This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between a man and a young boy. The story is not true; the sexual acts described herein derive solely from imagination. It is not intended to promote illegal acts with/to/by underage boys, nor does it condone child abuse of any sort. If you object to the subject matter, stop reading. If your reading of this material violates laws in your place of residence or where you are currently located, stop reading. Thank you.
This story is protected by the copyright conventions of the United States.
My stories are pure fantasy. In this case, a young, online friend made an observation during a recent conversation. In "real life", he said, a boy and a man could see each other daily and long to be with each other, but chances are, they'd never share those desires and almost certainly never act on them. This story asks a simple question: "What if they did?"
Those who wish to comment may email me at email@example.com.
A note about editing: Having another's perspective during the writing process is invaluable. After reading Visitation, the Nifty writer, Hermes, urged me to post it, which I am now doing (and probably would not have without his enthusiasm). He has generously offered countless suggestions in polishing Visitation. For that I am grateful. Thanks, Hermes!
Also, a personal note to RG: In the past, you kindly edited a few of my stories. Due to a rather disastrous storage problem, I lost your contact information. I'd be pleased to hear from you again--if you are so inclined.
Part 1 of 2 parts
I love myself. And no, it's not what you think. (Though nothing wrong with that, either!) Let me explain. The truth is, at 40 years old, I didn't love myself. I figured I'd screwed up in about every way I could. I'd had a miserable life. And I was about to fix that once and for all. I didn't have the guts to go out like a man, so I opted to close the garage door, start up my old Ford Escort--which I hadn't been able to register for three months--and sit in it, windows wide open. It was painless, and it didn't take all that long.
Who was interrupting me in my journey to heaven or hell, probably the latter? I felt a hand on my shoulder. I struggled to open my eyes. I didn't remember it being so bright in my garage. I forced my eyes wide open, and then squinted.
A young boy, perhaps eleven or twelve leaned in through my window. I struggled to focus on him. Why now, I thought. After all these years of longing for a boy to come into my life, now that I'm dead, finally there is one. Except. I looked again, shielding my eyes from the brightness. Except the brightness is not surrounding the kid, it's coming from him. In my hazy thoughts, I suddenly knew this vision was an angel. "Huh?" I say, the best, I guess, a dead man can manage when he's got a wicked headache. Oh gawd, I am in hell, I realized.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Where am I?"
That seemed to stump the boy. "Um...in your car, sir."
"Why, I'm Joey..."
I began fading out again. "Joey," I repeated. "You're an angel, I guess."
"Gee..." the boy mumbled.
"I don't want to go to hell," I said. Like who would.
"You?" the boy muttered.
"I just couldn't help it. It was the only way out. My life was such a mess. From the time I was a little kid. It's just been one big fuck up. I never got to be what I was meant to be." I listened to myself. I wasn't even sure it made sense. "Hell, I even tried changing my name. I used to be Danny Devlin...It just didn't make any difference: Danny Devlin, Daniel Boyd...no difference. Nothing helps."
I squinted at the boy angel a moment longer. "Good question," I answered. "I'm not sure."
Joey shrugged and kept looking.
"Well...maybe I do know...Is that what you want to hear. I know...where I'm going, you have to tell the truth. Either place. Right? Okay...it goes back to when I was eleven or so. There was this man...and...well, if you have to know it was about sex."
I blinked hard and gazed at the apparition leaning into my car. He seemed...I dunno...uncertain how to proceed.
"Sex?" He swallowed hard. It was hard to see him surrounded by light the way he was. But he was cute as a button--just the way you'd expect an angel to be. Had I somehow reached my own personal heaven? Or was this the first steps on the road to my own person hell? Was he part of a supreme trap set by the ultimate judge in matters of life and death?
"Between you...like when you were a kid...and a guy?"
I snorted a bitter laugh, and my head pounded. It felt like it was going to explode. "That was a problem," I managed.
The angel nodded. "Sex? Like...real sex?"
"Bingo." For an angel, I thought, he seemed a little less than all-knowing.
"You mean like he was a...ped...a pedophile?"
I muttered, "I was hoping he was, angel boy."
"You had sex when you were eleven...with a man?"
For a moment, I wondered why an angel would be pressing about this. "Actually, I guess, I was more like twelve, and no, I didn't have sex. I wanted to, but I never got up the nerve to ask him. THAT was the problem. See?"
Joey swallowed. "You wanted to have sex?" His sweet, smooth face was filled with an expectant look; he seemed almost desperate.
I nodded. "But I didn't...and from that moment, things got screwed up." I drifted off again. I heard his words in the distance. "...back...back...mister...back when you were a boy..."
Back? Go back where? I thought, and then I realized. "Go back to my childhood?" I mumbled. "Go back," I repeated.
"...week" my angel was saying.
In my muddled brain, I was trying to make sense of what he was saying. It seemed like he was telling me to go back to my childhood for a week. That made even less sense than what I was thinking. Was he giving me a week to spend as a child again? I shook my head, trying to think more clearly. And then I was drifting off again. And everything faded.
"Mr. Boyd?" A different voice brought me back. I opened my eyes. "Are you all right?" My angel had gone. Through my blurred vision, I could barely make out a woman standing in a doorway. Her voice was eerily familiar. And there was something else. The smell of the place. It was somehow reassuring. It made me feel better.
"Yeah," I said. "Just one hell of a headache."
"Well, I don't doubt it, after taking a tumble like that."
What was she talking about? I struggled to make my eyes focus.
"Yes. Off that rickety old stepladder. I knew you shouldn't have used it. I'm so sorry, Mr. Boyd."
I knew that voice, and slowly, my eyes did come into focus. Oh my God. I was looking at my mother. I knew I was dead then because my mother died ten years ago, but this isn't my wizened, elderly mother; this is my mom from when I was a boy. I looked around, once the shock of being face-to-face with my mother had worn off. I know this room. This is--was--the spare room in our house, the room next to my room. But my mother was speaking again--and I always listened when Mom spoke.
"Not much of a welcome, Mr. Boyd. Here you are, my new boarder, and you offer to help fix the light, and the next thing you know, you're banging your head on the bureau. I dare say it could have been a lot worse, though."
"Yeah," I agreed. "You're right there, Mrs. Devlin."
With that, I hear the door slam downstairs. I know the sound. It's the front door; I slammed it thousands times as a kid. "Up here, dear," my mother shouts, and there're footsteps pounding up the stairs. And then I see him--I see me.
"Danny," my mother is saying, "This is Mr. Boyd, our new boarder. His name is Daniel, too."
I--Danny, that is, looked at me, and I knew immediately that he is me, no doubt. His eyes widened, and he gazed at me, allowing his eyes, just once, to flash down to my crotch. All those years of doing that and figuring no one ever noticed. Well, maybe not, if they weren't paying attention, but I was...and so was he, the little perv, that's for damn sure.
"Hi," Danny said, studying me carefully.
He--I--was a beautiful boy. Really. I never believed it, back then. As a kid, I figured I was a skinny, awkward kid, but from where I was now, I could see what I could never see in a mirror. What is it they say? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Somehow I always thought I was too "cute". Cute: that's what my aunts always said: "Isn't Danny just the cutest little boy you ever saw!" But somehow it always seemed like they were talking about a girl. And I didn't like that.
But gazing down on that face I knew what they meant. Brown, brown eyes, soft, brown hair, wavy more than outright curls, and baby-soft skin. I/he had a few light freckles over the bridge of the nose. His skin glistened, and I knew he'd run most of the way home from school. He was about average height for a boy that age, and he was thin. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him; his lithe body was all muscle. I was instantly in love--with myself (and there you have it: I was, as my Grandma might say, smitten). And I was beautiful...Danny was beautiful in a boyish sort of way...and the young eleven or twelve year old who stood before me, was all boy.
I gazed at the boy, wondering if he had any inkling who I was, and what I knew about his deepest, darkest secrets. As I stared, he almost seemed to become frightened. He pulled back and leaned in close to his mother. Oh, how many times I remembered doing exactly that.
That was my introduction to...me.
At supper, his mother asked me how I was feeling. I'd made a full recovery, and told her so. She explained to me that her sister would be coming over to watch Danny while she went to choir practice for her church. (I suddenly remembered Monday nights at my house.)
"Ahm...I'm going to be here, so...if she wants a night off..." I shrugged. "It's up to you." I glanced over at Danny. He seemed unsure, but the idea clearly wasn't a total turn off to him.
"Well," my mother replied, "I'll see. Maybe Helen would like a night off."
And that's how it was that at 7:30 Danny and I found ourselves alone in our house. He was in his room working on a school project.
"Everything okay?" I asked, sticking my head into his room, hoping to catch him (me) in some compromising position. He was lying on his bed, knees slightly bent, a book nestled in his crotch.
"Reading for school," he responded. He eyed me suspiciously. It was confusing to me, for my memory of my childhood, at least around my eleventh or twelfth year, was that I longed for the company of a man...though for the life of me, I couldn't remember how I began feeling that way or why. But Danny was clearly wary of me.
I left him to his reading and went into the spare room. I wondered how to begin the process--to accomplish what I wanted to do with him. Should I simply walk in and subjugate him, and show him a pleasure that--if I was remembering correctly--he only had the vaguest understanding of.
I sat down on the bed, and its springs reacted, making those tell-tale noises that get young, teen-aged boys giggling. Again, I tried to remember when I first understood what those jiggles (and giggles) were about, and if maybe at eleven years old, I'd have known yet.
Then I got an idea. I made sure the door was almost closed, but not latched. Thus a curious boy could carefully look through the narrow opening, or if bold enough even open the door a bit wider for a better view, but not so much as to reveal himself--except to someone watching the watcher.
I laid down on the bed. It squeaked appropriately. I didn't giggle, though it did bring a smile to my face. I allowed images of the boy in the room next to mine to fill my head. I should have had an easy time of it, but I found I couldn't remember myself as a child--at least not my genitals. I wracked my brain trying to remember just what I looked like as a young eleven year old, but it was hopeless. I couldn't ever remember trying, as a boy, to check my ass out. I can't ever remember looking in a mirror to see what I looked like back there. I realized just how unaware I was in those days of prepubertal bliss. I figured my cock would be appropriately small, maybe even puny, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember for sure.
To be honest, I couldn't even remember how much I knew about sex at eleven. When did I know about jerking off. Eleven? Twelve? Older? It was a long time ago. So I reverted to what I usually do when thinking about a cute little boy: I let my imagination go, and in my mind, I began to undress them. Now I did the same with Danny, and the effect was immediate: I began to harden. I lay in the bed, unzipped, and dragged my trousers and briefs down across my thighs. My hands found their way down to my pulsing seven and a half inches of cut cock and egg-sized balls.
Images of myself being undressed by me--how weird is that--filled my brain. I slowly began to jack off. With each stroke, the bed squeaked invitingly.
Between eyelids barely open, I'd periodically glance toward the door. I imagined a bored, easily distracted eleven year old whose ears suddenly perk up at the odd rhythmic sound coming from the room next door. I imagined him getting up off his bed and quietly approaching my door. I continued stroking myself, picturing Danny lying on the bed, but naked, and not reading a school assignment, but burning his gaze into some porn.
The next time I glanced at the door, I thought the tiny crack had opened a bit. I smiled, picturing another tight crack and opening it a bit, too. The small figure who was guiltily gazing in at my jerking pressed open the door even more. Now some of the light from my room seemed to illuminate him. His eye seemed to be open wide. I moaned softly and raised my hips slightly. I increased my motion. The knowledge that a young boy--even if it was me--was actually watching as I jacked off made me feel like I was about to explode. Another sly glance from me, and I could see his hand dropping slowly downward. His hand seemed to glide over his tummy, then onto his front. His fingers seemed to hesitate a moment, and then there was no doubt: he gently groped the hidden mound that was just hinting at what lay hidden inside his trousers. Again, that seemed to send a charge of electricity directly to my own cock, and I felt it throb ever harder.
I stopped now, and removed my shirt and pulled off my tee shirt and then lay back down. I started masturbating again as if my life depended on it, and in a sense (in my mind, anyway), perhaps it did. I glanced to see if Danny was still there; he was.
Now my hand was a blur. I saw small boyish fingers squeezing the cloth that covered his crotch. I moaned loudly now, and stiffened all over. I was sure the boy was about to get a show that he'd never seen--never even imagined--before tonight. One final stroke and my tool spat out the first bolt of hot, thick, creamy man cum. If I wasn't mistaken, Danny actually jumped and a soft, startled cry escaped from his mouth before he caught himself. I lay there for a moment, and slowly my tool began to deflate. Danny stayed, apparently glued to my every action. After a moment, I scooped up some of my cum and greedily sucked it down. I reached for some tissues and cleaned myself off. When I glanced back intentionally peering into his eyes, he quickly stepped back into the shadows, and was gone.
I checked in with Danny about an hour later--just before Mom was about to get back from choir. I walked in. He was still on his bed, and the book was open, but lay cover up on his chest. His eyes had drifted shut, and his hand was massaging his crotch, still jeans-covered.
"Easy there, sport, don't wear it out," I said. Instantly his hand dropped to his side, which was a mistake, because it revealed an obviously hard little cock hidden underneath his jeans. He grabbed his book and turned bright red. He glared at me like the intruder that I was.
"Hey, Danny, take it easy. I was just kidding." I knew his embarrassment was for what I'd just seen him doing, but also for his sneaking a peek at me in my private moment. Guilt had always been an unwelcome companion in my life. I studied him for a few seconds. "You okay?" I think he figured I wasn't going to leave until he answered.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"Look, what you were doing... It's the most natural thing in the world for a guy. Hell, I was just doin' it myself a while ago. It's great isn't it?"
He looked at me like he'd been shot. I could see he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. "Well," I said, "maybe you're a little young yet, but you just wait. You'll see."
He shifted uneasily under my gaze.
"Danny, really. It's okay. As normal and natural as breathing for us guys. We all 'play' with it." I winked at him and grinned as if to say, you know what I'm saying, don't you? When he didn't respond, I remembered something from my youth. I must have been just about his age. "Look," I began, "I didn't mean to barge in on you, but you find someplace private, maybe your fort up on that rise in the woods..."
Danny looked like he'd been shot. "How'd you know about my hideout?"
"Aww, Danny, every guy has a hideout," I said, hoping he'd accept a half-assed answer to his question. "but what I was going to say was...find a private place, and just see what makes you feel good. Okay?"
Danny nodded uncertainly.
"Oh, and if you've got any questions? You know, the kind you can't ask your mom, well just try me. If I know the answer, I'll tell you straight out, no hemming-'n-hawing." I winked at him again, and gave him a smile. He seemed a bit more relaxed now. "Deal?"
He nodded, and I turned and headed for the door.
"Um, Mr. Boyd?" I stopped.
He gazed into my eyes, swallowed once, ran that sweet tongue over his lips, and offered a soft, "Thanks."
"My pleasure, sport." And I was out the door.
The next day, Tuesday, was a bust. Danny had afterschool activities, and then a church dinner, and mom was around for it all. Wednesday was about the same. My week was rapidly disappearing.
Then, on Thursday, after school, I heard the routine door slam, and Danny called for Mom.
"She gone with your Aunt Helen to do some shopping," I said.
"Oh," he answered. "I think I'm...I'm going out to play." He swallowed hard and reddened under my gaze. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other "Um...out in the woods." Then he added deliberately (just in case I wasn't getting it), "In my fort." It was as if he were making an announcement: "Danny's first official jack-off session is about to commence!"
"Okay, I said, stifling a grin. "You better change your clothes, first. And...hang up your school clothes."
"Jeesh, Mr. Boyd. You sound just like my mom!"
I laughed. "I think she left cookies for you, too."
In no time, he was down in his play clothes, grabbing a few cookies and making a bee-line for the door. "Hey, sport," I said, "You seem like you're in one heck of a hurry. Got something special planned?" I raised my eyebrows.
The poor boy reddened clear up to his ears. I think he was actually debating whether to tell me exactly what he had planned.
"Go on, sport," I said, easing his discomfort, "have a good time."
Twenty minutes later I was out back, in the shed, sharpening the blades on our old hand-lawnmower. Suddenly it got a little darker and I looked up. Danny was in the doorway.
"What's up, sport," I said, glancing down at his small, barely visible package, then back up at his face. He blushed.
"You're weird," he muttered.
"Thanks," I said. He hadn't been gone long enough to do much, and I wondered if he'd had any "success".
He stood around as I worked, leaning against the door frame, then putting one sneakered foot on the other, then shifting and reversing his feet. I remembered that "dance"; he had something on his mind. "Danny, boy," I said after a few minutes. "You got ants in your pants, buddy?"
He smiled uneasily and shrugged.
"Um, Mr. Boyd," he said finally.
"Ya know, I think it'd be okay for you to call me Dan, if you want."
"Okay, um...Dan...that stuff you were talking about a couple of nights ago?"
"Yeah," I said, my heart suddenly thumping like a bass drum.
"Um...well...I...um...saw a...friend...playing...with...um...." He swallowed. "...his..." He glanced outside to be sure we were alone. "...thing." He was beet red.
"I hope he enjoyed himself," I leered.
His eyes widened. "I guess," he muttered.
"Well...I...um...tried...but...well...what's supposed to happen? I mean, how...I mean...well...you know." Here was one flustered and frustrated boy.
I had to smile. If he didn't know anything about jackin' off before, he did now, and it was clear, he needed a little help! Here I am--ready, willing, and able! But then I had another thought. "This friend," I began, "could you ask him?" He turned red clear up to his temples! I guessed right. I was his "friend". "Danny, I want to ask you something, and however you answer, I promise I won't be mad. I promise." I gazed into his beautiful eyes. He never flinched, but there was fear there, too. "The other night did you by any chance see me...ah...playing with my...thing?" He froze and actually trembled. "Danny, Danny," I whispered. "I reached out and stroked his smooth downy-soft arm. "It's okay."
Slowly he nodded.
I smiled. "Good," I said. "Thanks for being honest. That's good." A somewhat perplexed look spread across his face. "Really, I mean it, because at least now I know what you saw." I leaned toward him a little and dropped my voice. "And it felt awesome, by the way." I suddenly realized "awesome" wasn't a word we'd used as kids. "Really, really good. So...what did you think?"
"What were you doing?"
"What's it called, you mean?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I guess...sort'a."
"Well, it's got lots of names. The proper dictionary word is masturbation. But guys call it all kinds of things. I bet you've heard some of them: beating off, beating your meat, smoking the bone, stroking the lizard, jackin' off, jerkin' off. Lots of guys your age just say 'rubbing'." I smiled. His eyes were like saucers.
"What was that stuff that came out?"
"It's called semen...or sperm...actually there's sperm in the semen. Lot's of guys call it 'cum'. When a boy starts to grow an' get hair an' stuff down there, then they start makin' semen. And when it comes out, they say they're 'cuming'. The sperm comes from your balls."
He cocked his head as if to say no way!
"Really, Danny. They're regular little sperm factories, down there."
"Did you really like..." He swallowed. "...like put it in your mouth?"
I smiled. "Yep! I did! It's got a weird taste, but it kind'a grows on ya."
Now he seemed to get more serious, or at least more shy. "Um...Mr...Dan, I mean. If I like you know, did it, that stuff would come out of my balls?"
I knew what the answer was of course. He was no where near old enough to pop a load. But this was just the opening I needed. "Well, it's a little complicated." I glanced out beyond him to be sure we were still alone. He sensed the uncertainly.
"Maybe we should go back into the woods," Danny said wisely. He intuitively understood he wanted this to be between just him and me.
"Okay," I said. I put the tools away, and together we walked into the woods disappearing within 20 feet of the yard. We walked for another 50 yards or so and came to a clearing: There he'd built a little lean-to. I gazed down on it remembering my excitement as I planned it and put it together. Under the lean-to, he had gathered thick clumps of moss as a sort of bed. I motioned for him to sit down. I sat next to him.
"The sperm stuff, the cum," he said. "Can I do it?"
"Like I said, Danny, it's complicated. When a boy is about your age, he begins to grow. Sometimes it's a little younger, lots of time, it's older. Your body gets bigger, you get more muscles, you get hair under your arms, and other places."
"Like you, like around your thing?" He blushed.
"Exactly, and speaking of your thing...your penis--that's the official word--or cock or prick or dick, it get's bigger, too. And so do your balls--your testicles. That's puberty. They say a boy's entering puberty when that begins to happen."
"Mom says I'm growing a lot," he said hopefully.
I smiled. "Well...maybe you're just about to enter puberty. Anyway, this is all to say unless I...well...just looking at you like this...I can't tell for sure."
I could see the wheels turning. "Dan, um...is there another way...you know...to tell?" He trembled, already, I suspect, knowing the answer.
"Danny..." I stopped, apparently hesitating. "I'm not sure that'd be..."
He thought he knew where I was going, and he tried to head me off. "I'll show you, I don't mind!" He blushed again, the most delightful shade of red. Now I trembled along with him.
He nodded, but it was pretty clear he wasn't sure, but he was going to do it anyway. He was about to take the step that I'd never dared to take. Of course I was there to help him on his way--to offer him just the "encouragement" he needed. Way to go, Danny!
"Okay, stand up." I pulled his jersey out of his jeans. His little tummy was firm and flat. I lifted the shirt higher until I caught a glimpse of his little nipples. If I wasn't mistaken, they were erect. He held his shirt up as high as it would go.
I reached out and grasped his belt. I felt a tremor pass through him. I unbuckled his belt, the reached for the button of his Levis, and glanced back up at his face. He waited, but he made no move to pull away. He panted shallow, quick breaths. A vein in his neck pulsed in time to his heart. I unbuttoned his trousers, and then slowly lowered his zip. He held his breath. With just a light tug, his jeans fell down around his knees. He bent down and pushed them to his ankles. All that remained were his gleaming white pants--briefs--classic boy tighty-whities, nicely showing off the tiny package that until now had been mostly hidden. I placed my trembling fingers in his waistband and lifted, lowering his underpants past his genitals. He was completely hairless except perhaps for the tiny, nearly invisible hairs of childhood. His creamy white lower abdomen was bordered on either side by two pronounced creases that defined the end of his belly and the start of his legs. The creases, with him standing, now more shallow valleys, tapered gracefully from his hips downward and inward, a wide "V" shape, like arrows pointing to treasure. I pulled his undies all the way down, revealing his boyhood treasure. A tiny, inch-long flaccid circumcised (of course I already knew he was cut, didn't I!) cock, and a pouch with two swellings--hints of the testicles that would one day be the source of gallons of cum--but not for a long time yet.
"Can I?" Danny asked.
"Well, I don't think so, sport," I said, my gaze still locked on his sweet little boy package. "It'll be a while yet."
He looked crestfallen. "So, I can't...you know...make it do it."
"Well, Danny, there's good news and bad news. What do you want first?"
"The bad news," he said sullenly.
"If it's ejaculating--that's the technical term for shooting semen out of your dick--you're interested in, you're gonna have to wait."
"So, what's the good news, then?"
"When a man or boy ejaculates, it because he's having an orgasm. When a boy is mature enough to cum, it only happens when he has an orgasm.
"Yeah, your body sort of builds up to like this massive explosion, and then it happens, and if a boy is well into puberty, he'll shoot his semen."
"So, what's the good news?"
"Well even if boys can't shoot, they can still orgasm."
It took a second for that to sink in.
"They can?" he asked, eyes open wide!
"Yep." I said again with a smile.
"Yep, you! Right here and now, even."
He reddened, and the a shiver seemed to run through his body. "Now?" he said, the word catching in his throat.
I raised my eyebrows. "Uh-huh."
He thought about that for a while. As he did so, his little tool throbbed to life, extending from an inch or so, to fully three inches, perhaps even a little more. It was about the thickness of a Sharpie marker. "How? I mean, how do I make...get...an orgasm?"
"It might easier if I showed you. Nah, maybe not. Maybe I shouldn't."
"Dan," he said, sounding almost desperate. Trembling, he looked into my eyes. "You can."
"Really? You sure?"
He nodded. And then he grew very serious. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper. "I'd like you to do that to me, Dan."
I licked my lips. Finally after all these years, I was about to get my wish--both of me, come to think of it. "Well, Danny," I said just as softly, "I'd be honored to show you how to jack-off."
Slowly, I reached out to grasp the little cocklet that throbbed just inches from my face. He/I watched my every movement. When I made contact, we shuddered (really, we both shuddered just at exactly the same time)! Danny sucked a long desperate breath in through his gleaming white, perfect teeth.
He bent slightly (and involuntarily) at the waist, and reached out to steady himself, grabbing onto my shoulders. "Ooohh," he gasped. He was as hard as an iron rod, and warm. I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows.
"It just feels...wow...like...I dunno...umba..." I smiled. It was sometime around the early to mid seventies that kids were shortening "unbelievable" to "umba"--their equivalent of awesome!
"I'm glad," I said, "...and we really haven't even begun." He swallowed hard. "Here, maybe you'll be more comfortable down on the moss." In a shot, he was down on the ground stretched out and expectant, his little metronome beating out the rhythm of his excitement. Now I grasped his sweet boyhood between my thumb and pointer and middle fingers. Again he shook, and between looks of utter seriousness and concentration, he grinned. "Now, then, Danny," the idea is to rub...up and down. Enough to get you off--to give you an orgasm--but not so much that it chafes. You certainly don't want your dick all red and raw."
His eyes bugged out, and he shot a glance down at his penis. "You're making a joke, right? I mean, it can't get like 'skinned'--like a knee! Right?"
I grinned. "It can. I did it to myself a few times--once I figured out nothing felt better in the world--but there's such a thing as too much of a good thing. And believe me, sport, I know you will to do it once too many times all at once, and that's when you'll get into trouble."
"Well, what do I do then?"
"I could kiss it and make it better?"
Danny looked like he'd been shot. He blushed right up to his hair, and he stole another quick glance at his tool. He laughed uncomfortably. "I can't tell when you're kidding and when you're being serious. Kissing..." He shook his head.
"Actually, that's one way to help. If you can lubricate things a little. If nothing else, spit can help, or baby oil, or..."
"Perfect. Except...if you use it too much your mum will start wondering where it's all going. Soap's good, when you're doing it in the tub." I remembered I didn't start taking showers until I got into eighth grade, so I had a few years to go yet.
"But," Danny said, "this is...you know...the first time...so...I'll be okay, right?"
"It'd be easier if you weren't circumcised."
"What do you mean--circumcised?"
"Well...take a look: see that brown line around your penis?" I traced my finger around it, and he shivered predictably.
"Well, that's actually a scar."
"How do you know? I mean this is the first time you've ever seen it."
"Yes, but if you were uncircumcised, there'd be sort of a sleeve of loose skin that comes up over the end of your dick. Yours has been cut off."
I smiled. "Well, the doctor probably told your mom it would be easier to keep it clean, and sometimes there can be complications when you start growing...because the loose skin won't slide back properly. And there can be problems, too, with really old guys. Then someone may need to help them keep it clean an' all."
Danny pulled a face. "Yeuck!"
"So, that's the story...but...guys with foreskins--that's what the loose skin is called--can masturbate a little easier without having to worry about getting it, like I said, red and raw."
All this time, I'd been basically just holding his penis. Occasionally, I'd roll it back and forth a bit, but now I began in earnest. He was barely conscious, it seemed. He'd breathe in a ragged breath and hold it. It was as if he was ready to explode, and I'd barely begun. I guess that's just the way it is, the first time. "Try to relax," I said quietly.
"It'll be better if you can." Now a new idea popped into my head. "Here's an idea: What if you laid down on me. That might be better."
"I dunno, let's just try it. I think maybe I can get a little better grip...more like when I'm doing myself." Danny flashed a look down at my swollen crotch, then, blushing delightfully (again!), looked into my eyes for a second, then, as if he couldn't control himself, gazed back down at my cloth-covered package.
"Yours is big," he said almost to himself. He swallowed, then said haltingly, "I didn't get that good a look..." Suddenly he seemed to realize what he was saying and stopped dead, mortified.
"Danny," I said quietly, "don't be afraid to say what you're thinking." I slid my fingers up and down his little rod once and looked my gaze onto his. "Let me tell you something. The biggest mistake I ever made was when I was about your age. I was afraid to tell someone what I was really thinking--and wanting. I think it's changed the way my life has been ever since." He swallowed hard, and licked his lips. His chest was thumping with his heart beat. It looked like he knew exactly what I was talking about.
"Dan?" he whispered tentatively.
"Can...um...I see you...you know...your p...p...penis?" He reddened again. "Well, like everything, I mean."
I grinned. "I guess that can be arranged." I reached up and ruffled his soft brown hair. I straightened up a bit. "Well...if you're interested, you got'ta do the work."
His eyes widened, or more accurately, his pupils dilated, the black overtaking the brown. With tremulous hands, he reached out and unbuttoned my shirt. With effort, he tugged it out of my trousers. I wore no undershirt, so his gaze now shifted to my trousers. He unfastened the snap, then, with difficulty lowered the zip. "You sure?" I asked him.
He nodded. I lifted and he tugged my trousers and briefs down in one move. His eyes bulged and seemed as if they'd pop out of his head. I swelled--in just the way you'd expect--with pride.
"It's...huge," he said. My cock flexed by way of a pleased response. He lowered himself closer to my manhood. "And look," he said, sounding proud that he was able to utilize his new-found knowledge, "you're circum...circumcised, too!" He touched the fade scar that encircled my inch-and-a-half across tool. His delicate, feathery touch made my cock jump again, and he almost jumped back. He glanced up at me, grinning, please at having been responsible for that movement. "It looks just like mine!" He grinned. "'Cept bigger, of course."
"You are one very sexy boy," I said softly, "and don't you never forget it!" I leaned down over his head and kissed him on that exquisitely soft place just behind his ear.
He seemed pleased at that, but uncertain how to respond. All in good time, my boy, all in good time. "Come on," I urged and patted my lap, such as it was. He understood full well that he'd be in contact with my cock, but that never slowed him down. He climbed on, leaned back against my chest, and wriggled his little buns down against my pubes. He positioned himself so that a good four inches of my tool stuck up between his legs which where resting on my thighs. My cock pressed up against his ball sac and its two tiny bits of cargo.
"Look," Danny said. "I've got two!" Indeed, the one fat one dwarfed the other, which seemed more attuned to the boy's body. The smaller one was smoother, a purer color, it's head a delightful rose color. It was true and proud, standing straight and tall. It had none of the little bumps and imperfections 40 years of self-abuse left on its older self. Interestingly, both pulsed in almost perfect synchronicity. He twisted now and looked up at me, blushing a deep red.
"Ready?" I asked. Danny licked his lips, nodded, and settled back a bit more. I loved feeling his warm, smooth, firm butt on my belly. I began to stroke him, gently sliding my fingers up and down his silky-smooth shaft. There was just the slightest bit of loose skin, and I alternately tugged on his rod then let my fingers slide up over his glistening skin. His body tightened like waves on a beach--tightening, loosening, tightening, loosening. I wished I had some KY, but failing that, I thought briefly about having him bring me off, and then using my cum, but instead, I spoke softly in his ear. "Don't panic, now, Danny, just relax, I need to get you wet. I released him, and grasping his firm little butt, lifted him easily, until his torso was curved tight, his crotch just inches from his own mouth-and from mine. I leaned forward and sucked his little tool into my hot mouth. Even with his windpipe constricted, he gurgled a wild gasp and stiffened all over. I'd intended to simply get him wet, but with a reaction like that, I had to linger, laving his rigid little ramrod with all that my mouth and tongue had to offer. I sucked down hard, and he groaned, and when I felt he was getting close, I lowered his body, pulling his throbbing boyhood from my hot cavern with a loud, slurping pop.
I quickly resumed my stroking, using my thumb and two fingers. He was wildly panting by now, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. His face flushed and his eyes showing a hunger and at the same time an understandable uncertainty. Impelled by centuries of genetic memory, he began an inexpert humping, lifting his hips in an effort to try to increase the incredible feelings that were sweeping over his body.
"What's happening," he whimpered, gasping to try to get the oxygen his body demanded.
"Just relax, sweetie," I said. "You're going to have an orgasm, that's all. Your body is getting ready. It's going to be alright. Doesn't it feel nice?"
He only managed to grunt a sort of response. His body by now was seizing almost like an epileptic's. "That's a boy," I prompted. "Good boy," I said. "Just let it happen. It's alright, Danny. Your body's doing just what it's supposed to. Just breathe. That's a way....good boy. Can you feel it getting better and better?" He whimpered some more and began arching his back, stiffening impossibly. I worried that he was overstraining his muscles. He moaned, sounding almost in pain.
"That's the way," I encouraged. "Just let it come, sweetie...almost there." I'd increased my speed, and now he sucked in breath after breath--quick, short little breaths, desperate and almost violent.
His little hips had been jerking almost spastically as he tried to enhance my action, but now suddenly, his hips bucked massively, and his whole body contorted and went rigid, and a scream tore from his throat. A series of rapid shudders coursed through his little body, and then slowly, he eased back down onto me. I'd slowed my stroking, but now even that was more than he could tolerate, and he put his hand down on mine and stopped it's movement. I leaned down and kissed him on the head.
"There, there, there...what a good boy," I whispered. With effort, he craned his head upward, presenting me with his lips. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I would not fail to act again. I leaned down, and lightly placed my lips on his. It was the lightest of kisses, but it sealed our love for each other.
I knew that call. My mom wanted me/us home. I roused my unconscious boy. "Your mom. She calling." Instantly, he was scrambling up in a panic. "Shhh...." I said softly. "Just tell her you're on your way."
"Coming mom," he shouted shakily, hands cupped around his mouth.
I pulled up his undies, then his trousers. I tossed him his shirt, then quickly pulled myself together. Just as he was buckling his pants, I remembered something from my dim past.
"Wait," I said, and quickly undid his trousers and hauled them and his briefs back down. He wore a look of concern, almost fear, for he didn't understand and I didn't tell him. I turned him around. For the first time I gazed upon his sweet, smooth bottom. I felt cheated, for I knew there was no time to savor. "Bend over, Danny, quickly," I said, and as he did, I spread his cheeks. There, nestled over his bud was a good-sized bit of healthy looking moss. I removed it, and his little pucker winked at me. "Okay," I said, as I patted his warm, firm ass. He turned around, pulling up his trousers and pants. I held up the intruder. "Moss" I said. "Wouldn't do to have this little thing stuck in your bottom and stain the insides of your underpants." Immediately he understood the implications.
Mom had found just such a stain once when I was about Danny's age. "How'd that get there?" she demanded. I tried a couple of explanations, but she never bought either. I ended up in my room for a week. She had, I'm sure, a pretty much spot on idea how it got there.
As we began our walk back, I coached my boy. "You don't want your mom to worry about you, right?"
"No," he said warily.
"Or see that you've been...messing around?"
"No! 'Course not!"
"Well, here's the story: We were working on the lawnmower. You asked if I'd like to see your fort. We went exploring in the woods. You're going to race back to the house now. That will explain why you're all sweaty and flushed. Just remember, mom...er...your mom...doesn't suspect a thing...so there's no need to act secretive or be guilty. Right?"
"Right." But he didn't sound convinced.
"And don't rush in and start giving her this long-winded story. If she wants to know what you've been up to, she'll ask. Got it?"
He grinned. "Got it!"
"Okay," I said, "Then, off you go." I swatted him lightly on the butt, and he took off running. My mom didn't miss much, but she was basically trusting of her son. On the other hand, all she needed was a look, to get her sniffer going, and then she could sniff out just about anything.
As it turned out everything went exactly to plan. In fact, at supper that night everything went even better that I could possibly have imagined.
"Dan," mom said to me (the adult me). "Danny's granddad's in the hospital in Shelby. Because it's Friday, Helen can get out of work a little early tomorrow and go in to see him tomorrow evening. She's picking up Danny's Grandma, and well, I was thinking I'd go too...if that's okay with you. I mean, it'd mean I'd need you to watch Danny again. Do you mind? It's short notice, I know, and we won't get back 'til 11 or so, but Dad's...well...we'd just like to see him."
"No, m'am," I answered. "Not at all. I'll be looking for work tomorrow during the day, but I can be home before Danny gets out of school."
Oh man, how lucky can I get! Pretty lucky, and judging from the shit-eating grin on Danny, he thought so, too!
I stood in the doorway with Danny--standing appropriately distant from the boy, of course--waving to Mom as she and Aunt Helen drove off. I would have been shocked to hear the conversation they were having just now:
"He looks enough like him to be his father," Aunt Helen was saying.
"Didn't I tell you! He even looks like Jim. And acts like him, too. It's uncanny. The other day when I opened the door, and there he was, I nearly swooned--if women do that any more. Jim's been gone six years, and then to open the door...it seemed like he'd come back from the dead. I know it's crazy, but I feel like he's a part of the family."
"Well, Marian, perhaps you might help that along..." Aunt Helen raised her eyes meaningfully.
"Helen..." Mom chided good-naturedly.
"Well, it has been six years. That's been a long time for a girl to go without a good...well, ahem...I couldn't help but notice that nice bulge in his pants, Marian."
"Helen Mitchell!" They giggled like a couple of school girls.
"And you've noticed, too," Aunt Helen added. "...haven't you!"
Mom just blushed.
One thing was for sure, her son had noticed.
"Can we go back to the hideout now!" Danny pleaded. "Please."
"Whoa, pard'ner," I muttered. "I think we need to wait a bit...in case your mom's forgotten something."
"Well what're we gonn'a do?"
I was deep in thought, about what I'd LIKE to do, and wasn't paying too much attention. "Well, maybe we can watch a DVD or something."
"A D..." Suddenly I realized there wouldn't be DVD's around for another thirty years or so. Hell, I didn't even know if VHS tapes had made it into the public arena yet. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen a Blockbuster anywhere. "Ah...a Dual-vented duster." I looked at him, and he was totally lost. "A crop-duster. Go for a plane ride? Fly loop-the-loops!"
He pulled a face. "Now you're foolin' again. Aren't you?"
I grinned. "Yeah, Danny. This time I am."
Now he got serious and leaned in closer to me. "But you weren't yesterday when you said you'd kiss it!"
"No," I grinned. "I sure wasn't." I walked him to the sofa and sat him down. I ran my hand under his t-shirt and caressed his smooth back. "Did you like it?"
He seemed to shiver a little as he thought about his response. "Yeah...Could we do it again?" He sat and fidgeted and every few seconds glanced over at an old grandfather's clock that loudly ticked off the seconds. All I could think of was when I was a boy and my Uncle Clyde called to take me to a ball game--a real Major League game! I sat in that same sofa, watching that same clock, fidgeting in that exact way, thinking the appointed time would never come. "Have they been gone long enough?" he asked when he could stand it no longer. Only a couple of minutes had passed--hardly enough time for prudent lovers.
He made me laugh right out loud. "Hey, sport, someone sounds a little anxious for some fun." He blushed. "Just relax a little, we've got hours," I reminded him.
"Yeah, but you want to do it, too. I can tell."
"Yep!" He grinned slyly and shot a glance down at my crotch. I knew right what he was looking at.
"And what makes you think so?" He had something on his mind, I could tell, but he just didn't dare to follow through.
"Go ahead," I said softly. "I can see you've got something going on in there." I gently tapped the side of his head.
His eyes were riveted on my package. He sucked in a breath and held it, and then, with a cracking voice, he breathed, "I know you want to because of this," he said as he grabbed at my aching hardon under my jeans. He blushed again and snatched a quick peek up at my face, looking, I suppose, for any hint of disapproval. But he wouldn't find any from me, and he didn't take his hand away.
"Ohhh," I sighed as his little hand gently massaged my dripping tool.
His eyes were glued to the front of my trousers. "You kind of like doin' that, don'cha, sport," I said.
He beamed. I wondered if I'd been aware of my desire at his age. Maybe a few questions would answer that if I dared--if Danny dared, that is. "Can I ask you something," I began.
"You ever mess around with any friends?"
He shrugged again. "Naa," he bleated, and to the best of my recollection that was true, not until later--not until late in high school anyway. "Would you like to? You think it'd be fun?"
He made a frown. "I don't know. Maybe." Clearly, he'd not thought about the idea much.
"What about girls?"
He made a bigger frown. "What do you mean? Like..." It slowly dawned on him. "...you mean mess around with a...with a...girl?"
I smiled. I could see the idea was appalling to him. "Why not? Some guys like to do stuff with girls...you know...have sex 'n stuff."
Oh God, you would have thought I'd shot him. "What, you mean like touch their boobs? An'..." He blushed a deep red "...stick it in their...girl hole."
I decided to play dumb. "Heck, you don't need a girl to do that. That's what boys've got butt-holes for." I gave him a sly, naughty look, raising my eyebrows a few times. But the idea was clearly one he hadn't considered before, and it seemed to slow him down and give him something to think about. "Hey, sport, it's me. I'm just askin'. Sounds like you aren't all that interested in girls." Again he reddened. "Hey, Danny, that's cool. Not a problem."
"What about you?" he blurted out.
"What about me, what?"
"Do you like girls?"
"Do I have friends who are girls? Of course. Do I want to have sex with them? No-way."
He eyed me carefully. "So, that's cool," I continued. "Sounds like I'm not the only one." I poked him under the arm and elicited a little-boy squeal of laughter. It was good to keep the conversation from getting too serious, which it was threatening to do.
"Dan?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes," I said, my hand continuing to flow up and down his exquisitely smooth back like gentle waves on a warm tropic beach.
"If I don't want to do it with girls, does that mean...I'm...I'm....like...a homo?"
I chuckled to myself. Again, the lingo. I'd forgotten "gay" was just coming into its own in the early 70's. "I don't know...but to tell you the truth, I don't care...not a bit. I like you just the way you are. But you said you didn't mess around with guys either."
"But..." He stopped and sighed. He was frustrated.
"One more question."
"Before yesterday, did you ever think about sex stuff?"
His eyes widened, he swallowed hard, and he looked away.
Okay, I guess I got my answer. "I'll take that as a yes," I said.
"Okay, sport, here's the $64,000 Question: When you're thinking about sex, who are thinking about being with?"
He shifted away from me a bit and pulled his knees up to his chest.
"Danny, it's okay whatever it is," I said encouragingly. I knew his secret torment, and I knew what it did to me. Right now I had a chance to change that, and I wasn't going to let it slip through my fingers. I picked him right up and put that tight ball of boy in my lap. He started to scramble out, and I held him there. "Danny, Danny," I whispered. "It's okay. I know what you think about. It's okay."
"No, it isn't," he mumbled between hot, breathy sobs.
"Danny..." I held him tight. Slowly he came to understand he couldn't escape. "Remember I said when I was you age I wanted something, but was afraid...and then it just messed everything up. If I'd only been a little braver." I ran my hand over his tummy, savoring the firm musculature. "Ohhh," I sighed. "You are such a great little kid, you just need to trust yourself."
"I can't say," he whimpered.
"Trust yourself," I whispered, my lips against his sweet little ear, my hot breath, making the rest of him break out in goose bumps.
He abruptly twisted around and looked up at me. The way he was cradled in my lap made him seem like an infant--the sweetest baby boy.
I could see fear in his eyes. I ached with his pain. Oh God, how I wanted him to be free of his shame.
"It's alright, Danny."
He swallowed, and I saw something else flow into his face--resolution, I suppose. "I think about...wishing I could..." His voice was barely a whisper, a sweet boy soprano whisper. "be with a grownup...with a man." He almost cowered when he said it, as if he expected me to beat him for his wickedness. Instead, I gathered him up and hugged him to me. "There, there," I whispered as he continued to sob. I patted his back gently, comforting him as a mother would comfort a baby who'd just finished his bottle. I held him under his butt. He nestled his head in the crook of my neck. I felt his hot tears on my skin. I stroked his soft, blond hair. "There, Danny, good boy, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I pressed my hand against his soft hair and held his head against me. He shook his head once or twice against my neck. "And you're with me now...so maybe a little bit of your wish is coming true. Now, here's another tough question: What do you think about when you're thinking about being with a man?"
"Just touching," he sniffed. "You know...without any clothes on. It makes my thing..."
"Like it is now?" I said. In the past few seconds, his little cock had burst into full erection. I could feel it poking into me through layers of cloth.
"Yeah," he said.
"Have you ever seen any men naked? Besides me of course?" I said with a chuckle.
"Last year," he said. "I was going to the 'Y' for swim lessons, and my teacher was a man."
"Was he good looking?" I already knew the answer. I knew exactly who he was talking about, and I knew exactly what he was going to say. "Yeah," Danny said dreamily.
Danny got that right, for sure! Matt was probably about 25. In my young eyes he was a stud in every way, though I probably didn't even know what 'stud' meant. (I just knew one when I saw one. It meant I wanted to see him naked, and wanted him to see me naked.) He wore a Speedo swimsuit, and I couldn't take my eyes from it. I wore baggy swim trunks, and was glad--mostly--except when I had to get out of the pool. Then the wet cloth clung to me, and anyone who looked would know I have a "Class A" hardon. As soon as I stood up on the deck, I'd quickly pull the legs of my swim trunks down, to pull them away from my cock. And it seemed nine times out of ten, Matt was looking at me, when I looked up.
"One day," Danny continued, "he asked me if I'd like a little extra instruction. He said he thought I might make a good racer. I thought that was great. He talked to my mom on the phone, and my next lesson, I stayed when everyone left. He touched me a lot, like more than he ever did when the other kids were around. He showed me how to dive in at the start of a race, how to move my arms to do the back stroke and how to hold my body, too. He had his hand on my butt..." I trembled, hearing Danny recount those moments. I could almost have interrupted and told it myself with the same intensity. Even now I was shaking. "...as I floated on my back...and he kind of pushed me up. My...penis was sticking right up because he was holding me an' everything, and I was ready to die. I took my hand and tried to push it down, and he just said, 'Danny, that's nothing to be ashamed of. I get like that, too. Like right now. That's why I wear Speedos. It doesn't show as much as your suit...unless you wear a jock strap underneath it. If you get hard a lot, and don't want people to know, maybe you should wear one of those.'" Danny looked up into my eyes. "Then he said, 'But Danny, I got'ta tell ya, I think seeing you hard is really cool.' Then he said we should probably get cleaned up, and when I went into the locker room, he came, too. I was gonna' take a shower, but when I went in, he was in there, and he was naked, and his penis was all hard."
I remember it so well. "What do you think, Danny," he had said. "Do you like my cock? It likes you. I know, 'cos it's all hard."
Now Danny spoke again. He was almost crying. "I...I...just got kind of scared. I remember I just sort of shook my head no, and backed out. After that, I never took another special lesson...because I knew..."
I nodded understanding completely. I wondered if I did even back then. "Knew what, honey?" I wanted him to say the words, so he could hear his deepest, most secret thoughts out loud.
"I knew if I did, I'd want him to...to do stuff with me. I didn't know what, you know, what men do with boys, but I wanted him to see me, and..." He swallowed. "...touch me." He looked up at me. "All over," he added so there'd be no doubt what he meant.
I hugged him tightly. We just sat there like that for a long, long time. Finally, I lifted him away. "Danny," I began, "first, you are always right not to do something you're not ready to do. So that first time? You just needed a little time, that's all. Your instructor probably understood that. From what you said, I don't think he'd ever hurt you. Next, trust yourself. That was your mistake. It's not wrong to want to be with a man, it's just wrong to be afraid that makes you wicked or evil or something. For people like you and me, it's just natural and normal. It's part of who you are, and I can tell you, you are one heck of a great kid. I love you so much."
He shot me a look. I hadn't meant to say that, it just popped out, but it was true, and I think he knew that.
"Do you really love me, Dan?"
"I do," I said. "So much. You're the kind of boy I wish I could have been."
"What would he have done to me...if I'd stayed," Danny asked.
"Probably not much," I answered, "at least not on that first day. Having sex is sort of like learning to swim--you sort of do things in steps. So maybe he would have just pulled your swimsuit down, and looked, and showed you himself. Maybe he would have asked if he could have masturbated you, or asked you to do him. Then later on, as the days and weeks went by, he might have sucked you off, and taught you how to suck him, and probably, eventually, if he really loved you, and you loved him, he would have wanted to make love to you."
Danny looked a bit uncertain. "How? I mean is that like different from doing the other stuff--sucking and stuff?"
"It is, Danny. When a boy loves a man, and a man loves a boy, they want to join together in a special way."
"Let's go upstairs," I said. I stood up, still holding him in my arms, and we walked up to my room. I placed him on the double bed, and proceeded to strip him until he was as naked as the day he was born. His balls were pulled up tight to his body, and his penis pointed to his chin. Then I stripped. He never took his eyes from me, never blinked. His relentless gaze made me tremble, made me worry that I might not come up to expectations. I lay down next to him, and patted my belly. He scrambled on top of me. I dropped my hands down to his firm, hot butt, savoring the exquisite softness of his two cheeks, the size of honeydew melons. Ohhh...honeydew melons indeed. I sighed. They have nothing on the two honeydews I now beheld.
"You like my butt, don't you," Danny asked, picking his head up and looking down at me.
"I do, I like it for a lot of reasons."
I spoke softly, as one lover speaks to the other. "I love how smooth it is, how firm it is; I love its muscles, its shape. I love how warm it is. I love holding each cheek in the palm of my hands. I love the feel. It excites me. It makes me hard."
He trembled as I said these things, trembled to think he, a mere child, was affecting me in this way. Danny--consciously or unconsciously--pressed himself up against my hands, and I continued to caress his sweet butt. Now I lifted him to a standing position, I sat on the edge of the bed, and he, between my opened legs. I turned him so I beheld his glorious ass for really the first time. It was firm, two strong outcroppings of muscle, pinched at each side. I could almost hold both in one hand. I eased him back and leaned in, bringing my cheek to his. He was exquisitely soft, velvety, warm. I trembled, as did he, when we made contact. I drew my finger up and down his crack--not deeply, just enough to cover my fingernail. He sucked in a breath and a wave of energy coursed through his body. I turned my head, and planted a long, soft kiss on each globe. His cute little buns tightened predictably. Now I drew my fingers through his crack once again, deeper this time, eliciting a greater response from him, and then deeper still, and finally, I touched down. I'd found it, the place the Nifty writer, Ganymede, describes with such eloquence and loving awe.
When my fingernail grazed over that little swelling, it was as if his whole body threatened to draw into itself, through that very orifice.
"I love this place because it's part of you...and because it's is the secret place of man-boy love."
I reached down and like a holy man opening sacred doors, placed my fingers in his crack and gently eased those globes apart. He was unused to this, that much was evident. But it was more evident how much it excited him. As he stood there, he visibly shook as wave after wave of energy spread from that secret place out to even his fingertips and his toes. And then his sweet pucker was laid bare to my hungry eyes. It was pink, the way you'd expect it to be--not the dark purplish-brown it would soon be. It was tiny, a thin rim of multiple tiny muscles, having learned in infancy to do their job, now soon to be taught a terrible lesson--the lesson that there was another role for them to play as well.
I took my baby finger and as lightly as possible made contact, feeling my way like a blind man over this virginal terrain. It pulled in on itself as I explored, and I tried to imagine how the boy--how this part of his anatomy--would respond when the time came. I leaned in again, savoring his rich aroma--slightly musky, earthy, but somehow pure and innocent. I nuzzled his tiny, pink bud, and breathed in his essence once again. It was heavenly. And when I could resist no longer, I did what I'd been waiting to do for a lifetime, I leaned in and planted a light, soft kiss on his fledgling anus.
He gasped when I did I did that, and twisted around, eyes wide, disbelieving what his sense of touch had told him, but I held him tight by his two, tight honeydews, and dared, for the first time in my life, to let my tongue drill into that tight seal. He gasped, and wriggled, but I continued with my assault, and with patience, eventually took him--or perhaps, he took me.
I don't know what I expected. I suppose I feared something unpleasant, but it was as the Nifty writers have reported: it was a savory and sensual experience that overwhelmed my taste buds and my emotions. And judging from his squirming and gasps, it was having a similar effect on his senses as well. Finally, my tongue actually began to ache, and fearing I had "overextended", I pulled out. I glanced down, and found his hole to be just slightly more dilated, slightly more pink, and a whole lot wetter. My drool was literally flowing down his thighs, and I thought perhaps that I might actually have detected a hint of that musky natural lubrication a boy's own body generates. Oh, ye sweet gods of Greek love, how I felt unworthy of this boy.
"Dan?" I allowed him to twist around and face me. His little tool throbbed. He was filled with uncertainty. "Is that what you're doing? You know...loving..." He reddened at the mere thought. "...loving...my...secret place."
"Oh, no, Danny. This is just sort of exploring...getting started."
"Then how do you do it? How does a man...um...love that...um...secret place?" He trembled, fearing he already knew the answer, unsure he was boy enough to fulfill his need. I lifted up coming to a kneeling position and turned him around once again. I ran my oozing cock up and down that perfect crevasse.
"How do you think, Danny, how can a man join with a boy?"
His lithe, slender neck turned to bring his face to mine. The color literally drained from him. He swallowed hard. "He...he...puts his penis in the boy's bottom." His words were barely a whisper, and he trembled with fear. But it wasn't a question. It was a moment of sudden awareness. There was something in his voice, something that spoke of more than fear. There was almost a desperate need, a desire.
I wrapped my hands around his firm boy body, and pulled him up against me. "It's okay, Danny, don't be afraid." My hands wandered over his front, from his collarbones to his thighs. "But you're right, Danny, you got it exactly right," I whispered. "I put my penis where my tongue just was." I said simply, and then I trembled with the same fear, the same passion, the same need.
"Are you going to do that now?" He looked into my eyes. "To me?" he added.
I nuzzled his smooth, sweet neck. "Danny, first, it's not, 'Are you going to do that?' It's, 'Are we going to do that?' We'll make love together--if that's what you want. I want to have you so much...to join with you in that way, but I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to do. I promise. And, no, I'm not going to fuck you now."
"Fuck?" he asked. He knew that word, whispered in school yards, but I'm willing to lay odds, he'd never heard it applied to him, never heard it used for real. Somehow everything seemed all the more serious now.
"Fucking--that's what it is, what we do...when we join, when we make love." My hand played over his hairless thigh. I raised my hand to fondle his little spear. He stiffened, then sighed, and he pressed himself farther into my hand. His sexual urges were causing his body to respond now as it never had before. The mere thought of The Ultimate Act of man-boy love was sending little shockwaves through his perfect body.
With my hands on his hips, I urged him to turn, and now I faced his hairless package. He stood like a miniature Colossus, his straight, strong legs slightly spread. His downy legs formed an arrow which directed me to his boyhood. His pubic region was as smooth as a baby's. His penis pulsed in time with his heart and pointed up so high, it almost pressed against his belly, which swelled delightfully in a little boy sort of way. His little pecker was so hard it might have ached. At three inches or a little more perhaps, and little thicker than my finger, it fit his trim, firm body perfectly. His scrotum was like a tiny pink brain, two small hemispheres pulled tight up under his tool, lightly wrinkled, holding his treasure so firmly against his body that his balls must have been snuggled up into the canals they'd descended from while still in Mother's womb a mere 12 years ago.
I leaned closer and could smell him. I nuzzled that little sac, and could smell his boyish fragrance--warm, damp, slightly sweet. I nibbled gently on his scrotum, hoping to coax those two tiny eggs from their nest. He squirmed, but I held him firmly. I could feel them hidden inside, both about the size of large jelly beans.
I shuddered. Oh, the delicate glory of a sweet man-child. I knew I could ensnare one or both of them if I bit down, and sucked hard. And so I did, gently surrounding his sac with my mouth, scraping lightly, and sucking. He actually squealed--a sweet, soprano boy-squeal, high-pitched enough to shatter a glass. I felt his little dormant gonads, like acorns buried for the winter, slowly being released to my dominant mouth. As the wet heat of my mouth warmed its contents, his sac relaxed, and my tongue could properly explore his treasure.
Two sweeter little jelly beans couldn't be found anywhere. Hard and smooth, and rounder than I would have expected. Sometime in the throes of puberty, as they grew, they would elongate as well, and drop, testifying to the arrival of manhood. For now I was more than content to savor these two immature testes. He held my head, and I wondered if he had any fear of his balls being trapped inside my jaws. After all, one little bite, and that which makes a boy a man would be gone, but I wondered if he--I--knew even that most basic boy physiology at that age.
Now I released them, and after just an instant, like some undersea animal, his sac began to pull back into its wrinkled state; its contents rolled gently, and pulled themselves back up against his body. It all happened in slow-motion and it was hypnotic. I extended my tongue, and licked his penis right up its full length. When I reached his marble-sized glans, I let the very tip of my tongue trace around it. Again he squealed, and I felt his fingers digging into my scalp.
Now I angled my head, dropped down over his penis, and slurped all of it into my hungry maw. His rigid, little tool wanted to stay pointed up to his chin, but with my mouth I delicately levered it downward so I could give it the attention it properly deserved.
I sucked down hard on it, and curled my tongue around it completely. He stiffened--not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. His small body would spasm into tight contractions from now to when he finally was overtaken by his orgasm. I could taste him! Oh heavenly bliss! Running my tongue around his rim brought him to near-delirium. I did it again, and this time he apparently involuntarily thrust out his genitals, pressing his member as deep inside my mouth as he could. My nose pressed into his soft girl-like pubis-his mons. He grunted. I pulled back, sucking hard enough to create a vacuum as his tiny piston pulled out. My lips caught the corona of his glans, and he shuddered. Then after the slightest hesitation, I swirled my tongue over his head, then with my hands on his sweet, firm butt, plunged his tool back into my hungry mouth. Now we established a slow, steady rhythm with me doing most of the work. A sheen of sweet boy sweat covered his body. His eyes seemed to lose their focus, and his face grew flush. His breathing increased. I recognized all these signs for what they were: his orgasm was rapidly approaching.
"It's coming," he groaned softly.
"Mmmm," I hummed, hopefully adding a nuance to his stimulation.
Now, as if by pure instinct, he began thrusting into my mouth. I increased my action. I wanted desperately to make this the "gold standard" of all blowjobs for him. No matter where he found himself I wanted him to remember this cocksucking session above all others. (Yes, okay, I admit it, it was selfish of me, but I wanted...whenever this strange journey resolved...to remember what I'd given myself--if that makes sense.) At any rate, he was now truly humping my mouth, and I continued to bob madly up and down on his little organ. It must as been nearly unbearable for him.
"Oh," he cried, fully expecting, I'm sure, that his orgasm was imminent. I worked every bit of magic with my lips and tongue and cheeks that I could. Now there came from his glorious mouth a series of "oh's"--short of desperate sounding, each one more intense the preceding one.
I sucked down hard one more time. It was as if he were having a grand mal seizure. His body stiffened impossibly. His eyes rolled upward, and his body arched thrusting his penis deep inside my wet cavern. He froze for a moment, and then a series of massive shudders, starting at his penis and spreading outward, rapidly assaulting his whole body, struck like a tidal wave. They came in quick succession: one, two, three, then even a fourth, and then began to slow, and easing in intensity. He wobbled, unable to keep his balance, and he struggled to keep from collapsing. I reached out and steadied him, then gently lowered him so he was leaning against me.
He dozed, and I felt privileged to watch his wet little morsel shrink to its flaccid state, and hear his breathing change from ragged rasps, to the shallow, easy breaths of a sleeping infant. I trembled at the heft of him spread out on my body, I trembled at the intimacy we had shared, and I trembled with the knowledge that I had changed my life forever.
Danny stirred, stretched, and reached down and tugged on his soft, inch-long dick. He squeezed the head, and stretched it like a rubber band to its full three-plus inches, and then let it retract again. His balls hung languidly down hiding from view his perineum.
"So, sport," I said softly, "pretty good, was it?" He reached up and let his fingers explore my chest. I'm not an especially hairy guy, but he found some hair and toyed with that for a moment, then trailed off and discovered my nipple. Playing with it for a while, I think he was surprised as he felt it grow erect. "Nice," I mumbled. My nipple wasn't the only thing to rise up.
All this time he'd been toying with his little tool, but when he felt my tool, pressing up between his thighs, he seemed to think a moment, then let go of his tool, and took mine in his hand. His fingers seem to flutter like a nervous butterfly over my shaft, which only made it throb to a harder erection. "Ohh, Danny," I moaned. I shifted slightly, spreading my legs (and his which lay on top of mine), hoping to give him more access.
"Is that...is it good?" he asked.
"Oh God, sweetie, it's awe...it's...umba!"
He grinned, both at my use of the word, and at the knowledge that he was actually causing this reaction is me--in a grown up! "He's so big," he said, as if my cock were a person unto itself--himself. I smiled at that. Hell, it sure as shit had a life of its own sometimes.
"Just average," I said. "What about Matt at the 'Y'?" I asked. "Does he have a big one?"
Danny shot a look up at me. "Yeah," he breathed. "I think maybe it's a little bigger than yours!"
I knew it was. Danny was just being kind. Now Danny eyed me carefully, suspiciously. "How'd you know his name is Matt?"
Oops. I scrambled for a plausible answer. "Well, actually, I went to the 'Y' to see if they had any leads on jobs. I saw the swimming instructor's name on something. It was Matt something...so I just made a guess." Danny seemed to buy that. (Whew, that could have been bad!)
"D'you think I'll be big?"
"Every man is a little different. It's not so much how big you are, it's what you do with it, I guess."
Danny blushed. He wanted to say something else.
"I hope I'm as big as you--when I grow up."
"You know, Danny, I'm sure you will be." I smiled, and he grinned back, then looked down at his little boyhood. He was, I'm certain, picturing himself sporting an adult penis. "Just be patient," I said, knowing full well that patience is not often the trait of a 12-year-old. His fingers stuttered over my cock. It throbbed in his hand, and he squeezed it. "Danny," I said, "I want to ask you to do something."
"Okay." Like any boy hearing a question like that, there was a hint of uncertainty.
"If you want to, I'd like you to do to me, what I just did to you."
"Uh-huh," I said. "Actually, it has a name; it's called fellatio. Cocksucking, blowjobs." He blushed recognizing those two more familiar words if not the former. "Only if you want to, but I think you do, don't you?" I looked him square in the eye. As a boy, I'd fantasized about sucking a man until I couldn't stand it, yet I never had the courage to actually do it. I still don't know where the idea came from. Somehow I figured out I wanted to do things with men, but how and why, I'm not even sure a shrink could tell me. But I'm sure I would have if I hadn't let fear get the best of me with Matt. It was a fantasy never fulfilled--or at least it had been.
Danny moved off me, and knelt on hands and knees, his legs straddling mine, his hands resting on either side of my torso. His penis lifted up pointing toward my face. I could see that little slit of his that to this point in his life and for many months more would only have urine pass through it. I lifted ever so slightly, and my cockhead touched his ball sac and the two little wonders it contained. My cock throbbed and he stiffened at the touch. I lowered back down, and a gossamer string of precum trailed from my piss slit to his sac. Then, he lowered himself when he missed that contact, and he brought his balls back in touch with my oozing glans. He swiveled his hips just a bit--just enough to feel my cockhead moving ever-so-slightly against his scrotum and the root of his penis underneath. Yes, he wanted to suck me--it was just part of who he was. He didn't know what was required of him, but he soon would. All he knew was that he had to do it.
"Tell me how?" he said with need in his voice.
"Remember what I did to you?" He nodded. "You won't be able to take me all into your mouth, if you try, you'll gag. It takes time to learn how to take all of a man's cock. You can do it, you could even take all of Matt's, but you'll have to be patient and train your throat not to clamp down when something's pushed into it. But right now, just take as much as you can. Make a vacuum when your lips are around it, and use your tongue to feel all around, okay?"
"Yeah," he breathed, his eyes locked onto my big tool. "And remember, Danny, be careful with your teeth. I'm tasty, but no bites. 'Kay?" I grinned at him.
He nodded, and sat back on his haunches. He gazed at my leaking manhood.
"What's that stuff that's coming out of it?"
"That's precum--it's sort of a natural lubrication. It feels really slippery."
He reached out and touched it, making my cock jump. A half-smile formed on his face. He rubbed the stuff between his fingers. "Slippery," he said to himself.
"Whenever you're ready."
He seemed to study my penis, and then slowly lowered himself, grasping my cock at the root. He extended his tongue until his velvety organ of taste landed softly on my cockhead, eliciting a quiet moan from me. He glanced up at me. "There's not much taste."
"No, I guess not."
He licked it again, spending more time with it this time, drawing the tip of his tongue around the rim of my glans. I held my breath and shook at his stimulation.
"Kiss it," I moaned. He again glanced up at me, then haltingly lowered his lips and covered the just the very tip of my cockhead, his lips meeting the lips of my gaping piss slit. "Oh, God, Danny, you are un-fucking-believable!"
Without removing his lips from me, he raised his eyes and looked up at me. "Mmmmmm," he hummed.
Then he opened his mouth some more, and lowered his mouth over my head. His lips slipped over the rim of my cockhead, and a groan tore from my mouth. "Oh, Danny, y-e-e-s-s-s-s. Now, just make a little vacuum. Suck..." He did. "Gghhhrrrr," I moaned. "And...ah...." I swallowed hard. "...move your tongue over it."
He was an eager student--and an excellent one! His cheeks were hollowed out from his sucking, and his tongue was in constant motion. "Incredible, Danny," I encouraged. He lowered himself down over my cock even more. I felt my cockhead poking up against the back of his throat. He so wanted to please, but he'd gone too far, and he pulled back quickly.
"It's Okay," I said, "Just relax. You're doing great. You're awesome." I fondled his silky neck, stroked that wonderfully smooth place just behind his ear, and ran my fingers through his hair. "I guess you know you need to breathe through your nose, and if...um...I'm deep inside you...just wait until you pull back off me to breathe. And don't try to take me too deep...until you get used to it. But you are an awesome cocksucker." He started to go down again. I held his head and lifted him off. "You're going to make me cum soon," I said. "I'll try to tell you when, but you need to decide if you want me to shoot in your mouth...or not. You decide, okay?"
"What's it taste like?" he asked breathlessly.
"It's salty...sort of bitter. It's a taste that kind of grows on you--an acquired taste, as they say."
He looked uncertain about how to answer. "I want to try it, he whispered finally."
"Okay," I said, and he went back down on me, as hungry as ever for a tasty mancock.
In just minutes, his head was bobbing up and down like a piston, and I knew... "Danny, I'm close," I warned. With a few more strokes, I felt my cock swell even more. "Now!" I groaned, stiffened, and arched. I'm sure he could feel that thick tube under my penis expand, and I blasted the first of repeated bolts of hot cum.
It surprised him, it had to have, but he was such a game little cocksucker, and he swallowed the first blast. I humped in six more shots and finally, I saw some of my cream spilling out from the side of his mouth, but then I was done, and I pulled him off me.
He was pale, seemingly overwhelmed by the experience. His eyes were teary. I pulled him to me. "Oh God, Danny, you were incredible. I've never felt anything like that. Awesome! Oh, God." I hugged him, then kissed him and tasted my own cum. I broke our kiss. "Incredible." I collapsed on the bed, and it jiggled appropriately. The boy lay on top of me. "So awesome," I breathed in his ear. I let my hands explore his exquisitely smooth body, my body, and I sighed with utter contentment as did he.
(to be continued....)