Date: Tue, 18 May 2021 02:54:02 +0200 (CEST)
From: oddnova@tutanota.com
Subject: Davion (gay/adult-youth; gay/incest)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.



As the beat-up Toyota turned left onto Ringwuld Street, Davion felt
transported in time as the local corner store bobbed into view.
Perpetually derelict, shabby off-white cement walls held up windows
opaque with advertisements. The building looked as though someone had
dropped it in the center of an upturned parking lot where errant roots
burst through pavement in great mounds.

Davion smiled thinking of many of the milestones the store had witnessed.
He had gotten high for the first time just behind the store one afternoon
with an older cousin. He had fucked his first pussy in the backseat of a
car in the only shady spot of the parking lot. An older woman had easily
seduced his preteen self then with nothing more than a too-tight halter
top and an ice cold soda on a hot day.

If he thought about it enough, that moment had probably shaped how he
forever viewed sex.

His childhood self learned that sex was a game of power and whoever could
get the upper hand would win. In high school it had taken the form of
girls trying to get pregnant by him as a way to tame him. To them, they
imagined that knowing a part of his generic code was wound up inside
their belly would keep him faithful. They were wrong, of course, but
Davion had already learned about manipulation and how to avoid it. He
also knew instinctively at an early age that he had no interest in having
kids.

Now twenty-nine, Davion still had no doubt that fatherhood was not for
him.

But sometimes things don't go as planned.

Davion stopped the car outside the sickly yellow one-story house and
killed the engine. In the predominantly African American small town of
Hamstead plunked unassumingly near the southern edge of Virginia, a
secret had been brewing for nine years. Just a twenty minute walk from
the old Grandview High School, where lessons learned in the halls came
more easily than in the classroom, stood an unassuming yellow house. It
had a roof in desperate need of repair and a yard that was more dirt than
greenery. Just past the house's flimsy metal screen door that stood as
more of a visual illusion than deterrent for bug, his son would wait.

He caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. Tight fade, pecan-color
skin and eyes like freshly brewed coffee. He never had trouble attracting
the girls, that was for sure. If he had been an avid athlete he could
have credited his toned physique to a rigorous sports routine but truth
was he didn't have to do much to stay in good shape. Good genes as it
were.

Those handsome features had allowed him his pick of females, though he
never stayed with any one in particular for any length of time. The one
that had drawn him back to Hamstead was a girl named Alaia Howard. Davion
had met her when he was twenty-one through mutual friends. She had been
short and wide-hipped with a radiance that seemed to pour of our her in
waves. She had kept her hair in cornrows back then, every bit the
dark-skinned African beauty.

They were inseparable the moment they met and their relationship, though
brief as it were, held an intensity that had never since been duplicated.
Yet, when an opportunity arose that allowed Davion an escape from his
hometown, he had eagerly jumped at the chance. He didn't remember their
breakup being particularly tumultuous, though. In fact he'd truthfully
never thought of her in the last nine years until she had phoned him one
day out of the blue to tell him he was a father.

Davion exited the car, the afternoon heat already beading perspiration on
his forehead, and made his way to the house's front door. A few moments
after the echos of his knocks came a rustling of activity within the
house. It was a small boy that approached the door first. Davion searched
the face for something familiar that would answer the question he was
silently asking. The kid just looked like a kid to him.

"Alaia here?" he asked.

The boy's big eyes were unreadable and the ease at which the boy took in
his presence gave Davion the distinct impression that the kid was not
unaccustomed to strange men on the doorstep asking for his mom.

The boy continued to look at him with cool indifference even as movement
behind him signaled an end to the stalemate. Davion recognized the woman
who stood next to the child, her hand instinctively touching the kid's
back as she took a moment to quickly scan Davion up and down. She was
much as he remembered except now her hair was buzzed and the glow that he
remembered from her had dulled to a fraction of its former glory.

"Hey," she said softly, a shy smile betraying her face. She had been
stern on the phone, almost demanding, but clearly it had been a
production.

"This him?" Davion asked. Part of him wondered if the sight of his son
would somehow unlock a paternal instinct in him but he felt nothing
still.

She moved closer, squeezing the boy into her hip so that his spine
curved. "Davion, this is my son Jaron."

The boy's face was blank as if waiting for a signal from Davion for how
to continue.

"Sup, little man."

Jaron's eyes strayed down to his shifting feet. "Hey," he said with a
voice more innocent than Davion imagined his own had sounded at that age.

"Don't be shy," Alaia tsked with a fake chuckle but Davion could tell
shyness was the boy's default mode. "Come on inside," she continued when
it was clear neither adult nor offspring were going to break their
silence.

They took seats on a shabby orange couch that thankful was in line with a
small metal oscillating fan that throw a lukewarm breeze at them every
few seconds. The boy curled his hands into his laps as though afraid
someone would grab his fingers and eat them. His little sneakers kicked
back and forth over the edge of the couch from a release of nervous
energy. Alaia interpreted the whole scene in an altogether different way
than Davion did. She had an arm bent back behind her head as if to give
the impression of casualness but it was unconvincing. Her eyelids
fluttered when she talked, either in an attempt at flirtation or to avoid
direct eye contact.

"He looks just like you, doesn't he?" she said with pride, one hand
rubbing her bare leg to give it something to do.

Davion ignored the question, partly because he thought the answer was no
and partly because the strain of the conversion was making his molars
hurt.

"Why are you just now telling me I got a kid?"

Her eyes increased their flutter and she almost put her hand on her chest
in that Southern "Oh my Heavens" cliche. "I thought it was time you knew.
A boy needs to be around his father at a certain age."

That was bullshit, of course. Davion could count on his fingers how many
of the houses on his block had fathers present when he was growing up.
Some had left to find better jobs. Some had lost their lives either
through their own doomed hustle or by someone putting a foot on their
neck.

"Besides," she continued, "it wasn't like I knew how to get in touch with
you. Your family doesn't like me and you never told me where you were
going."

"All right."

She straightened out wrinkles that weren't there in the couch's
threadbare fabric. "I'm starting up my own business. I've going to do
hair and sell some natural products that I make. I can't drag Jaron with
me all the time."

She met his eyes, smiled, and patted her knee. "You two can spend some
time together until I get things set up. To get to know each other."

Davion eyed the boy again, watching him fidget with a blank stare. He
wondered for the first time if the boy had a mental problem. The more the
thought took form the more irritated he became. He didn't know how to
relate to a kid and he sure as shit didn't know how to relate to one
that was retarded.

"You expecting me to move back?" he asked calmly.

Alaia sighed with a single deflated huff. "Dee, just give it a chance.
I'm not asking for money. Just spend some time with him. Maybe he can
stay with you a little or he can visit you in DC."

Fuck, he thought. It would be easier if she was unreasonable but she
really wasn't putting the squeeze on him like she could. If she really
just wanted him to spend time with the boy, how much could he protest at
this point?

He looked back to the boy who was still staring into space, head lowered.

Fuck.

By the late afternoon Davion had taken the boy to the local park and
bought him an ice cream sandwich from the guy who pushed the refrigerated
cart. Jaron had simply shrugged his shoulders when asked if he wanted
one. It was one of those great big exaggerated shrugs that made his whole
body bounce. It did nothing to alleviate Davion's growing dread that
there was something mentally wrong with the kid.

Times were different now, he supposed. Had he acted like Jaron at that
age he would have been the target of every neighborhood bully. Weakness
was a trait that got beaten out of you quickly.

It was too hot to stay in the park for long, so Davion took the boy back
to his motel room where he gave him a towel to clean up the melted mess
of the ice cream.

He watched the boy quietly wipe his fingers with continued fascination.
He was sure that only a handful of words had passed between them during
their outing and the boy's demeanor remained somewhere stuck between
tentative and high alert. Just being around the kid made his own anxiety
spike.

He wasn't a bad looking kid but he clearly took after his darker-skinned
mother. He was on the bony side and seemed to be more teeth and gums than
anything. Davion thought he was in serious need of a good trim, too. To
be an aspiring hairdresser, the boy's mother had clearly let the boys
grooming lapse.

A fast rapping of knuckles sounded on the motel door as if someone
prepared to perform shave-and-a-haircut but got lost in their own
self-importance. Davion felt himself sigh as he turned away from the
critique of his son to open the door.

"Nigga!" came the gruff greeting.

Davion chuckled and accepted the offered bear hug from his visitor.

"Sup, Slide," Davion greeted, getting a strong aroma of weed smoke as
his childhood friend leaned in.

They slapped hands in greeting and Slide made his way inside.

Slide had been his best friend and partner in crime for his entire
childhood. He couldn't remember under what circumstances they had met or
joined forces, but they had been unwavering allies for as long as he
could remember. It had been an alliance that had weathered all storms, be
it troubled home lives, crazy girlfriends, or even run-ins with the
police.

"You a sight for sore eyes, nigga," Slide joked, slapping his friend on
the back. He seemed to notice the boy for the first time, "This little
man?"

"Yeah," Davion sighed. "Jaron."

Slide bent down and pretended to give the boy a series of rapid gut
punches, "Yo, J-Dog! I guess that makes me like your big uncle Slide,
nigga."

The boy winced but tried hard to remain immobile. "Hey," he said in the
barest of whispers.

Slide returned upright with disapproval. He lowered his voice, seemingly
because he didn't think it possible the boy could hear him whisper from
a foot away. "Yo, D. What's up with your boy? He slow or something?"

Davion just shook his head, relieved somewhat that his own assessment was
shared. At least it wasn't just because he was in unfamiliar territory.

Slide gave an overly exaggerated nod as if to signify he understood the
deeper implications, and mouthed an "ah" to crystalize the message.

He regarded the boy like a lab experiment now. "What did you do, throw
chocolate at his face?"

Davion laughed and realized it was the first time since being back in his
hometown that his chest felt lighter. "Nah, I took him to get ice cream
at the park. He ended up wearing most of it."

"Shit, not from that crackhead," Slide warned. "That nigga is a
pedophile or some shit. Plus he got yellow teeth. Nigga been sucking on
ass or something."

Davion chuckled. Everyone was a nigga to Slide. "A pedophile? Man, you
just talking shit."

"For real," Slide said convincingly. "Well, probably. Why else would a
grown nigga want to sell ice cream to a bunch of fucking kids."

"Shit if I know," Davion sighed, drawing the "shit" out so that it
sounded like "sssshhhiiiit."

Slide spent the next few hours telling Davion everything that had
happened in their neighborhood for the past nine years over cheap vodka
and the worst smelling weed Davion had ever witnessed. As badly as it
reeked, it dulled his mind to a soothing hum and made even Slide's lame
jokes funny.

Jaron sat on the floor watching cartoons from the cracked television set
while the men reminisced.  Slide was of the opinion that Davion should
have just denied the kid and stayed where he was.

"Fuck if a bitch try to pin me down," Slide breathed through lungfuls
of marijuana. He glanced at Jaron and made a show of offering the blunt.
"You want a hit of this, little nigga?"

Jaron silently shook his head.

"You a mute, nigga?" He joked, lunging over and swatting the boy
playful on the head.

Jaron recoiled and whined at the interruption which only made Slide want
to escalate. He cupped the boy's head in his palm and pulled him under
his arm, grinding Jaron's face into his left armpit. "Smell those pits,
youngblood."

Jaron held his breath and flailed like a drowning swimmer but Slide's
grip on his neck made him little more than a puppet. He sucked in air
when his lungs burned and took in the smell of cheap deodorant and sweat.
His muffled protests only egged Slide who looked in his direction
laughing to his friend.

Davion covered his mouth with his fist as he laughed at the sight. He was
pretty sure Slide had gotten him in a few headlocks in his own time and
there was satisfaction in finally seeing it inflicted on someone else.

"Drink that shit in, youngblood. That's real man scent there."
Slide's voice sounded almost buoyant which was likely due to the
combination of alcohol, weed, and testosterone. There were few moments in
life where one could see their own life through a prism that bent the
past and present so starkly side-by-side. Davion didn't have much reason
to think back to his childhood but this scene sparked a nostalgia in him
that was palpable. Roughhousing with his best friend, subjugating someone
with some emasculating ritual--it was all out of a page from his
childhood. One that the benefit of time had softened.

To Davion, it was a moment when he felt transported back to better days.
When, as strange as it seemed, his life was more in his control. His
concerns seemed far fewer back then and there certainly wasn't someone
in his life who filled the space that Slide had occupied in his youth.

Slide jerked the boy's head down into his lap when the armpit gag
started getting old. He yelled, "Smell them balls."

Davion bent over laughing, feeling his lightheadedness double as he did
so. "Oh shit," he sighed as he relished in the buzz.

Jaron's arms were windmills trying to make contact with any weakness.
When one fist finally made contact, it collided with Slide's nose hard
enough to cause him to lose his grip on the boy. It was hard to gauge who
was more surprised by the move. Jaron simply sat where he was in a
terrified silence as if sensing his situation had taken a darker turn.

Davion watched the transformation of Slide's face in slow motion. His
friends eyes had welled up in tears then quickly flared with a kind of
rage that he had never seen in the otherwise carefree face. Jaron felt
the wave of retaliation building before him and instinctively started
backpedaling like a cartoon character who couldn't find traction under
his feet. He had barely managed to half roll his way off the bed when
Slide swooped forward in a snarl, grabbed the boy by a twist of his
t-shirt, and slung him back on the bed like a weightless sack of laundry.

The boy bounced once then Slide was on top of him, straddling him at the
chest.

"You think you're a fucking man now," Slide snapped, pinning both of
the boy's small hands above his hand with only one of his own.

Davion's thoughts still felt leadened. He watched with a kind of
chemical detachment as Slide fumbled with something at his waist with his
free hand. He thought it was such a strange sight to see the grown man
sitting on top of the child. The kid's legs kicked uselessly back and
forth like a fish out of water. Maybe influenced by his own childhood,
his next thought was that Slide was fumbling for a belt that he was going
to beat the boy with.

He heard metal snaps and a zipper.

Davion willed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the bed. This had
gone on for long enough. "All right, nigga. He gets it. Let the kid
up."

Slide ignored him and instead dug his hand into his jeans. The boy's
eyes were wild with fright as Slide's hand emerged with his flaccid dick
that he dangled into the boy's face.

"You think you a man now, nigga," he continued. "Open up then nigga."

"Damn, what you gonna do, piss on him?" Davion asked pulling back on
Slide's shoulder.

Slide easily shrugged off the gesture and moved his pelvis closer to the
boy's face so that his dick slid across Javion's writhing face.

"I said open your mouth," he snarled and released his dick long enough
to slap the boy hard across the cheek with his open palm.

The boy let out a squeal, probably more from the shock of things than
from any serious pain. It was a hearty slap, no doubt, but obviously
tempered.

"Nigga," Davion pleaded without real conviction. It was hard for him to
reconcile in his mind what his eyes were seeing.

"Open," Slide commanded.

The boy opened and Slide shoved his limp dick into the boy's mouth,
looking back at Davion afterward with a triumphant smile. "Fucking
cocksucker thinks he can hit me."

Davion felt his weight settle in his heels as he watched his son's head
bob on Slide's dark dick. Slobber and snot came in endless supply from
the boy's face as he blubbered and coughed in his humiliation.

"Watch those teeth, nigga" Slide said, the anger seemingly now drained
instantly from his voice.

The boy's kicking stopped and he no longer seemed to be struggling. The
fight had clearly been taken out of him. Davion watched in awe as the
kid's lips stroked the growing dick with increasing competence.

Slide turned back and laughed, "The kid's a natural."

Davion moved closer, mesmerized.

"Come on and get you some," Slide said to him.

"Nah man, nah," he said, still watching in a sick fascination.

"Come on, he loves this shit."

To prove his point, Slide slid back and yanked the boys pants down with a
single hard tug, taking both pants and underwear with it. Davion had
never seen a kid's dick before. He didn't remember what his own had
looked like at that age, but there was no question that Jaron's little
dick was stiff. His own stomach flipped. He knew it was wrong but seeing
his son's hard tiny dick made him feel powerful. He had always been
somewhat self-conscious about his own dick size but seeing such a baby
dick made him feel superior.

Somewhat in horror, he felt his own dick harden with a steel he had not
known for a long time.

Slide must have seen it in his face because he now knew the pressure
points to push. He flipped the boy over onto his stomach and swatted the
boy's bare ass. "Get over here and teach your son how to be a man,
goddamit."

Slide backed off the bed, his hard dick bouncing as he shimmied onto his
feet. Davion stood behind his son and just stared at the boy's smooth
ass. Slide chuckled, "He got a fat ass for a kid."

Slide leaned in and used two fingers to spread the boy's cheeks apart.
The tiny hole winked.

"Yo nigga, get some of that pussy. You know you're not going to find
pussy tighter than that."

Lust pounded in his ears. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to
expose his throbbing dick.

"Damn nigga, you got a little tick too. Like father like son," Slide
laughed.

For the first time, his dick didn't cause him embarrassment. Next to
Jaron's ass his own dick looked huge. The wrongness of the scene was all
around him. He had never looked at a kid like this before but there was
no denying that his dick was aching.

Slide spit into his hand and grabbed Davion's hard dick, smearing it
with his saliva. "Hurry up, nigga" he whispered.

The warm hand on his dick was the last straw to his reservations. He was
overcome with a hunger that drowned out all reason. He kicked his pants
off and straddled his son. He took the boys cheeks in his hands and
rubbed them, amazed at how tight and smooth they were. Precum was
dripping onto the hotel bedspread like he had sprung a leak. Truth was,
he probably wouldn't have even needed Slide's spit.

Davion looked at the boy who was breathing normally now. Jaron's head
was turned to the side and his eyes were closed. He watched the small
nostrils flaring in and out and felt lulled.

He aimed his wet dick at the boy's sphincter, it's heat radiating even
before his tip touched it. His dick looked so big compared to the boy's
hole. He was again filled with a sense of pride and power.

He pushed and watched the boy grimace.

"Fuck that faggot. He loves it," Slide whispered from behind him.
Davion sensed Side was stroking his own dick even though he couldn't see
it.
He pushed further.

God it was so tight and hot. Javion's ass jiggled from the tension which
only helped to ease the dick into its target. He knew he should go slow
but the drumbeat in his ears now had silenced everything but his own raw
need.

He leaned in fully and felt the boy's ass take all of his dick. He
sighed as he stretched the virgin hole. The boy moaned and clenched two
handfuls of the bedspread.

"Holy fuck, you bottomed out in that nigga," Slide said, picking up the
pace until his masturbation was a furious slapping.

Davion felt as though he could have cum instantly with just one pump but
he squeezed the boy's tight cheeks to try to delay the inevitable. He
separated his hands and watched the tiny hole swallow his dick.

Slowly he withdrew and pushed his weight back onto the boy until he lay
on top of him. Javon's butt fit perfectly against his abdomen and the
full body contact felt like electricity.

He pounded now, mercilessly. Every downward stroke met with the same
rhythm of cheap bedspring squeal and exhale from his son beneath him. His
dick now slid easily in and out of the gripping chute, his increasing
pace matching the furious strokes of Slide spectating somewhere to his
side.

Jaron "umphed" each time his small body was pressed into the bed as his
father drilled his raw dick into him.

WhatthefuckamIdoing. His thoughts raced and repeated. Stopitstopit.

But he did't. He kept fucking his son, feeling the tightness drag
against his shaft. He wrapped his arms underneath Jaron and pulled him
into each stroke. The soft whimpers fueled his craze.

"Oh fuck," Davion cursed as the swelling in his balls took on a
sensation that reminded him of the first time he had ever busted a nut.

"Yeah cum in his ass," Slide encouraged, his own dick slick from
excitement.

It was like permission to his ears because Davion instantly started
unloading in the boy's hole. He grunted and felt the spasms filling up
his son's hungry ass.

"Fuck I'm cuming," Slide grunted, moving closer and aiming his dick at
the boy's ass. Thick ropes of cum twitched from Slide's dick and coated
the boy's ass as well as Davion's own dick.

Davion pulled back slightly and pushed Slide's hot cum into the boy.
Globs oozed out from the overfilled hole. Slide exhaled and tapped his
dick hard to flick the residual semen onto the bed. "Fuck that was a
good nut."

Davion eased his dick out of the boy's hole and watched the cum dribble
down onto the covers stunned.

Slide pulled on his pants as if nothing had happened. "Aiight nigga
I'll hit you up later."

Davion nodded as he struggled to reconcile the events of the evening. As
Slide slipped through the door, a stillness settled over the motel room.
Davion picked his clothes off of the floor and turned on the bathroom
sink. As he waited for the water to warm, he saw Jaron slip his pants
back on and sit quietly on the edge of the bed.

He ran a hand under the lukewarm stream and used it to wash his dick.

"You like burgers," he called back over the sound of the faucet.

The boy shrugged.

"All right, we'll get burgers then."

He checked his face in the mirror. He'd stay in Hamstead for a few days
then offer to let the kid stay with him during the summer in DC. A trial
basis. If the kid caused problems he'd just send him home on a bus.

Davion smoothed out his eyebrows and shut off the faucet. Homecomings
always left him hungry.