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Welcome to Part 3 of my newest story. Before we get started, as always, please think about donating a buck or two to Nifty. Ok, a quick reminder. In Part 2, Adam finally arrived after having disappeared for a couple of days. He and Brad have been swimming and Adam has revealed that he has a bit of a naughty streak in him, which, let's face it, has Brad weak about the knees. The guys have been in the pool for awhile now, so we should get back to them. Ready?
You And I Both Part 3
Eventually he admitted to being too pruney to continue swimming, and we got out and dried ourselves off. Or rather, I dried off and then, at his insistence, helped him to dry off. I was careful not to touch his crotch, although at that point I'm not sure if he'd have minded. I looked around to see that we'd once again spent the day together. The sun was just sinking over the treetops, shadows gathering around their trunks. “I suppose we need to be getting you home,” I said. Adam, who had been grinning just a moment before, frowned. “Do I have to?” he asked. “Adam, I can't believe your mother won't care about your being out after dark. Shouldn't we at least call her?” He shrugged. “She's probably not home. She's probably already at the bar. She won't get home till late, and then it'll be her and one of her boyfriends and they'll party all night and if she sees me she just gets mad, so I either have to stay in my room all night and listen to them... party, or go to a friend's house.” I processed all that for a few moments. It was the most he'd shared about his home life since we'd met. I'd suspected things were bad, especially with that black eye of his, but I'd had no idea it was that bad. “So... did you want to stay here?” I asked, trying to understand. Adam looked up hopefully. “Could I?” I was torn. “Adam... first, you barely know me,” I began, trying to think things through. “I know you,” he insisted earnestly. “I know you won't hurt me. I was just kidding before. You know, about the rape and stuff. I don't really think that.” Oh, how little did he know. Well, actually, I suppose he did know. He was right in that I'd never hurt him, and as much as I might want to sleep with him, I wouldn't do that either. However, that certainly didn't mean I wouldn't be thinking about it. “It's not just that,” I tried to explain. “Even if your mom didn't care, if she didn't call someone to come looking for you or something, if someone found out I let you stay here with me, especially without permission... well, let's just say that all those things you didn't really mean? A lot of people would think that's exactly what happened, and I could get into some serious hot water.” “That's stupid,” he insisted. “I would just tell them nothing like that happened.” “Unfortunately, not everyone would believe you,” I told him. Adam looked dejected. It about broke my heart. What the hell was I doing? I mean, protecting myself was one thing, but was I really going to send this kid back into that abusive environment? Especially on a weekend night when it was apparently much worse, and him already sporting a black eye? On the other hand, the kid was eleven years old. He'd managed to survive this long, perhaps I was being overly sensitive. Adam must have sensed that I was weighing all this. He stood in front of me patiently. When he saw me gather myself and look back at him his face filled with such pleading that my resolve melted. I sighed. “On one condition,” I stated, and he practically floated off the floor. “You have to call your mother and tell her where you are,” I insisted. He thought about it for only a moment, and then he was hugging me. Ok, totally worth it.
* * * * *
We headed back to the house. This time I followed him, watching that tight little rump of his in his damp underwear. As he entered the house in front of me, I took a moment to adjust the windows to one way reflective. Outside, the windows turned to mirrors. I watched the way the last of the day's light was reflected out onto the lawn, red and gold. Adam seemed to bring Autumn with him. I had both towels and Adam's cutoffs. I turned to him and said, “Why don't you head up to my bathroom and take a shower. Rinse all that chlorine off. Leave your undies outside. I'll throw them and your shorts into the dryer for you.” “Ok!” Adam said happily and he raced up the stairs, his little feet slapping on the wooden risers. I opened up the fridge to see what I could make us for dinner. That's when Adam called out, “Brad!” “What?” I asked. “Here!” he said, and then there was a splat behind me. I turned around to see Adam's briefs in a wet little bunch on the floor. I went over and grabbed them, then heard a giggle. I looked up to see Adam standing at the railing overlooking the bottom of the floor. He had one hand cupping his small genitals. He smiled at me. “Enjoying yourself?” I asked sarcastically. “Can everyone see me naked if they look in?” he asked. “I turned on the one way,” I told him. “Sorry to ruin your fun. Maybe you can streak through town later, give everyone a look at your hot little bod.” Adam giggled and then he turned, wiggled his cute little bare ass at me, and then disappeared, presumably to my bathroom to shower. I headed to the laundry room and deposited the towels, and Adam's shorts and underwear. While I was there I decided I might as well dry my own trunks, so I stripped out of them and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. Back in the kitchen, I decided to take the easy route. I pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer, turned on the oven and slid it inside. There, dinner was planned. Heading upstairs I put my ear to the bathroom door, but I didn't hear the shower running. I knocked, “Adam, you about done?” I asked. “You can come in!” he called. I opened the door to find him in front of the mirror, carefully combing his wet hair. He was dressed in the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier, the one with the pink and orange stripes. He'd untied the knot on the side, and the shirt hit him at about mid-thigh. Or would have, if his arms were lowered. With them in the air as he combed his hair, he was actually perilously close to exposing some boy ass. As much as I might have wanted that to happen, I thought I should do something about the water that was running down his back from his soaking hair. “You're hair is soaked,” I pointed out. He'd done a horrible job drying it, if he'd dried it at all. It was dripping all over, especially down his back with each run of the comb. I grabbed a towel off the rack by the vanity. “Hold still,” I instructed. Then I vigorously dried his hair for him. “You're making me dizzy!” his laughter muffled inside the towel. I exposed just a little bit of his face, peeking in at him. He grinned. I whipped off the towel. His hair was going in every direction, but at least it wasn't dripping. “Better?” I asked. “Now I have to start all over,” he complained, smiling. “You want some cheese with that whine?” I asked. He stuck out his tiny pink tongue at me. I chuckled. “Alright, hurry up so I can get a shower, too,” I told him. “Go ahead,” he said, casually. “I don't care.” “I think I'll wait,” I smiled. He met my eyes in my reflection. “I already saw your thing before.” “Yeah, well, my 'thing' is still traumatized and trying to forget,” I explained. “He's very shy. So I'll just wait.” Adam shrugged, and continued to comb his hair. After a couple of minutes I realized that he was just dawdling. “Alright, Vidal Sassoon,” I said, hustling him to the door. “You're done.” “Who's Vidal Sassoon?” he asked, trying to slow himself, actually leaning backwards and walking on his heels as I gently shoved him towards the door with a hand on his back. “Someone who likes taking too much time combing his hair,” I said. I ushered him out the door. “Dinner will be ready soon. I'll be right out,” I told him, then I closed the door. Dropping my towel, I hopped into the shower. I washed quickly, but apparently not quickly enough. The door opened and Adam stood in the doorway, watching me. I knew I should have locked it. I also knew that I should cover myself, or turn away, but Adam's eyes were glowing as he stared at my naked body, and let's face it, it gave me a bit of a thrill. “I called my mom,” he said, establishing his reason for barging in apparently. “She said it's ok.” “I'd have liked to talk to her,” I said. Eyes not leaving my crotch, he shook his head and said, “I had to call three times before she heard it. I told you she would be at the bar. She said she didn't care where I stayed and to leave her alone.” I felt a guilty pang, which honestly helped Brad Junior from rising, which I sensed he wanted to do. “Well, ok,” I said. “Now scat! Haven't you ever heard of privacy?” “Sorry,” he said, his little grin making it plain he wasn't sorry at all. He slid the door shut. I chuckled and started to finish my shower when the door opened not more than five seconds later. Adam was once again staring as he asked, “What's for dinner?” “Out!” I cried, unable to help laughing. With a giggle Adam shut the door again. This time he left me in peace long enough to finish my shower and dry myself. I realized then I'd made a tactical error in not bringing something to change into, and I opened the door expecting to find Adam waiting for me. However, the coast was clear. Wrapped again in a towel, I hurried to my dresser, pulled out a pair of black briefs and a pair of my jogging shorts and quickly dressed. I found Adam standing in front of the fireplace. “Can we have a fire?” he asked. “It's almost summer,” I pointed out. He looked at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Pleeeease?” I shielded my eyes as if I were a vampire being presented with a cross. “Not the puppydog eyes!” I cried in mock horror. Adam giggled and made a mewling little puppy sound, his eyes growing even larger. I laughed. “Ok, enough already,” I begged. “Yes, we can have a fire.” “Yay!” I already had a few logs laid in the hearth, but of course I hadn't expected to be using them until maybe October. Trying to remember the instructions I'd received about the flue, hoping it was in the open position, I grabbed the lighter from inside the fireplace tool container... or whatever you'd call it, and held it to the logs. Adam was squatting next to me, the hem of his t-shirt probably riding high enough to be very revealing if I were in a different position to view him. I swallowed. “I think you need paper,” he said. “Or kindling.” I mentally smacked my head. “Right,” I said. I went to the little secretary in the foyer where I kept my mail and tore a couple of pieces of notebook paper from a pad. Crumbling them, I returned to the fireplace. Adam was still squatting and the hem of his shirt was tightly molded to his backside. I'm sure that if I were to get closer to the floor I'd have seen a couple of dangly bits, but of course there was no way of doing that without blatantly announcing the fact that I was attempting to look at his dangly bits. I smooshed the crumpled paper into a crack between a couple of logs, and then tried the lighter again. The paper blackened quickly, and Adam and I waited in anticipation to see if the logs would light as well. After a tense half minute, there were still flames, so I leaned back and cried, “Success! We have made fire! We are men!” “We are men!” Adam cried, cheering and grunting. “Me go kitchen,” I said in my best Neanderthal accent. “Me kill pizza. We eat.” “Pizza good,” Adam grunted, playing along. “Kill pizza good! We men!” So we ate frozen pizza in front of the fire, Adam sipping on another Mountain Dew, me with another beer. It was honestly too warm for a fire, and I was glad I hadn't put on a shirt, but Adam was loving it, often losing himself as he stared into the flames. For my part, I tried to fight my nature and not continually peek between his leg, trying to get a look at things I shouldn't be looking at. I honestly couldn't remember ever having a better evening. After dinner, Adam again helped me clean up, although considering we'd used paper plates, which he suggested just putting in the dying fire, it was mostly a matter of throwing away the can and bottle into the blue recycling bin. I then suggested we watch a movie, and gave Adam the opportunity to choose the film from my large collection of Blu-rays. He went with Avatar, which he claimed to have never seen. I loved the look on his cute little face when I revealed the television. It was hidden behind a panel in the wall, and was revealed with the push of a button, the wall sliding up and the tv sliding silently forward. It really was impressive. It was a 103” Bang & Olufsen, which honestly didn't mean much to me. I just knew it was gigantic and expensive as hell at nearly 150k. Between that and the surround sound system, well, let's just say the movie was an immersive experience. However, if I'm being honest, I was much more immersed in the feel of Adam's warm little body curled up against mine, the sight of his smooth, bare thighs, and his hands, which kept dipping under the hem of his shirt to fiddle with things. I was grateful my designer Kathy had provided a few throw pillows for the couch, perfect for setting in one's lap. After the movie, Adam was amped. He couldn’t stop talking about it, reliving all the best scenes as if I hadn't just been there to watch it with him. Finally, I announced it was time for bed. I led him to one of the downstairs bedrooms. “Will you be ok in here?” I asked, opening the bedroom door. Adam looked stricken. “I thought I could sleep in your bed,” he said in a small voice. I was afraid of that. Adam wasn't the only one amped up after the movie. Heck, after the whole day. I wanted nothing more than to go upstairs, jack off and get some sleep. If Adam was in bed with me, I was pretty sure neither of those things was going to happen. Still, I knew there was no way I could refuse him. I rolled my eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Again with the puppydog eyes,” I lamented. Adam grinned and once again gave me his best mewling puppy imitation, leaning against me, staring up with exaggeratedly large eyes and pawing gently at my chest. “Fine! Enough!” I cried. “And the Oscar goes to Adam Ramsey!” Adam giggled sweetly. “Alright,” I sighed, smacking him on the bottom. “Up the stairs.” Adam didn't hesitate, racing up the stairs like a shot. I did a quick run through the downstairs, locking doors, adjusting lights and windows, making sure the fire was dead and the screen in place in case I was wrong. When I got to my bedroom, I found Adam already curled up in my bed, the covers nearly to his chin. “This is the most comfortable bed ever,” he announced. “I'm glad you like it,” I smiled. “It's like sleeping in a cloud,” he said. “Well, angels are supposed to sleep in clouds,” I said, making Adam giggle. “Ok, Adam,” I said, standing beside the bed. “This is bedtime, ok? Not playtime. Understand?” “Yes, sir!” he said, giving me a snappy salute. I grinned. This would be alright. Right? I mean, sure, he was eleven, I was thirty-eight. He was cute, I was horny. I mean, what could go wrong? Adam had a bit of a naughty streak, and the last thing I needed in my bed at thirty-eight was a cute as hell, half-naked eleven-year-old with a naughty streak. I sighed, realizing this was a horrible idea. Well, there was nothing for it. I went to the panel by the door and announced, “Ok, lights out, soldier.” I flipped the switch, plunging us into darkness. I then made my way to the bed by feel and memory. At the bedside I slid off my shorts, keeping my briefs on of course, and then slid into the soft warmth of the bed. Then I thought perhaps I should have left my shorts on. Then I thought perhaps I should go put on a track suit. Or a set of Kevlar. I wondered if I would be comfortable sleeping in Kevlar. “Brad?” Adam spoke softly in the darkness. “Yeah?” “Thanks a lot for letting me stay. And for everything today.” I smiled, although he couldn't see it. “It was my pleasure, Adam. I'm glad you could be here.” And, in spite of my misgivings, that was true. “This is the best day I ever had,” he sighed contentedly. “Me, too,” I said, and that was true, too. So I settled into sleep, trying to ignore the dull, distant ache in my balls. I probably should have jacked off in the bathroom before getting into bed. Ah well, too late now. I felt my body slowly relaxing, lulled by Adam's soft breathing and the warmth of his body under the covers with me. Of course, I should have known better than to think that would be it. A few minutes later Adam spoke up softly, asking, “Brad?” “Hmm?” “Can I take off my shirt? I'm too warm.” “Uh, sure, if you like,” I allowed, honestly not really thinking about what that meant. Adam apparently felt the need to clarify. “That means I'll be naked,” he said. “Oh. Right,” I said, my mind already a bit foggy with impending sleep. “Well, whatever you like.” Some soft shuffling noises, and barely felt movement. It really was a good mattress. I heard a softly muffled flump as his shirt hit the floor beside the bed. Another minute went by before, “Brad?” “Hmm?” I answered sleepily. “Are you still wearing your shorts?” Adam's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Huh?” I asked fuzzily. “No, I took them off.” A few more seconds while Adam apparently digested this information, then, “Are you wearing anything?” I sighed. Not frustrated exactly, just tired. If I took a moment to think about it, this was a sexy little situation, but frankly, I was mostly 'sexy little situation'-ed out for the day and I just wanted to sleep. “I'm wearing underwear, Adam,” I finally said. “And I'm trying to sleep.” “Ok, sorry,” he said. Of course, if I'd thought that was the end of it I'd have again been wrong. “It's just,” he started again, “if you wanted to take them off, that's ok. I wouldn't mind.” I sighed and rolled to my right side, facing him although I could barely see him. Reaching out I found his chest and placed my hand there, fingers spread wide on his smooth skin. “Adam?” “Yeah?” he asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice I thought. “Adam, you're a lovely boy. I like you a lot, and I'll do most anything to make you happy, but if someone were to ever ask, I think I'd like to be able to say I didn't get naked when I had an eleven-year-old boy sleeping in my bed with me.” Adam seemed to think about that for a few seconds, then said, “I saw your thing before.” “Yes,” I sighed. “I think we've established that.” “It's really big.” I couldn't help but chuckle and flop onto my back, defeated. Apparently we were going to talk. “Well, thank you, I think.” “It's just, I never saw a grown-up's before,” he said. “Well, I did once. One of my mom's boyfriends. I saw him peeing one night when I went to the bathroom.” “Uh-huh,” I replied tiredly. “It was a lot bigger than yours,” he said. I gave a rueful chuckle. “Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically. Adam seemed to realize that he might have given some offense. “Oh, sorry. I just meant it was really gross.” “Ah,” I said, not sure if I was mollified. “Yours looks nice,” he said. “Ok, again, thank you, I think. Can you do me a favor?” “What?” “Can we stop talking about my penis?” Adam giggled softly. “We could talk about mine,” he suggested. I gave a quiet laugh. “It would be a short conversation,” I joked. Adam gave me a raspberry in the darkness. “I saw you lookin' at it,” he said. “I never did,” I protested. “Uh-huh,” he insisted. “At the pool. Plus practically all night. You kept peeking. Plus you said I had a hot body.” “Lies and slander.” “What's slander?” “It's when someone says you did something you didn't do,” I explained. “Well, you did,” he insisted. “Bah!” Apparently I was out of rejoinders. I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Perv.” “Sex monkey.” How's that for a rejoinder? Adam giggled. “What's a sex monkey?” “You are a sex monkey,” I told him. “A little boy who can't think about anything other than sex.” Adam thought about this for a few moments, and then started making quiet little monkey noises. “See?” I said. “Sex monkey.” “Perv.” “Ahhh!” I cried in mock frustration. “Go to sleep!” Mercifully, he did.
* * * * *
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. My eyelids fluttered open and I took a moment, just staring at the ceiling, adjusting to wakefulness. I slowly became aware that I had an armful of sleeping boy. Adam was lying against me, his right arm across my chest, his right leg flung over my mine. His soft breathing was warm and moist against my chest. There was an equally warm and moist something poking against my waist. I lifted my arm, gently caressing his wonderfully smooth back, from shoulders, down to the gentle swell of his little bubble butt. He murmured softly in his sleep, thrusting against me with his stiff little penis. I just lay there, enjoying the reflection of the sun on the water across my ceiling, luxuriating in the sensual sensation of Adam's small body against mine. A familiar tightness in my groin alerted me to the fact that Adam wasn't the only one afflicted with some morning stiffness. Moving slowly, I gently extricated myself from the tangle of little limbs and slid quietly from the bed. Adam sighed in his sleep and gave a little grumble and rolled onto his back, his right arm draped over his chest, his left flung out, his legs gaping widely. I couldn't help myself, slowly pulling back the sheet to reveal his little body in all it's perfection. Of course, I'd seen most of him at one time or another yesterday. Still, there was something about this setting, with his little body contrast against the whiteness of the sheets, that made him seem angelic. His reddish hair sparkled in the morning sun, still a fine cloud around his head. His small pink lips were slightly parted, his breath making strands of stray hair float and dance. His chest was smooth, with tiny little moles or freckles dotted here and there, adding a hint of interest. The direct light of the sun on his body revealed the tiniest little coating of golden hairs on his arms and across his chest and tummy, on his smooth thighs, and across his calves. Flat on his back, you could see the well defined little V of muscle that started at his hips and led down to his pubis, the area so much paler than the rest of his body. From there his legs spread out, long and lean and lightly muscled. Coltish, I suppose is how one would describe them. Of course, your interest is exactly where mine was, and as beautiful as the entire package might be, it was the package itself, so to speak, that demands our attention. And demanding it was. It was actually bigger than I'd anticipated. Adam apparently was a grower, not a shower. The tiny lump I'd seen in his wet underpants the day before hadn't prepared me for this. It rose at a forty-five degree angle from his hairless groin and measured a bit over three inches long. He was circumcised, as I'd seen before, and the small, slightly flared little helmet was a spot of rosy color at the tip of the pale shaft. His olive-sized testicles were drawn up tightly in his wrinkled little sac, whether naturally or from excitement I couldn’t tell. There was a thin line of tissue to show where his balls were bisected, and a thick ridge under the skin of his cock that ran from his balls up along his thin shaft, to just under the head. The shaft itself, under an inch thick, was covered with a barely discernible tracery of purplish veins. Needing to get away before I did something I'd regret, I allowed the sheet to gently fall back into place, and then, my own stiff cock pressing obscenely against my briefs, leading me, I made my way to the bathroom. My briefs, complete with a large damp circle on the front, went into the hamper. I usually didn't shower before my morning jog, but this was more about release than anything. It took fewer strokes than I care to admit before I was shooting ropey streams of cum across the shower. I was frankly a bit shocked at the force of my emission. I hadn't come that far since I was a kid. I had to use the hand-held shower attachment to get the sticky mess off the shower glass. Quickly drying off, I cracked the door and peeked into my room. Adam was still asleep, so I took the chance to sneak to my dresser for a fresh pair of briefs. The little pup tent he was making in the sheet almost made my recent act pointless. I found my shorts on the side of the bed and pulled them on, forcing myself not to look at the little boy in my bed. Downstairs I pulled on socks and was tying my shoes when Adam appeared at the top of the stairs. Thankfully he'd at least put his shirt back on over his naked body. “Where are you going?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Goin' for a run,” I told him. “Can I go?” he asked, coming further down the stairs. Oh lord, I could see the little indentation his erection was making under his t-shirt. I preferred to run alone, but I didn't want to tell him no. “You can come if you like, but I'm not going to slow down for you,” I equivocated. “Will you wait for me?” he asked, rushing down the steps. “Ok, but hurry.” “Uh... where's my underwear?” Wow, first time a boy ever asked me that. “Laundry room,” I said. I pointed beyond the kitchen. “Through there.” He raced down the hall. He was back a moment later, zipping up his cutoffs. He hurried past me. “I left my shoes upstairs,” he told me on his way back up the steps. The door leading to the hot tub opened, then closed, and after a few moments he was back, properly shod. He hurried down the stairs and jumped in front of me, practically bouncing with excitement. “Ready!” “Alright, let's go.” I unlocked the door, set the windows for clear, and then waited for Adam to slip by me so I could pull the door shut. I wasn't kidding about not slowing for him. I ran for the exercise, not for the sightseeing. We left the house behind, heading along my normal route around the lake. I didn't sprint by any means, but I kept up a steady pace and I've got a pretty long stride. Adam struggled to keep up, but he eventually fell behind. I felt a pang of guilt, but I didn't let it slow me. I'd warned him after all. I ran west along the lakeside. Well, not exactly along the lakeside. There were no paths here along the lake, paved or otherwise, as nice as that might have been. Rather, I ran a trail that was mostly devoid of trees that I'd blazed myself. Sometimes it ran within ten feet of the shore, sometimes as far away as sixty feet. It meandered in a general westerly direction. I guesstimated that the path was about two miles. It led to the western edge of the lake and then north. I didn't run around the entire lake, as it would have probably been close to seven miles. I liked exercise, but I wasn't crazy about it. When I reached my turnaround point, I searched the side of the lake for sight of Adam. I finally caught a glimpse of him between the trees, maybe half a mile back. He apparently saw me too, for he immediately turned around and started jogging back the way he'd come. I caught up to him maybe a quarter of a mile from the house. I took pity on him at that point and matched his slightly slower pace. About a hundred yards out, I slowed to a walk. He looked grateful to do the same, breathing heavily. We walked the rest of the way in companionable silence. “You're fast,” he finally said, still a little breathless as we reached the paved drive in front of the house. “Just long legs,” I told him. “I'm impressed you stayed up as well as you did.” He grinned up at me. “Thanks.” “Credit where it's due,” I told him. As we walked through the front door I said, “Let me grab a shower and I'll get us something for breakfast. How does waffles sound?” “I love waffles,” he assured me. “Waffles it is,” I said, mounting the stairs. About halfway up I realized he was following me. I stopped and looked at him questioningly. “Can I take a shower, too?” he asked. He pulled his damp shirt away from his chest. “I'm all sweaty.” “Of course, buddy,” I told him, resuming the climb. “You can wait for me, or you can use one of the bathrooms downstairs.” I had kicked off my shoes downstairs by the door. I stood in the doorway of the bathroom and lifted a leg to pull off my sock. Adam was still with me. Seeing my look, he blushed a little bit and said, “Could I take a shower with you?” I just stood there for a moment, staring at him, still holding one bent leg, my sock halfway off. The idea, as you can imagine, was intriguing. Probably not very smart, however. I shook my head and finished removing my sock. “I don't think that's a good idea, Adam.” Adam flushed further. “I already saw you naked,” he said. “Two times.” “Well, you'd be naked too, you know,” I reminded him. I didn't think it was possible, but Adam blushed even deeper. He gave a little shrug, not meeting my eyes. “I don't mind,” he said softly. He looked at me quickly to judge my reaction and lowered his eyes again. “I don't care if you see.” He bit his lower lip. “Adam...” I began, my resolve wavering in the face of that little lip chew. He turned those big green eyes on me, full effect. “Pwease?” “Oh my God,” I exclaimed in shocked disbelief. “Did you just say pwease?” Adam gave a shy little grin and came towards me, once again breaking out his little puppy whine. He batted at my chest, his fingers folded under, forming little paws. He blinked up at me from under those beautiful bangs. “Pwetty pwease?” I groaned in mock distress, grabbing my chest. “Too... much... cuteness,” I gasped. “Must... resist!” Adam giggled. “You fight dirty,” I said in disgust. “Fine, we can shower together.” Adam's eyes lit with excitement. “Get in there before I change my mind,” I warned, then I smacked him on his ass as he went by. As I turned on and adjusted the water, Adam sat on the toilet and pulled off his socks. He stood and stripped off his shirt and then his cutoffs and then stood watching me. Giving him what privacy I could, I turned, stripped off my shorts and briefs, and stepped into the shower. Keeping my back to him, I stepped forward under the large ceiling mounted rain head. Or whatever it was called. After a few moments I sensed Adam join me. “Is it safe to turn?” I asked. “Ok,” Adam said, his voice faint. I turned slowly and looked down. Adam was right behind me, close enough to enjoy the spray from the large showerhead overhead, which had already plastered his hair down across his face. His arms were crossed, hands low on his stomach. I could tell from his posture, slightly hunched, legs practically crossed, that he desperately wanted to cover himself, but he was braving my view. His little penis poked straight out over his balls, which themselves were hanging looser than they had been that morning. Flaccid, Adam was just over an inch long, a pale, wrinkled little worm. A little stream of water jumped off his dick like it was a ski ramp. He had a thick ring of tissue just beneath the little reddish head, the obvious remnants of his foreskin. It made it look as if his little dickie was wearing a dickie. “Do you want the bar soap or the body soap?” I asked, choosing to pretend as if showering naked with eleven-year-old boys was a common occurrence for me. He shyly met my eyes, which I made sure didn't glance down while he looked at me, and in a soft voice said, “Body soap, please.” I turned to the little built in shelves and grabbed the bottle of Old Spice body wash and handed it to Adam. He fumbled it open and squirted a large dollop into his hand while I grabbed my shampoo and quickly lathered my hair, stepping back out of the spray as I did. I noticed that Adam was sufficiently recovered from his embarrassment to have his eyes locked on my cock. As I said, I'm not particularly well-hung, but I could see where it would look large to a child. I hung about four inches when flaccid. The pubic hair had to be an area of interest as well, I imagined. I, of course, made an attempt to disguise the fact that I was watching every move Adam made. I'm not sure how successful I was, or rather would have been, given that my efforts were made moot by the fact that the kid never once glanced up to meet my eyes, instead being focused entirely on my body. Adam started by lathering his little hairless armpits. Another squirt of soap and he did his arms. Each body part earned a new little dollop of soap, and after each he'd bend over and put the bottle at his feet. I seriously considered making a joke about dropping the soap, but I didn't want to alarm him. At least his back wasn't to me when he was bending over. A mixed blessing. Adam soaped up his chest and tummy next. I envied each of those suds that raced downward to his crotch. Ever envy a sud? Yeah, new experience for me, too. “Do you got a washcloth?” Adam suddenly asked, and his eyes finally meeting mine. He caught me watching him and we both blushed a little. “Uh, sure,” I said. I looked around. I knew I had them somewhere. Aha! I spotted them hanging over a towel bar, in a decorative display with a hand towel and a larger towel. Kathy's work. It was a quick matter to open the shower door and pluck it off the bar. “Here ya go,” I said, handing it to him. He wet the cloth, then grabbed the soap again and squeezed out a bit on it. He looked at me and I realized I'd been staring again. Once again, we both shared a blush. “I gotta wash my butt with it,” he said. I wasn't sure if it was an explanation, an apology, or a request for permission. “Oh, of course,” I said, waving him to proceed. “Man needs to keep his butt clean.” He grinned at me and then reached behind himself and began to swipe the cloth up and down in his asscrack. I felt my cock give a twinge. Dammit, not now. To hide my growing excitement, yeah, I called it my excitement, I reached down and grabbed the soap from Adam's feet and began to soap up my arms and upper body, eyes averted. Still, I could tell I was plumping up a bit, if not actually rising. “Can I get a little more soap?” Adam asked. “Uh, sure,” I said. He held out his hand and I give him a little squirt. He rubbed his hands together, gave me an odd look, blushed, and then looked down as he began to soap up his crotch. I watched his hands sliding all around his crotch, under his little balls, squishing around his slim penis and my cock gave another lurch. I wanted to tear my eyes away, but I couldn't. Adam released his cock, and continued to soap around it, making it bounce. And then I realized it wasn't just the motion of his nearby hands that was causing it to jump. As I watched, that little worm began to stretch. In moments it was pointing straight out, smoother and about three inches long. It took three more lurching bounces, growing a smidge with each, and then it was pointing upright. Mine was completely erect, jutting obscenely from my body about four seconds later. I saw Adam's eyes, which had been locked on it, widen. Suddenly Adam snorted with laughter. “You got a boner.” I scowled, blushing despite myself. “You started it,” I accused, waving a hand at his crotch. Adam seemed to just realize he was fully erect. He reached down a soapy hand, but instead of hiding it, he just wrapped a fist around it. That left just a bit of the rosy little tip sticking out. That was somehow worse than seeing it fully exposed. My cock jerked in response. “It's really big,” he said softly, eyes locked on my bouncing cock. “Do you think mine will get that big?” “Probably bigger,” I told him. “You're already pretty big for your age, and mine is only average.” “Mine is big?” he asked, releasing it. It shot straight up, so stiff it didn't even bounce. “It's very nice,” I said. “Now put it away before someone gets hurt.” Adam giggled and wrapped his fist around it again. His eyes were back on mine. “Brad?” “Yeah?” I asked. I figured I might as well get it over with, and I quickly lathered up my cock and crotch, rushing through it to get it over with as quickly as possible. Adam licked his lips and asked, “Do you... you know...?” and he stroked his cock three or four times to illustrate. Lord help me. I had no choice but to turn away from him. If I kept watching I was going to come without even touching myself, and how the hell would I explain that? “Yeah, Adam,” I admitted. “All guys do.” Then, to get myself out of this situation, realizing the mistake I'd made, I said, “You about done? I'm getting out.” “But I haven't washed my hair yet,” he protested. “Well, you can take care of that, can't you? I need to get those waffles cooking.” “Can't you help me wash it?” he asked. “And you could wash my back, too.” “Adam...” “Please?” This was like torture. I mean, good as torture went, I admit; I'd take this over waterboarding any day, but it was still torture. I grabbed the shampoo, squirted it generously into my hand and then stepped up behind Adam. “Close your eyes,” I warned, and then I began to lather his hair. “This way,” he insisted, and then he turned to face me, his head tilted back so it wasn't in the overhead spray, which meant I had to lean forward a bit to get to the long hair in the back. The head of my throbbing cock was now about two inches from his chest. I swallowed and continued to lather. “Ok, rinse,” I said finally, putting a bit of pressure on the back of his head so he'd lean forward. I can only imagine that, looking downward now, Adam opened his eyes and saw my cock only a few inches beneath his chin. The next thing I knew his small fist was wrapping around my shaft. I jerked in surprise and jumped back out of reach. “Ok, shower's over,” I said, perhaps a bit more harshly than I'd intended. I could still feel his hand on my throbbing cock as if he were still touching me, and my entire body was thrumming like I'd touched a live wire. “I'm sorry!” Adam said, stricken. I turned to see him, still erect of course, but face beginning to crumble. I felt a strange mix of excitement and sympathy. My own face softened. “I'm sorry, Adam,” I said gently. “I didn't mean to snap. You just... surprised me. That's all.” “I just...” he tried to explain, eyes downcast. “I'm sorry, Brad.” Then he looked up and I could see the tears slowly filling his green eyes. They overfilled and spilled down his cheek. “Please don't hate me,” he said in a trembling voice. I felt like such a huge asshole, about two inches tall. A little childish curiosity, something any boy might feel in this situation, and I react like I'm about to get raped in an alley. My heart wrenched in my chest. In an instant I was on my knees in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his wet, little body and pulled him against me, my face against his chest, his rapid little heartbeat strong against my ear. “I could never hate you, Adam,” I said fiercely. “You didn't do anything wrong. You hear me?” I asked, pulling back enough to look him in his eyes. “You didn't. It's just... I'm just an idiot, ok? Can you forgive me?” “You're not mad at me?” he asked uncertainly. “I love you, Adam,” I said, shocking the hell out of myself when I realized I was speaking with absolute and utter conviction. “I love you, too,” he whispered, and then he collapsed into my embrace, his arms hugging me, his face against my neck as he cried. I sat and gathered him into my lap, cradling him. “It's ok. Shhhh, it's ok,” I repeated over and over, rocking him gently, feeling my own tears warm on my cheeks, able somehow to trace each one in spite of the water cascading over us.
* * * * *
I'm not sure how long we sat there. Ten minutes at least. Perhaps longer. The water remained warm thanks to a great water heater. Eventually, I lifted his face, wiped water away from his eyes, and placed a gentle kiss on his brow. We rose then, and I gently dried Adam and then myself and we headed into my room, where I dressed. Of course, that brought up the issue of what Adam was supposed to wear. His clothes were in a stinky little pile on the bathroom floor, still damp with sweat. I gave him a t-shirt to wear. It was even larger than the one he'd been wearing before and the hem hit him at the knees. I gathered his clothes, plus those of mine that were in the hamper. I'd have to do a load of wash. The first thing I did when I got downstairs was adjust the windows to one way. The last thing I needed was for some meter reader or a stray Girl Scout selling cookies to come up to the house and see Adam traipsing around in just a t-shirt. After I got the clothes in, I started on breakfast. I usually just had a bit of fruit, sometimes a bagel or piece of toast with it, but I wanted to do something special for Adam, so I broke out the unused waffle maker and proceeded to make a mess of my kitchen. Luckily, I had some blueberries, which we added to the batter. Breakfast was a fun and casual affair, all the awkwardness from earlier forgotten as we joked and smiled and just generally enjoyed each others company. I don't know if I've mentioned just how intelligent Adam was. He carried on a conversation like an adult. Sure, there were bouts of silliness, but I was prone to those myself. The point is, he was knowledgeable about a decent number of subjects and could expound on those intelligently. Even when he didn't know about something, he was smart enough to ask the right questions. We were cleaning up after breakfast when Adam asked, “Can we go swimming after we clean up?” I had no agenda, so I shrugged and said, “Sure.” “Cool,” he grinned. After the kitchen was clean, I transferred the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer, and slipped into my trunks, which had been in the dryer. Then we headed out to the pool. Now, the more cynical among you would imagine I somehow planned what happened next. Authorities would certainly accuse me of 'grooming' or some such nonsense, but I honestly hadn't thought about it. The more astute among you have probably already twigged to the dilemma. I opened the door to the pool and held it for Adam, who slipped past me, and then turned to me and gave an embarrassed shrug. “Guess I'll have to skinnydip, huh?” And of course that's when it hit me. All his clothes were in the dryer. I was about to suggest that we could grab his wet undies out of the dryer, they were just going to get wet anyway, but Adam had already stripped off my shirt and, pale ass flashing, jumped into the pool. I'll admit that the cynical part of me wondered if he had planned that, but after our cathartic moment earlier, I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. I made sure not only that the windows were set to reflective, but that the door was locked, before joining him in the pool. So we played around for a few hours in the pool. All perfectly innocent, as long as you ignored Adam's nudity, his frequent erections, my frequent erections, his simmering sensuality, his awkward attempts to seduce me, and my burning desire for his barely pubescent cock. See? Might as well have been a couple of nuns in there. We decided to break for lunch. Just my luck that this happened to coincide with one of Adam's aforementioned erections. I had the thought that we could wait to retreat back to the house until such time as the turgid little fellow decided to take a nap, but honestly, we could well have starved. By this time, Adam had ceased making any pretense of hiding his stiff little cock from me. In fact, he seemed quite proud to show it off, and I strongly suspected he knew exactly the effect he was having on me. As I helped him dry off, at his insistence I assure you, I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with just skipping his crotch as I'd done the day before, but I was as business-like as I could manage. Still, the feeling of that throbbing little boner, even through the towel, affected me to the point that I had to disguise my own erection by wrapping the towel around my middle. As we exited the pool house and traversed the twenty feet or so of open space between there and the side door, I resolved to have a privacy fence installed to shield that area from view. I then mentally kicked myself, realizing Adam was skipping ahead of me buck naked, his little erection waving proudly, and here I was wrapped in a towel he should be wearing, despite having trunks on underneath. The kid was turning me into a moron. Lunch was turkey sandwiches and homemade vegetable soup and it was eaten sitting in bar stools at the island in the kitchen, with me in my damp trunks, sitting on the folded towel to protect the wood, and Adam still naked, having refused to put on the clothes I pulled out of the dryer for him, reasoning that he'd just have to take them off again after lunch to go swimming again. Take it from me that it's incredibly difficult to argue with that kind of eleven-year-old logic, especially when it's sporting an erection throughout the meal which his hand couldn't seem to ignore. As for myself, I was hypnotized by that hand, and the contents of it, of course. Adam ate with his right hand, soup and sandwich, while his left rarely left his lap. I tried to ignore him, but my eyes were constantly drawn to his crotch. I watched as his fingers idly stroked his little erection, up one side, down the other. He'd fondle his little nutsac, or squeeze the spongy little head. Eventually he started to run his hand up over his tightly drawn-up balls, then in a very loose grip up along the shaft, the head, and then off. Almost like jacking off in reverse. Over and over, balls, shaft, head, balls, shaft, head, ad infinitum. Each time he'd reach the top and release his slender dick, it would quiver while his hand returned to his balls for another upward journey. The worst part, is that he didn't even seem to be aware of it. He just continued on chatting and eating while his hand gently stroked his boner. Finally, as he was finishing the last of his soup, bent over his bowl a bit so he wouldn't spill, I saw him take his cock in a tight grip and shudder. He leaned back a bit and stared down. He bit his upper lip this time, and his little body shivered again. He looked up then and nervously met my eye. “Brad?” he said, in an embarrassed tone of voice. I nodded and stood, understanding completely. I was glad the island was between us to hide my own straining erection. “You know what to do?” I asked him. Again, he bit his upper lip in a cute gesture that seemed to somehow perfectly convey a sense of intense sexual desire, and he nodded. “I'll be in the laundry room, folding clothes,” I informed him. He gave me a look of such gratitude that it was all I could do not to chuckle, but I forced a straight face, not wanting to embarrass him. Besides, it really wasn't all that funny. The air was thick with sexual tension, and I thought, discretion being the better part of valor, that the situation called for a hasty retreat. I walked out of the room, but I didn't fold any clothes. In fact, I'd already folded all the clothes. The laundry was just an excuse to give him his much desired privacy. I longed to peek. God, did I long to peek, but I wanted to respect him, and I was afraid of how he'd react if he saw me. Still, I leaned my back against the wall as soon as I was out of sight, but still within earshot, and I swear I could hear his little hand working, skin against skin and he desperately jacked his young cock. Even if the sound of his hand was supplied by my overactive imagination, the sound of his breathing wasn't. It was labored and panting. Fumbling in my haste, I pushed my trunks down enough to free my cock, and I began to jack it furiously as I strained to listen. Finally, I heard a couple of high-pitched strangled little gasps and, with a shudder of release, I shot my load onto the tiled floor at my feet. I just stood there for a minute afterward, cock in hand, trying to control my breathing. Eventually I straightened and stuffed my softening cock back into my trunks after giving it a squeeze and getting a handful of leftover jizz. I grabbed a couple of paper towels off the dispenser over the washer and cleaned off my hand, then I crumpled it up and carefully wiped up the mess I'd left on the floor. “Brad?” Adam called out while I was wiping up the last of the evidence of my perversity. “Yeah?” “Can we get in the hot tub instead of swimming again?” “Sure, buddy,” I called. “I'll be right up and help you.” “I can do it!” “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” “Ok, well, be careful with the cover,” I called. “It's a bit heavy.” “Ok,” he called, but I could already hear him headed up the stairs. I took a moment to collect myself and then I left the laundry room. I stopped in the kitchen and straightened the bar stool where he'd been sitting, snooping. I'm not sure for what. Did I expect to find drops of watery boycum splattered on the wooden front of the island, or puddled on the floor? Surely he was too young for that. Maybe it was just an opportunity to be in that space, to somehow share the lingering essence of his youthful release. I sighed. Look at me. Wasn't I a mess? I was waxing philosophic over a preteen orgasm. Less than three days, and this kid had taken up permanent residence inside my head, and as if that weren't bad enough, there was only room for him, so he was chucking out useless junk like my self-control, my morality, and my common sense. I was honestly afraid that the next thing to go would be my sense of self-preservation. The worst part? I saw it all happening, and I was completely helpless to stop it.
And
thus ends Part 3. Hope you've enjoyed our journey thus far.
Want to thank you for sticking with me this far. I know
this isn't your typical Nifty story, which dives right into the hot
monkey sex. As I promised at the start, we'll get there. I
hope the hints along the way have been enough to whet your appetite.
A number of you have asked for information on other stories I've
written. So to keep you reading until Part 4, feel free to peruse
any of the following. These are all different in their own way,
and may not all be to your taste, but hopefully you'll find something
in there you can enjoy. |