Wyatt squealed. "Are you shooting inside me?"

Gripped in the throes of his climax, the young man couldn't answer,
except for another groan. His vision clouded and his ears rang as his
cock emptied itself inside the little boy's guts. Again. Again.

Finally, his head cleared.

Legs still quivering, Calvin stepped carefully into the tub and sat down
with the boy on his lap. Wyatt leaned forward and began pulling himself
inch by inch off the slippery shaft. When he'd gotten about halfway,
Calvin's softening penis plopped out all by itself. Wyatt farted,
helpless to close his hole after such a thorough stretching. "Sorry," he
said earnestly, looking over his shoulder. Then he began to giggle
uncontrollably, and Calvin couldn't help joining in.

They took off their remaining clothes and showered, Calvin tenderly
washing the kid's slender frame. When they were done, Calvin sat on the
tub edge with Wyatt standing between his legs. He toweled the boy gently,
drying every inch of his body.

Wyatt retrieved a blow dryer from the cabinet under the sink and Calvin
dried the boy's soft, wavy chestnut-colored hair, gently spinning him
around to cover all sides. After he had dried his own hair as well, the
two of them got dressed.

They stepped carefully out into the dark hallway and looked around. The
jazz was still playing downstairs, a bit livelier now. No one could hear
them from inside the busy dining room.

"Well," Calvin said. "This was..."

"Yeah," said Wyatt. "Good night." He smiled, turned around, and started
to walk back down the hall.

"Hey," Calvin called. "Maybe...I dont know...maybe I'll come up and see
you at next year's gala?"

"Next year's gala?" The boy gave a little smirk. "Are you kidding? I'm
going to develop a sudden interest in visiting Dad's office. Really
soon."

"You--you are?"

"Yep. He's always busy, though, so he'll probably assign an intern to
show me around. If I ask nicely, he'll let me pick which intern. It's a
big campus. There are so many floors, you know? So many places to learn
about. Conference halls and office suites and executive bathrooms."

Calvin chuckled. "That sounds...wow. See you soon, I guess."

Wyatt marched back toward his bedroom door. Then he paused, one hand on
the doorknob, swathed in the dim light of the hallway. He looked back
over his shoulder. And his eyes narrowed into slits.

"See you soon...idiot."