You kids under 18? You know you're not supposed to be reading this. Here, I know: Take the no pics, no hands challenge. Show us old farts the power of youth. Meanwhile, the rest of you, c'mere. This story is Copyright 2015 by Soaringtoad. No other reproduction or distribution than Nifty Archives is permitted, without the author's permission. Please donate to Nifty:


Derrin 2

Tuesday was a half day at school. The short bus was dropping us off, when a new-ish motorcycle roared up and the rider swung off and tugged his helmet open. Derrin! Nice package on that boy.

"Sorry," he said, right to me, "Events conspired, as they say."

I sighed, just to look at him in those nice button-fly Levis. We went in to get me changed. He seemed in a bit of a hurry. He closed and locked the door.

"Hey, wanna take a stroll, after this?"

I hooted my 'Yes.' Is this a date?

He gently tended me, then tugged and fondled me to a deep, sharp cum. Again, the reality of it shook me. He did something with his hand that left my insides quivering. No kink, just plain vanilla, wholesome homosex of the disabled teen variety. As an instant "old hand," so to speak, I'll just say that sometimes that's plenty good enough, especially with Derrin.

We were leaving right at snack time. He threw some snacks and a couple of things into the bag on the back of my chair and off we went. When we got outside, he asked, "So, the park?"

I hooted once, and he turned right, heading toward the back path into the park. We crossed the street and headed down the asphalt path between the trees.

"You warm enough?" he asked me. Two hoots. He digs out a lap robe, tucks it around me.

"There, how about now?" One hoot.

"You let me know if you start getting too hot under that." One hoot.

We come up to a bench. He stops and points me facing it. Then sits down and pulls me up close to him. He turns his marvelous eyes on me, a gentle expression on his face.

"I need to talk with you. There's some things... to discuss."

"I guess you know this, but I don't work directly for CPF [the operator of the communal home]. I work for APT, which is a company that contracts with CPF to provide certain care. I... You know I really care about you. I mean you, yourself, specifically, as a person. I think you know that." One hoot.

"But you never know: I could be transferred or fired, or we could lose the contract when it comes up for renewal at the end of the year. I think you shouldn't get too attached to me. Not just me."

"I, uhh... I want to move ahead with my education. I applied to the Physician's Assistant program at the med school and it looks like I'm going to get in for next winter, to start catching up a couple of prerequisite deficiencies."

I felt my heart sinking. It got hard to breathe.

"What all this is leading up to is, I want you to meet someone. I want you to know someone else, widen your circle a little."

My 'circle?' I looked into his eyes. He looked pleased. Nervous, but pleased: "His name is Terry."

I don't know what I had been thinking. Come on, did I think this was fated to go on forever? He and I had been going to run away together? What? To a care facility on a desert island? You know, I toyed a little at the edge of despair. It would have been easy enough to roll right in. But I looked into his eyes. I looked at his lips, at his gentle face, and I just felt so damn lucky. I guess one chapter was destined to end, but Derrin had blessed me with his beautiful, kind heart. Had given me a missing piece of myself. If he wanted me to meet this Terry? Hey, maybe I was on a winning streak. Maybe Destiny had sent me Derrin to introduce me to Terry. Destiny had certainly given him that kind heart, that big dick, that heavenly hot load. Maybe Destiny would make him shoot it right in my mouth. My insides trembled. Do I need to tell you my dick was hard again? Where would you have gotten a dumb idea like that?

I looked pointedly at his crotch and hooted "Yes." Low and slow: "Yes."

"Here?" He asked. "You want a re-match?" One long moan: "Yes."

"Let's go hide in the bushes," he said, smiling naughtily, "How about over there?"

He wheeled me over to where the paved trail got within 20 or 30 feet of the thicket. "Let me go look."

"Okay! Looks promising," he said. Turning me. He pushed me bumpily across the scruffy grass, around to the left of the stand of bushes, back a bit further and then turned me hard right. Lovely: coming into view, a hole leading deep into the patch of bushes. Off we went, into the heart of the thicket. There was a little trash back there, but it wasn't bad. I could hear kids playing in the far distance; nothing any closer.

"Do you want me to get you out of that chair?" he asked. Two hoots.

"So, you just want to do me." A statement. One long growly moan.

"Ho-kee," he grinned. I could see the line of his big beautiful dick, lengthening off to the right (Mine. His dick, his left, my right). He reached to untie his belt, popped his top button, labored to undo the others, his jeans opening, opening, each button a great stride toward the promised land.

"I'm gonna have to take these completely off," he said. "They're not easy, like the scrubs."

I was treated to him hopping around in circles, tugging at the leg of his pants. It would have been comedic -- truthfully it was, a little -- had I not been looking at the pouch his nuts made in his undies, had I not been watching the pouch stretch downward, each time he landed, each time his scrotum stretched under the weight of his beautiful balls, each time they distended the fuzzy white pouch, each time the briefs hefted them back, each time they bounced. A lovely, boyish display. My throat tickled in appreciation. Whatever my throat had to do with it, he was certainly a delight to watch. It was a delight to be queer, and to have him know, and for him to be so cute.

Eventually, the show was over. Well, at least that part. His big, ample dick stood jutting to the right. Mine, I tell you: mine! (his dick, that is). The head pressed out against the briefs, edges clearly revealed. My mouth watered. He walked toward me, his package waggling with each step.

"Do you want to try sucking?" I tried to make a sound, but it took my voice a second to catch. Then a dull moan, one dull moan of desire, from the core of me. The blood rushed, pounding, to my face.

"Sorry to ask this. Do you think you can do it without getting too excited and biting me?"

I giggled. Giggled again, trying to hoot "Yes." Finally got one out. One, giggling.

You know you're cute when you blush. You're cute anyway, but especially when you blush."

"Okay," he breathed, bringing himself close. He set the brakes on the chair, pulled off the briefs. I felt the warmth of him, radiating, as he sidled up to press himself to my cheek. So real. So solid. I was glad I had just cum with him, earlier. I was enjoying this arousal. It was wonderful now, not a threat. Fulfillment, not frustration, was at hand. The muscles behind my dick (Richard to you) pulsed achy, as he rubbed the soft hot hardness of himself across my cheek, across my lips. I could smell the musk of him, smell his penis, behind the head.

A deep calm fell across my heart. My thoughts came sweetly to a stop. Upon the frenzy of my mounting physical arousal lay a great stillness. Something cleared, in the center of my head. Something lightened up, a chronic headache-y something lifted. I heard a series of cracking noises in the center of my head, as the pressure dissipated, as his penis slid across my lips. His balls were on my chin, now, now cool against my lips. The softness, their lovely young man musk, light and clean and alluring. His hot cock rested against my face, alongside my nose, the hot underside of the head against my eye. I smelled him and I knew him. And it was good.

The balls withdrew, to be replaced by his moist pee-lips. His oozing penis dragged down my face, leaving a cool trail, coming to rest at the center of my lips, his penis tip, moist with his arousal, touching me gently. I could feel each pee lip, the space between, wet with his liquid. An itchy, magnetic need came upon me, to have him between my lips. I open my lips to be penetrated by him. To serve and adore him. I wait softly, open.

He stops, just within reach of my tongue. Hungrily, my tongue reaches out to him, to explore the head of his penis, its tender smoothness, the valley beneath and the nectar oozing from him. He knows to come gradually closer, to let me find him, at last, with my lips, to let me explore his texture, his shape. He knows to give me the whole head, back to the ridge of him, the shape of it completing me. My gay heart kneels before this thing of marvel. He pulls back, to let me follow its shape, as it tapers down, boyishly, toward the tip and the marvelous, gooey pee-lips of him.

He sidles a tiny bit closer, and begins feeding me his shaft. The drama of it is hypnotic. The big, tender maleness of him, sliding to take me, slowly withdrawing to give me the precious head to suck, then back to feel the hard girth of him, the hot young bigness tenderly parting my willing lips, as the precious tip tickles its silken way back to the portal of my throat. He pauses to let me croon around the big male thing that is holding my lips apart. Its weight, its heat, the hot, heavy tenderness of him, resting cherished in my adoring mouth.

The musk of his penis, from behind the head, is in my mouth, up in my nose, is coating me, marking me with the raw maleness of him. I tremble with the joy of my queerness. The hardness of him, the hugeness of him, holding my thoughts frozen.

As hard, as ruthless, as inescapable, as ever my sadness, my envy, my despair, have been for me: that is how real, how exultantly real, how blazingly solid the joy of sucking him is. Like something pressed against the heart of me, firm and unyieldingly joyful. My mouth surrounds the hardness of him, exulting; the connection runs straight to my cock, making strong, electric, healing joy there.

He slides, a little at first, then faster and longer, his ooze flowing into my mouth, into my throat. I swallow dreamily, the creamy texture of his clear stuff soothing my throat, caressing my soul, as I give myself to my glorious queerness, my cock sucking joy. A privilege I could hardly have imagined a week ago. He speeds up, my lips exulting in every stroke, in the heat building in his glorious meat, in the voluptuous ballooning of his satiny head.

He begins to make little moans. I realize I've been making bigger ones, louder ones, from the glory of sucking him. From the glory of feeling his end approach. He stops for a brief instant, skewered, hissing, on his climax. Time frozen, his tender cock cradled deep inside me. I wait, a bride at the altar, wait as he clenches and moans and slides, jerky, fighting to feed me his dick one more time. Stopping, he whimpers, body rigid, as his load erupts, hot, in my mouth, erupts, hitting the roof and the sides, his penis throbbing, throbbing in my mouth, his load gushing huge, filling the portal of my throat, shooting again, big and meaty, across my tongue. The time between his ejaculations is longer. In the stillness between pulses, I swallow his cream, my soul a-tremble. His precious cream, sliding savory smooth down my throat, to anoint my soul in queer joy.

The reality, the huge solid fact of Derrin's load filling my mouth, of eating it, of sitting there, with his big male thing still pulsing hot in my mouth, carries me to the finish line: inevitability swoops down upon me, the claws of joy claiming me cruelly. My own cream rises, shrill, sharp, electric, sex-joy tearing up from within, my tiny self dragged quailing in its wake, to blast into my diaper, over and over, making me warm and slimy, wet with heavenly release.

He tenderly removes himself, turns to find his briefs, his rigid tool wagging adorably from side to side. He pulls them on, his dick still stiff, pointing up. Pulls them up, to cup and cradle his big lovely nuts, source of the confection he has just served me.

"Allrightythen," he says. "Congratulations: Ta-Daa! No teeth. That was fucking righteous."

I giggle, the memory of his cum, still warm in the back of my mouth, my throat. Still warm in the heart of me.

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