Date: Sun, 11 Mar 2007 16:56:18 -0600 From: Charles Hughes Subject: Tyler Becomes a Man - Chapter 6 (t/b A/b oral anal) The story is completely fiction. This chapter will begin the adult-boy relationship between an adult and a preteen. If you don't like this kind of material or if you're not of legal age to read it, you may not continue. Copyright 2007 by Charles Hughes, all rights reserved. If you wish to copy it, please, just ask. I will try to respond to all emails: the.empty.room@hotmail.com Tyler Becomes a Man - Chapter 6 (t/b A/b oral anal) Yes, it was sex. And sex between a little seven-year-old and a 15-year-old was forbidden. But it was also love, that I knew for sure now. How can love be forbidden? How can it be stopped? I was just an ordinary teenager, but I had found myself in the middle of a timeless mystery. Tyler and I continued to see each other when we could. We talked more about our homes, about what school might bring in the fall, about boy things, about teen things. We talked about man things, things he wanted to know to become a man. And when we made love -- in my bedroom, his treehouse, and, when necessary, in the shed -- it was much more than sex for both of us. Somehow, in some way, a teenager and a little boy were genuinely in love. And that's what made his departure so very agonizing. I found him crying almost uncontrollably on the stone bench in the garden one afternoon. Between sobs he told me that they were moving, that his father had taken a new job, that in just two weeks they would be gone. There was no one at his house, so we went to his treehouse. It broke my heart. It was so unexpected. It would be life-changing. It was a hateful thing they were doing to us. I was more the little boy then than I had been in a long time. We cried together. I said things to assure him he would be all right, but I knew they were all empty words. Or, maybe he would be okay. Maybe he would soon forget what we meant to each other. He was just a boy. There was lots of living for him to do. But I knew I would not forget. The pain only grew in my chest as those weeks passed. We made love nine times in those days, including a few afternoons in the shed where we could only suck each other. I had yearned for the time when I could fuck him. I was realistic enough to recognize my selfishness. I could not fuck my little treasure now; he was much, much too young for that, far too small not to be hurt physically. So I cried for a loss Tyler was too young to even imagine. The day they left I spent in my room. My parents thought I was sick, and I was. I determined that my life would continue as best it could, and when school resumed in the fall I really put myself into things. I was so lonely. Then in my senior year I met a guy in my class; we enjoyed sex with each other, and I felt no guilt for it. In college I found, in my second year, a few friends who were like myself -- in that they were gay, anyway. I didn't dare speak to anyone about my attraction to boys. In my third year, one of them and I became, more or less, a steady thing. It was not love, though we genuinely liked each other. And our sex was wonderful. I gave him my virgin ass, and he gave me his. I finished college in three years. I had taken courses for college credit in my last year in high school, and by taking everything I could in three summers, I graduated a year early. I had worked at the college library part-time, and I decided I liked it. I looked into graduate schools that offered a Masters in Library Science, but it would be impossible for me to continue immediately. A variety of circumstances brought me back to my hometown. Without a lot of hope for it, I had applied for employment at a few libraries, and to my surprise my hometown library hired me -- with the proviso that I would work toward my MLS at the same time. That was certainly workable -- with an income and some scholarships. My father had died during my years in college. My mother, who was not well anyway, finally decided she didn't want to live in that house any more. When I got my new job, she moved to lived with my aunt several states away. She left me the house. So, at the age of 20, I had a place to live and a new job and a pathway to a career I would enjoy. The house was in good shape - my father had always seen to that - but there were a number of little repairs that just had not been taken care of after his death. I moved in at the first of July, and I had two months before my job started to work on the house. The first thing I did was make my old room a study; that involved buying an old desk and building some bookcases. I would use the master bedroom, which was large and would be bright with a new coat of paint. I bought a king-sized bed , which fit well in the large room. I decided the living room was the first thing I'd tackle, though, after the study. I saved some of the larger pieces of furniture; I couldn't afford to buy very much until my employment began. I had just about finished the first coat of paint one very hot afternoon when the doorbell rang. I found a tow-headed boy standing there, his bike leaning against the railing. "Hi," he said. "Hi," I responded, waiting for the sales pitch, the mister-can-I-mow-your-lawn-for-you. He was looking down at the porch floor as though he were embarrassed. Not a very good salesman. "Um...you don't remember me," he stated. He moved some of his hair away from his face and looked up at me. His hair. The eyes. Jesus Christ! My god! It was Tyler! My Tyler! "Tyler!" I threw the screen door open so quickly he had to duck back to keep from being hit. He ran through the door and threw his arms around me. We were both talking at once, and I have no idea what either one of us said. We hugged and stepped back to look at each other, then hugged again. "I wonder if maybe you still lived here..." he started again. "What are you doing here..." I began. And we both laughed. "Now, one at a time," I smiled, pulling him to the plastic-covered couch. "What are you doing here? You moved...?" "But we just moved back, Chuck. Just did. See, my folks got a divorce, and my mom wanted to live here... No, not in the old house; we got a house on the other side of downtown. We just moved in last week. I biked over here first thing, but I didn't see anybody around. I came back today, just in case..." "Oh, Tyler, it is so good to see you! What a fine young man you're becoming!" He laughed. "Well, not yet, but maybe some day. Boy, you...I mean, you're bigger...I mean, like... wow!" "Well, I'm 20 now, Tyler. How old are you?" "Twelve. I'll be in the seventh grade in the fall." He gave me that grin I had seen so often so long ago. "So I'm not really a man yet." I stood him up in front of me. Not a little chubby boy, that was certain. His shoulders were wider and strong. His chest tapered to a trim waist -- no chubbiness there -- around which he'd fastened a belt. His shorts revealed strong, tanned legs. He was a vision. But he was... Well, it had been five years. Lots can happen, change, in five years. I explained to him how I had come to be back and told him I was doing some things to the house before my new job began. He was excited about both the house and the job, truly happy for me. I showed him around, and he recognized my study as my old bedroom. As he looked over the shelves I'd added above my new desk, he did a double-take. "That's...that's Mickey. I mean, the one I brought you..." "...from Disney world," I finished for him. "You kept it!" "Of course, I kept it, Tyler. All through high school it stood on my dresser; then I took it to college with me. Mickey's got quite an education!" His broad smile told me he was pleased. When we got to my new bedroom, he commented on the double bed. I didn't say anything. At least, he'd noticed. Since the living room was in such a mess, we went into the kitchen to sit and talk. We covered those five years pretty quickly. Our talk began with the superficial things and only later became a little more personal. I was reluctant to get as personal as I wanted; he was five years older. The world can change in five years. As we finished the soft drinks I'd brought out, our conversation slowed, and things seemed just a little awkward for the first time. Then there was some silence. He was looking down at the table, using his finger to draw little circles with the condensation from the drinks. "Chuck...I want to..." and his voice became a whisper. "Chuck, I need to know... do you still...love me?" His voice became the tiny little sound I remembered. I felt a sudden ballooning in my chest as I drew a long breath. "Tyler...honey...I told you I would always love you. I meant that. I do." He looked up at me with little-boy eyes, the eyes I had dreamed about since...before. He jumped up and ran to my chair, falling into my arms. His tears were not those of a little boy. They were the tears of a 12-year-old boy lost in the discovery that he was still loved. My tears were not those of a teenager but of a man who just realized how strong his love for a boy can be. I cried with him, our arms clutching each other tightly. "Ch...Ch...Chuck...I was afraid...I thought maybe you...it was so long..." he said between his tears. "So long, yes, my little man. But not long enough to make me forget you." I couldn't say anymore, because his lips were on mine, and suddenly we were kissing with a tenderness that only caused my tears to flow. I clutched him tightly. "Make love to me, Chuck, please..." he whispered. Maybe I shouldn't have. But I had no choice. I picked him up and carried him into the bedroom; I placed him in the middle of that huge bed. I shed my t-shirt and paint-covered jeans and kicked my shoes off. I was on my knees beside him in my briefs. As he reached to unbutton his shirt, I placed my hands on his to stop him. He pulled his hands away and smiled through his tears. I wanted to undress him. I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open. His skin was almost chestnut brown, glowing with a new summer tan. His nipples were dark, but they were now hard and tight. They were like blossoms. His skin was so smooth under my touch as I stroked slowly down from his collarbone to his bellybutton. I unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his fly. He smiled when he saw my surprise at his bright blue briefs. I pulled his shoes and socks off, then pulled his jeans off. Such a lovely boy! Yes, a little man. But still a boy. I caressed his thighs, and the bulge in his briefs grew noticeably. I cupped that mound and felt the heat of him. "Oh, yes, Chuck...please...please..." I pulled his briefs down slowly, and his dick suddenly popped out when it cleared the waistband. It was his dick! I would know it anywhere. I had dreamed of it so often, jacked off to the memories. Bigger, perhaps almost four inches, a dick of which any 12-year-old could be proud. He was still hairless. I stroked his pubic mound and felt the virtually-invisible tiny hairs that would soon grow longer and darker for him. I cupped his balls, those of a boy-not-yet-a-man, perhaps a bit lower and bigger than before, but still like small marbles in his sac. He was whimpering, begging for the attention of a man who loved him, a man who knew how to love him. I stroked his dick with my fingertips; with my other hand I stroked his chest and played with his nipples the way he had loved before. His wiggling pushed his dick at my hand, and I lowered my head to the feast I of which I'd been deprived for so long. The second my lips kissed the tiny hole in his cockhead, he sighed. "Yes...yes...yes..." I engulfed his cock in my mouth, moving my tongue up from the base of it to the sensitive spot under his cockhead. That was all it took. As he released a strangled gasp, his dick thrashed in my mouth, once, twice. And a lovely taste filled my mouth, a taste so fresh, so...so...boy...! I sucked deeply at his dick, and he shoved it into me hard. Then he simply collapsed against the bed. "Tyler, sweetheart..." I rolled my tongue around inside my mouth as I raised up. "My god, honey, you came! That was...you gave me your cum." He smiled weakly. "Um...yeah. I can. Since summer began. Just happened. You taught me how good it would be. You were right. But it's better with you. Like before -- it's always better with you." He raised his hand and cupped my crotch. His warmth immediately passed through the thin cotton to my cock and balls. My little man. My sweet Tyler. He was back. We lay quietly on the bed, my arm around him and his head on my chest. After five years, perhaps we needed the silence to readjust to each other's presence, to think about our need for each other. "We can...you know...see each other, Chuck, right?" he finally asked. "I want to be with you." "And I want to be with you, honey. Oh god, it seems like it's been so long. And, with you beside me now, it seems like we were never separated." I stroked his hair; he'd let it grow longer than it had been, and it was thick and silky. "Can I come see you..." He wasn't certain just how we would arrange to get together. He wasn't from just around the corner any more, peeking through the fence to see me work in the garden. The garden. The house... "There is a way...we could do this. I'm really in a mess around here; I've still got two more rooms I want to get painted before I start work. And I need to pack up quite a bit of stuff. The garage needs a good cleaning out. I just planted a small garden, since it was really kind of late for planting when I got here. It will need tending. Thing is, Tyler, I could use some help. How about if I hire you to help me with things around here." "Sure, I'll help. And you don't have to pay me." "No, honey, what I mean is, you need a reason for being here - if you're going to be here a lot. That is the reason. I've hired you to help me get things together here. You come over so often because it's a job. You'll need to get your mother's permission to come over; she'll need to know why. Of course," I grinned, "nothing says we have to work every minute you're over here." "Sure!" he sat up with a smile from ear to ear. "She'd let me do it. I know she would. She'd like the idea of me making some money." "You'll need to explain how you saw me here, then stopped in to say hello, and that I offered you the job. And, Tyler, I think it would be a good idea for me and your mother to talk about it. I mean, she'll want to know who her boy is working for." We left it at that, and the next morning I got a call from Tyler's mother. She vaguely remembered me as the teen of the neighborhood when they had lived here before, but it turned out that she knew my mother very well -- they had been in the same bridge club. She invited me over to dinner that evening so the three of us could talk over my offer to Tyler. Yes, I was very nervous. I would be eating at the table of Tyler's mother, talking to her under a pretense about the son to whom I would make love. The eveing went well. She told me to call her by her first name, Marge, and the conversation over dinner was about the old neighborhood, my mother's health, how the town had changed, her new job with an insurance agency, and my new job with the library. Tyler was very quiet, smiling at me now and then, and the picture of politeness. In fact, the most difficult part of the evening was sitting at that table across from my little lover and treating him as though he were nothing more than a kid I wanted to hire. Just somebody who's dick I would suck eagerly...just another kid I would kiss deeply...just a boy who would delight having my cock in his mouth and my cum in his belly... My cock stirred in my pants several times during that meal. If that part of the evening had been some kind of test I must have passed, because by the time dessert was about over her comments moved to my offer to Tyler. She told Tyler he needed to get to his room and finish his homework, and I helped her carry things into the kitchen. I knew perfectly well that as soon as the dining room was cleared and we were safely in the kitchen for a while, Tyler would be right around the corner listening to every word. She washed, I dried, and we talked about Tyler. She was pleased enough about the job offer and said that, of course, Tyler could do it. But her conversation took a more serious turn. "It's just that after the divorce...it wasn't pleasant," she said. "It was difficult enough for Tyler, and then we moved here. He left his friends, his school. But the worst thing..." She dried her hands off and turned to face me. "The worst thing, Chuck, is that Tyler needs somebody. He has me, of course. But he needs a male figure in his life, somebody he can learn to trust, somebody who will help him by being a model of the man he's becoming. I think you're that person, Chuck. I'm just asking...will you be a friend to him, too, Chuck. He needs that badly." "Tyler seems to be a wonderful kid, and I'll be happy to be a friend to him," I said. "Maybe he just needs to be around somebody, like you said, somebody he can trust. Of course, I'll be his friend." She gave me a brief hug. "Thank you, Chuck. Your mother was always talking about you, about what a great boy you were. I think she was right. Come on, we'll finish our coffee in the dining room." I clinked the cups and rattled the pot just long enough to let Tyler get safely away from his spying. After some more general conversation, I said I needed to call it a night. She called Tyler down to say Goodnight. "The schedule we agreed on can begin tomorrow afternoon, Tyler," Marge said. "Okay?" "That'll be great, mom. Thanks!" Tyler said he'd walk me out to my car. On the way, he whispered, "So...you going to be my male figure?" I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye, and I turned and grinned right back at him. I knew we couldn't be heard that far away from the house. "No, honey. Not just a male figure. You'll see, tomorrow. I'm going to be your lover."