Here's part 12 of the story. As always, this is purely fictional. No real boys were hurt while writing this, please do not hurt any while reading or afterwards. Thanks!
It shouldn’t really surprise you, if you’ve been reading through all of the previous parts of ‘The weeping boy’, but English is only my second language. I hope you will forgive me for any linguistic errors I might have made.
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- or how I became what I am today.
To say that Michelle’s decision to abandon Andy caught me by surprise is an understatement. I had never in my wildest dreams imagined her doing something like that. That she did abandon him gave me less time to fume over the fact that she had originally planned to take him away from me. I had to work hard to keep the anger at bay, there were so many things to deal with; all of them seemed to happen all at once.
I had called the leader of the course I had been teaching at and told him I couldn’t return, at least not until the weekend. He had already arranged for someone to cover for me, so I didn’t have to worry about that. The income I had expected from teaching that week was now something I had to get by without. This was bad, as I had already included the money in my budget. It was a fair sum of $600 that slipped from my fingers like a fart in the wind.
I also had to buy more food, which was my first priority. I hadn’t expected to be home for another four days and it wasn’t just me either. Andy was there too. I could have survived by drinking tap water and eating plain pasta or rice, but I couldn’t serve that to Andy. Andy, who by the way, still didn’t know that his mom was busy cutting all ties to him. I had made it very clear to Michelle that she was going to be the one who explained it to him. Why she would leave him.
That day, when Andy had been in the fight, I went shopping and brought him. He had finally stopped crying but walked in a zombie-like state, oblivious to everything that went on around him. More than once, I had to double back and find him. Finally I made him hold onto the cart as I wheeled it around the supermarket. I had chosen to shop for groceries in a supermarket several miles away from our small city. To minimize the risk of running into someone who had heard the rumor of what happened at his school.
Andy’s unwillingness to do anything other than breathe continued when we had arrived back at home. I had him sit at the dining table, where I could monitor him while I cooked dinner. He didn’t eat the food on the plate sitting in front of him, just used his fork to push a potato around.
“Andy, you need to stop playing with your food and eat it.”
He didn’t respond to my gentle request. Instead of yelling at him, I decided to feed him. He opened his mouth at the right times, chewed what went in it and swallowed. Seemingly without tasting what it was. He even ate the vegetables without the encouragement usually required.
When I was about to give him his bath, he pushed me out of the bathroom. He locked the door and all I could do was stand there, listening to the sounds of a boy washing himself. As he reopened the door, some fifteen minutes later, he appeared dressed in his pajamas. His hair still damp, but he had used the blow drier.
“Andy, you’re missing something,” I told him.
“No, I’m not!”
He hadn’t diapered himself. I could clearly see his pajama bottoms hugging his buttocks, I had secretly longed for the day, where he could dress like that. When he no longer needed his nighttime diaper. However, I just knew he wasn’t ready for it and I tried to prevent my son from experiencing yet another blow to his self-esteem.
“Dad, I’m not a baby anymore,” he told me.
“I’m not saying you are a baby, but you do wet your bed and I really think you should put on a diaper.”
“I’m not going to pee in my bed and I’ll never wear a diaper again.”
He walked around me, got into bed and demonstratively started reading a Donald Duck comic book. I got the picture, he was now not only not a baby, but also too old for bedtime stories. I told him goodnight from where I stood in the doorway, closed his door increasingly slower the closer it got to finally shutting. Desperately hoping for my son to change his mind. He was just too stubborn. I sighed heavily as I stood there, resting my forehead on the door.
After a cigarette had mostly burned up on its own, I went to sit in front of the computer. I had to find a new school for Andy. Even with the police investigation and probably the school investigating the matter too, I just couldn’t imagine my son going back to that school. I didn’t want him to face the kids who had either seen or heard of the movie clip of him sucking off John.
Locating another school proved to be hard however. Society had changed a lot since I went to school myself. In order to save money, the government had closed the smaller schools and amassed the pupils in bigger centralized schools. As it turned out, the school Andy went to, was the only public school in the city we lived in. It meant I would have to enroll him in a school about 15 miles away. I’d have to drive him there myself or have him use public transportation.
My job schedule prevented me from being able to drive him to and from school. I could possibly work it out so I’d be able to get him there on time or to pick him up, but not both.
‘Even if he isn’t a baby, he’s just not old enough to travel so far on his own,’ I thought and dismissed the idea of enrolling him in that school.
I turned my attention to private schools. There were a couple of those within reasonable distance. One was a religious orientated school and while reading their mission statement and ideals, I quickly navigated away from their web site. Then happened to enter the site of a rather small independent school. The web site didn’t look very impressing, rather it looked like it had been designed by someone who only knew very basic html coding.
I looked beyond that and found a link that led to a gallery. As I browsed through the pictures I noticed the looks of happiness on the faces of kids and adults. Most of the pictures were ‘action’ shots with genuine expressions, not the faked smiles seen in portraits. Sure, the furniture in the classrooms and the buildings themselves looked worn, but not worryingly so. I bookmarked the site and turned off the computer. I’d call the school the following morning.
Before going to bed, I checked in on my little guy. He had fallen asleep, forgetting to turn off his lamp. I debated with myself whether or not to get him diapered up then, but chose not to. Maybe a miracle would happen. It would be a miracle if Andy woke up in a dry bed. And if he woke up wet, it would be a miracle if he finally realized his old man did know a thing or two. That sometimes it’s just better to listen to advice.
Of course, none of the two miracles took place, Andy woke up wet and miserable.
“Daddy, I thought if I just wanted it bad enough it would happen.”
At least it had made him start talking again, even if it was in a whiny voice. He sat in the tub while I was feeding the washing machine with the wet linen from his bed and his pajamas. After breakfast I sent him into the backyard to entertain himself while I made the call to the school I had found the previous night. I arranged a meeting with them, the same day. I had just enough time for my parents to arrive, before I had to leave for the meeting.
I had called them just after I had talked to the school. Fortunately they didn’t have any plans, well, none that couldn’t be postponed, and they had agreed to watch Andy while I went and talked to the principal of his new school. I didn’t bring Andy for that meeting, this was one of those times where he’d simply have to accept I made decisions on his behalf.
At the meeting I told the principal and the teacher for the preschool class why I was looking for a new school for Andy. I didn’t go into specifics about the movie clip, just said that he had filmed himself and a friend in a very private moment. They weren’t really interested about that either. However, they asked me why I came alone, they had expected both parents to come see the place and talk to them. I told them I hadn’t really had time to speak to Michelle about all of this yet, but would do so later in the day.
I had talked to her of course. It was really her week with Andy after all. We hadn’t talked much however, certainly not about relocating him to another school. That was a conversation waiting to be had, much like a volcano waiting to erupt. Not so much Andy going to a new school, but the exact reason for it. All she really knew at that time was he had been in a fight over his cellphone. The rest, well, that was waiting to blow up.
The teacher brought me to her classroom and let me stay for period so I could experience how they did things there. I liked what I saw, there were only fifteen pupils in the class and they settled right down when told to. Of course, I was studied by some of the kids, as I sat there in the back of their classroom. As the teacher started doing her job, all of them turned their attention to her. All, but one little girl who kept glancing at me.
I concluded my visit by talking to the principal again. He gave me some papers I had to sign and return the following Monday, if Michelle agreed to Andy’s transfer, that is.
When I returned home, I had a talk with my mom while my dad played with Andy in his room.
“Mom, I need you to watch Andy for a few hours this afternoon, I really have to talk to Michelle,” I told her.
She told me not to worry, they’d take him to a museum, then treat him dinner before returning him for the night. With that settled, I sent Michelle a text, asking if she had time to talk for a while after work.
“If it can’t be any different,” came the reply. It ticked me off, that she took it so lightly. I had to remind myself that she didn’t know all of it.
My parents left with Andy about half an hour prior to my sit down with Michelle. I tried to come up with an agenda, it seemed easier to just being able to follow a script rather than having to make it up as we talked. When Michelle arrived to my house, I knew what I wanted to say and in what order it had be done. As per usual, things didn’t really work out as planned. She refused to believe me when I told her what had been on the phone.
“And who the hell would Andy be sucking?” she demanded to know as I finally had made it clear that I wasn’t lying.
“That really shouldn’t be too hard to guess,” I told her.
“I’m not entirely sure, but it was a circumcised dick he was sucking on.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’d be the one to know,” she looked disgusted at me.
“Right, like they haven’t ever been playing naked over at your house as well,” I shot back.
“I didn’t let them have sex with each other in my house!”
“It isn’t as if they fucking asked for permission from me to play like that.”
They hadn’t. They’d only asked why certain things felt nice and if I could teach them more. Well, John had in fact once asked me if it was okay to do stuff. But, that wasn’t really important now.
“You never knew, even suspected they might be doing something like that?” Michelle prodded me.
“They’re boys, Michelle, every boy on the planet has probably done something like that. If you remember, Andy did it with that, what’s his name, kid he met on the playground.”
“Yeah, Michael. The only difference is he didn’t own a fucking cellphone with a bloody camera in it back then!”
“So, now it’s my father’s fault! That’s so fucking typical of you, Teddy! Always blaming everyone but yourself.”
“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m only trying to come up with a solution now.”
We carried on for a while like that, but eventually she signed the papers that effectively moved Andy from the public school system to the private system.
“The added costs come out of your pocket, Teddy!”
Right, like I had a tree in the backyard I could just go pick money from when I needed it. My job did pay fairly well, but I had worked up some debt in my younger years. It had been easy back then, the bank literally threw money at me, gave me a credit card with a limit of $1500. That had only been the beginning, as I got close to the limit it was raised. And then raised again and again. Until it reached $12000 and the onset of the global financial depression.
Then my bank suddenly didn’t want to lend me more money, but kept requesting me to pay back what I owed them. Raising money for the down-payment on the house hadn’t been easy. I finally managed to get them, but now had two different loans plus the rest of the mortgage on the house to pay off. I figured I’d find a way to cover the added expense. I had always managed to keep my head above water.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
I spent the weekend gently preparing Andy for going back to school.
“Daddy, I don’t want to go school again,” he told me.
“Tiger, every child in this country has to go to school for at least nine years.”
“But I’m not going to. You can’t make me.”
“Andy, you’re going back to school and that’s final. I even found another school for you. One with very nice teachers and really friendly kids.”
“They were only friendly ‘cuz you’re a grownup!”
“I don’t think so. You’ll see for yourself on Monday.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Andy! I know what happened to you at the other school. It won’t happen again. None of the kids at the new school know you or what happened.”
“They’ll know. Or find out.”
That was about as far as we got that Friday evening. Again, he went by the evening rituals on his own, yet again leaving the diaper I had put on the counter for him untouched. The next morning he found himself just as wet as the previous one. Andy was by far more miserable. He woke me early, crying. As I sorted out his bedding overlooked by him, he started talking.
“Daddy, I don’t want to be a baby. Only babies pee their bed. Daddy, please make me stop peeing my bed.”
I sent him to the bathroom to wash himself, he had been standing there watching me, naked, shivering slightly. I joined him while he was wiping himself off with a towel.
“Tiger, it isn’t just babies who have accidents. A lot of kids have accidents like you. Most stop when they get a little older.”
I don’t know if my words had the effect on him that I was hoping for. I wanted him to be at ease, to just accept the fact that he couldn’t sleep through the night without peeing. But he didn’t want to accept it. He kept asking me to help him. So, I sat in front of the computer, with him on my lap, looking at sites claiming to know what to do to stop someone from wetting their bed. All of them stated that bedwetting isn’t really an unusual problem.
Andy struggled to read the words on the screen. He knew the letters of course, could read simple sentences, like “my cat is sweet”. I helped him with the harder words, slowly working our way through the wealth of information. I think he was relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one wetting his bed. But he still wanted to stop doing it.
We read about fluid restrictions, how to let him drink what he wanted until 6PM and from then until the next morning nothing at all. He complained about being thirsty at 8PM and I had to remind him he couldn’t have anything to drink according to the plan. It didn’t work, Sunday he woke up wet again. Not nearly as wet as the other days, but still wet.
Sunday evening he didn’t want to go to bed at the time I wanted him to. He still didn’t want to go to school and tried to avoid having to by staying up late. I did what I could to convince him going to bed.
I tried reasoning with him at first, then ordered him to bed. He did go to his room, but when I checked up on him ten minutes later, he was playing with his cars on the floor. I pulled out a bigger weapon, threatening to spank him if he didn’t go to bed right at that moment. He still refused. Nothing is worse than a threat that isn’t followed up on. I gave him to the count of three, but when he was still stoically ignoring me, making increasingly louder noises of engine sounds and wheels screeching, I picked him up.
Now the screeching coming from him were from panic and objection to what was about to take place. I managed to ignore him, like he had ignored me. I put him over one of my knees, used my other leg to control his legs, forced his arms around his back and held him tight. I yanked his pajama bottoms down, baring his buttocks. He tensed them as he tried to kick at me, to free himself from my grip. He was no match to my adult strength. He was, after all, only seven years old.
I landed five hard smacks on his upturned buttocks, keeping myself under control. I wanted him to understand that I was really fed up with his behavior, but I didn’t want to beat him senseless while doing so. Still, the smacks landed with enough force to both redden his buttocks and hurt him. I had him stand between my knees, and even if he tried to avoid it I hugged him. He cried and I really was sad it had to end that way. He blubbered that he was sorry.
“Andy, I know you don’t like the fact that you have to go to school tomorrow. I know you’re afraid of what might happen. But, I promise you, I’ll always be here to help you.” I explained, heard what he said, then continued, “Yes, your bum hurts now, I know that too, it wouldn’t be hurting if you had just gone to bed as I told you to.”
He still cried but less by the time I had finished telling him that.
“Now, I want you to get into your bed and try to get some sleep. Don’t worry so much about what will happen tomorrow or in the future. We can get by anything, you and me, together.”
I gave him a kiss goodnight after tucking him in. I don’t think the spanking was what helped him fall asleep, but I’m sure it did give him something else to think about rather than worry about school and the new kids he was going to meet.
I woke him later that night, had him pee in the toilet, although I think he was pretty much sleeping through it all. I woke him the next morning, hoping to find him completely dry, but no. He had wet, yet again. I really had wanted him to experience a dry morning, especially that morning when he was officially transferred to the new school. He was, to put it very mildly, grumpy that morning. He was half asleep trying to eat his cereal and didn’t offer any assistance while I brushed his teeth for him and combed his hair.
It was only when we got into the car that he finally started waking up. He looked out the side window deep in thought, then turned his head and caught my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“What do I say if they ask me why I changed schools?”
“If I was you, I’d say that I was bullied and hope to get a lot of good friends.”
“You think they’ll want to be friends with me?”
“If they don’t, they will be the ones missing out. You’re a good person, Andy. Just be the friendly and helpful little guy I know you are. Then everybody will want to be your friend.”
We arrived at the school half an hour later than everyone else. It was what I had been told to do. I led him to his class, knocked on the door and opened it when the teacher told me to enter.
“Good morning Andy. Welcome to our class,” all fifteen kids chorused. I ushered my boy in through the door after telling him I’d pick him up later.
I left him there, hoping and wishfully thinking that it would be a new beginning for my son.
Picking up the pieces.
I did hope for Andy to make new friends, but I hadn’t forgotten about the one he had already. I was a bit worried that John hadn’t been by, wondered if news of the incident had reached him and his parents. John had to be at school that time of day of course, but I knew where both of his parents worked. Lyle, at his independent garage and Cheryl was a shop assistant in a clothes store. One that catered to large sized women of all things.
I didn’t want to talk to Lyle about this, remembering far too well what John had told me about his father. I had always communicated more freely with Cheryl. I went in search for her, hoping the store wouldn’t be too busy. I checked the clock on the dashboard of the car, it was just after 10AM, which was when the store opened its doors to the customers. I parked my car in the street in front of it and entered a store I never thought I’d set foot in.
Cheryl was hanging up dresses the size of small circus tents, making me silently wonder what a woman fitting into one of those would look like naked. Even that rapper who made the song, “Baby got back” would have been in for more than he could handle. Shuddering at that thought, I cleared my mind and throat, making my presence aware to Cheryl who hadn’t yet noticed me. She turned to face me.
“Oh, hi Teddy. I don’t think we have anything in your size here,” she said, smiling at me.
“Well, I’m not really on the market for buying dresses, but I would like to talk to you, if you can spare a moment or two?”
Her smile stiffened as she led me to a table with room for two in the storage room of the shop. It was apparently where the assistants would eat their lunch and relax when there were no customers to help or circus tents to hang up on display.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked when we were both sitting.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there was some trouble with Andy and his cellphone at school last week,” I said.
“Yes, I’ve heard. John told me some of it and Michelle explained the rest. It’s awful that something like that happened. How’s Andy holding up?”
“It’s been really bad. I moved him to another school hoping he’ll survive the day. It’s his first day today.”
“Poor thing. I sure hope it’ll be better for him there.”
We talked about trivial matters before I finally found the guts to downright ask if Andy was going to see John again.
“Oh Teddy. I know how close the boys are and how much John thinks of you. I’ve tried to talk some sense into Lyle, but he’s being really stubborn. He won’t allow him to visit you again, I’m afraid.”
“John told me about something happening to him when he went to kindergarten. That Lyle had a talk to him and called him a pervert?”
“Yes, oh yes he did. He was much too harsh on John if you ask me. I don’t know why Lyle thinks it’s such a big thing really.”
“Would you back me, if I have a talk to Lyle? I mean, Andy has already gone through so many bad things, he really shouldn’t lose his best friend too.”
“I don’t know what I can possibly say. But, John has been really sad, he keeps telling me he wants to go and play with Andy or visit you. He’s not the same boy anymore. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks, Cheryl. Do you think Lyle will be too busy to see me now?”
“If you ask that man, he’ll be too busy to talk to anyone, no matter what time of day it is. Now is as good a time as any.”
I thanked her for the talk and got into my car. I had predicted it boiling down to this, but didn’t look forward having to talk to the bigoted man about this. I started the car and drove aimlessly around for a bit.
‘This is fucking ridiculously,’ I thought and turned the car around heading towards the garage.
I pulled up at Lyle’s garage and went searching for him. It wasn’t too difficult as it was, the garage had room for four cars, so it wasn’t exactly the biggest place. He was in the middle of putting a tire on a rim. I waited for him to finish, then walked over to him.
“Hey Lyle,” I called out, trying to make myself heard through the noise of a grinder one of his mechanics was using.
Lyle didn’t want to shout, he pointed towards the open doors of the garage and met me outside.
“What do you want? Trouble with your car again?”
“Trouble yes, but not with my car,” I said, then threw caution to the wind and continued, “No, I’ve got trouble with you.”
I could see Lyle try to puff himself up in front of me, “How so?”
“You’re refusing John to play with my son.”
“I’m not letting the little pervert play with your faggot son!”
I took a step back, readying my fist to fly through the air. Somehow managing to stop before I went too far.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” my voice bellowed through the air, “Did a guy try to rape you or something?”
“Not that it is any of your concerns, but yes. Someone did try that, a lot of years ago!”
It was an older cousin of his, the details not really important, but it had left Lyle with the impression that any guy wanting to do stuff to another guy was sick and perverted. When I asked him what he felt of me, knowing that I was gay, he had to admit I wasn’t all bad. But, he thought I probably had somehow influenced his son to let himself be sucked by Andy.
“I didn’t know John when he went to kindergarten. If, and that’s a very big if, if he is gay, I have had nothing to do with that. Listen, I’m sorry of what your cousin tried to do to you. That’s no way to behave, whether he’s gay or straight. Andy and John are still small boys. What they might do to each other isn’t done for the same reasons as you or I have sex. For them it’s just a game, childish curiosity really, getting to understand their bodies.”
“I still don’t like it,” Lyle said.
“Do you seriously think you can stop John from doing what he wants?” I asked, adding “Unless you lock him up for life, he’ll sooner or later do it again.”
I interrupted him, “Wouldn’t you prefer him to do it with Andy, rather than perhaps Jane? At least, Andy wants to play the same games. John could have forced himself on Jane or someone else to do what he wants. Like your cousin did to you.”
“Or maybe you really want John to turn into your cousin?”
“I know you don’t like the idea of John growing up to be gay, but put your own fears aside. Bury your dreams for John, you can’t force him to live life as you’d like him to. You’ll only make him resent you.”
We carried on for an hour like this, at the end he agreed to let John continue to be friends with Andy if he wanted to. And threatened to kill me, if he ever found out I was molesting John.
‘Well, you’ll have to find out first, won’t you? Besides, can you call it molesting if John truly wants me to?’
I left his garage, feeling like I could walk on clouds. I celebrated by eating lunch at BK, a rare treat. I picked up Andy at 1PM. He was playing with two of the other kids as I entered the school courtyard, a boy and the little girl that had studied me when I sat in on the class.
“Hi daddy,” he greeted me.
“Hi tiger. Who’re your friends?”
“This is Susan and that’s Randall,” he told me, then had me bend down so he could whisper in my ear, “Randall wets his bed too.”
I gasped, looking really surprised at Andy, “Really?”
Andy nodded. I looked over at Randall, he was shuffling his foot in the dirt blushing a bit and looked at me over the rim of his glasses.
“But, Andy, you can’t tell me other people’s secrets just like that.”
“It’s okay, he doesn’t hide it,” my son bubbled at me.
“Does everybody know that you do too?” I asked.
“Nuh uh. Only Randall and Susan.”
Susan told me she didn’t wet her bed, in fact never had according to her. I didn’t quite believe her, but let her be. They were kids of some of the teachers at the school, waiting for them, so they could go home.
As we drove home, Andy filled me in on his day. It had been a good day, once he was able to shed his fear. He told me that Randall had sat next to him on the playground in the first recess and told him he wet his bed.
“Just like that,” Andy said.
I am sure it was probably since I had told his teacher about Andy still wetting his bed and was feeling mighty depressed about it. I still thank the preschool teacher at that school for doing what she did to put Andy more at ease about it.
Later that evening, he allowed me to help him wash his body in the bathtub.
“Daddy, I’m not a baby, you know that, right?” he had asked me during dinner.
“I know Andy. You’re seven years old. You’re almost a grownup man,” I managed to say and still sound like I fully meant it.
“Aw daddyyy,” he objected.
“Okay, tiger. No, you’re not a baby, you haven’t been a baby for around five years now.”
“But,” he started, then paused. I could see something was bothering him a great deal, “is it okay if I still want you to wash me and help me get ready for bed?”
“I’ll always want to help you. Even if you twenty years from now come and ask me to help you, I would. With anything.”
He gave me a look and said, “I don’t want to use diapers when I’m 27.”
“I hope you won’t have to, but I wouldn’t ever stop loving you, even if you did.”
Of course, the request for help didn’t stop at simply bathing him nor fitting his diaper on him. No, he also insisted on me jerking him off to a powerful kiddy orgasm. Well, if you can call him thrusting his hips towards me while sporting an erection to be insisting. I didn’t mind helping him with that either, not one bit.
Everything was fine, yet I had a feeling it wouldn’t continue that way. Michelle had still not talked to Andy, and when Friday rolled along, he was still thinking he was going to her house for the next week. I damned the woman and her fiancé. Hoping they’d have something terrible happen to them. But, the task of explaining he was now living with only me fell to none other than yours truly.
Michelle had informed me of her decision the day after Andy was interviewed by the police. Or refused to be interviewed I should say. It had taken place Wednesday after school, thankfully the police could see my point of not interrupting his schooling more than absolutely necessary. That she told me so late, gave me little time to prepare what I was going to tell Andy.
“But daddy, I want to go to mom’s house,” he said after I had told him that he was to stay with me for the time being.
I took a deep breath, “Andy, you’re not going to Michelle’s house,” I got down on one knee, bringing my eyes level with his, “I don’t know when you’ll be able to live there again.”
“I HATE YOU!” he shouted at me and ran to his room.
Obviously he thought it was me who had made that decision. I sighed and got back on my feet. I looked longingly at the closed door to Andy’s bedroom. As I sadly shook my head and turned to walk into the living room, my eyes teared up. I only managed to walk the distance to one of the chairs at the dining table. I had to sit, it seemed like all strength left my body. I lowered my head, let it sink to rest on my arms.
Everything had been moving along nicely until that point. Andy had begun trusting me again, enjoyed going to school and John had even visited him the day before. Now it was back to square one. With even larger obstacles blocking the road to recovery. I sat for an hour, in silence. Well, nearly silence, I could hear noise from Andy’s bedroom, nothing severe though. I went to have a smoke outside. I had just lit it, when I heard the noise of a window breaking. It came from the other side of my house.
Where Andy’s room was. I practically flew to his door and nearly kicked it in during my rush to find out what had taken place. Andy’s room was wrecked. I have no other words to describe the mayhem that met my eyes, as I opened his door. He had ripped the curtains from his bunk bed, turned them into tiny shreds and spread them all over the floor.
The door to his cupboard holding most his clothing hung askew, only attached by the lower hinge. His clothes had joined the shredded curtains on the floor. I noticed a brand new pair of boxer shorts hanging from his ceiling lamp. The underwear sported quite a few more holes than the original design. Toys, many broken, were scattered all over. The window was broken, it had been the noise of it breaking I had heard. The wind from outside made the window drapes flap.
Strangely, the drapes looked like they had survived unlike the glass of the window. It looked like a bomb had went off inside his once so neat looking bedroom. Now, it looked like a scene from a disaster movie. The lead character of that movie was laying on the bare mattress of his bed. I gingerly made my way towards him, trying hard not to step on anything but failed miserably at it. There was simply too much debris on the floor.
After I realized that, I used my socked feet like little bulldozer blades, moving stuff out of the way. I sat on the mattress next to Andy. He moved, not to make space for me, but to get as far away from me as he could. I put my hand on his back, could feel the anger and hatred burning inside of him as his body literally shook under it. I’m not fully sure how I felt about what I took in. It was a mix of many things.
Primarily, I was amazed of how much my little boy, all of seven years old, had managed to destroy in such little time and making so little noise. I also felt relieved that he seemingly hadn’t hurt himself in the process. Sadness, disappointment and a whole lot of anger were fleeting feelings too. The anger was directed towards Michelle of course. I was a tiny bit disappointed in Andy, but I hope he didn’t pick up on it. I understood why he had wrecked his room.
My boy didn’t cry at the time, he was just staring at the wall, trying his best to ignore my presence. I caressed his back, moving my hand in large lazy ovals moving from his shoulder to his butt. After a few minutes of silence I asked him if he felt like lending me a hand picking up the mess he had caused. When he continued to ignore me, I let out a small sigh and went to get a large plastic garbage bag. The type I usually put weeds and clippings in while gardening.
At first, Andy kept ignoring me while I picked up his room. Well, I was actually more sorting broken or ripped stuff from the things I thought were intact or could easily be put back together. It was really quite a small pile of salvageable stuff compared to what I put into the bag. For every item I kept, two or three items had to be thrown out. I went about this task while I talked to Andy.
“You should really just have told me that you didn’t like transformers anymore,” I said as I dug out one of the figures with parts ripped off of it. It looked like it was missing both an arm and the head, if that’s what it was called anyway. “Some kid might have enjoyed playing with this, you know?”
I kept my voice light, not mocking nor lecturing the boy, not too much at least. Finally he turned his head to look at what I was doing. Reluctantly he joined me in order to save his precious Lego Technics pieces from ending up in the plastic bag. I had just told him I was about to go get the broom and a dustpan then I’d throw out everything that lay on the floor, regardless of it being clothes or toys. Being a typical boy, he was more worried of losing his toys than his clothes.
Fortunately there wasn’t much broken glass inside his room, most of that lay outside. He had thrown a fist sized rock not just at, but through the double layered glass of the window. The rock had left quite a big rough shaped hole, with several cracks leading towards the edges of the window from the hole. It was too late to get someone out to replace the glass, I had to tape it up myself. The temporary patch had to suffice until the window was replaced.
Only when we had finally picked up his room, and were eating dinner, did he show a bit of remorse over what he had done.
“Daddy, I dunno why I went nuts,” he told me.
“I think you were really frustrated and didn’t know what to do?”
He nodded solemnly to my question.
“Well, when it happens in the future, please try to talk to me about it, okay?”
He sighed heavily then said, “It just isn’t fair. Why me? Why does everybody want to hurt me?”
“Tiger… Andy, I do not want to hurt you. John doesn’t want to hurt you. Your new friends at school don’t want to hurt you. I bet you, not a lot of people want you to hurt.”
“Michelle hurt me,” he said in a firm voice, “When will you hurt me?”
“Michelle is still your mom, son. Don’t hold your breath while waiting for me to hurt you, it won’t happen any time soon.”
“She’s no longer my mom!” he said still trying to act tough.
“Why did she leave me anyway?” His voice changed as he asked me that. Signs of the real Andy shone through the tough, but fake façade.
“I don’t know, Andy. I really don’t. She didn’t tell me why.”
Okay, I did know, and I did tell Andy more of it later on. I was afraid to tell him at the time, worried he was too young to really understand it. Hell, even I didn’t fully understand her reasons.
Life goes on.
Even if Michelle had told me she didn’t want anything to do with Andy, I made damned sure she wouldn’t forget him. I went to the family section of the county and told them I wanted sole custody of Andy. I told them the reason for it, Michelle had chosen to abandon my son, pursue life for herself with little interest in what happened to Andy. I also applied for child support, which was my right as a single parent now that Michelle was out of the picture.
All of this was something Andy didn’t know about. He was never involved in this rather important part of negotiating his future. He was too young to have anything to say, in the eyes of the law. Still, I got pretty much what I wanted. Michelle was left with visitation rights that allowed her to spend time with Andy for exactly six hours every other Saturday. She felt it was extremely unfair that she had to pay money to me, but was reminded by the clerk from the county that it was money to her son, not me.
The county also ordered her to hand over any and all items belonging to Andy to me. One morning not so long afterwards I woke up to find two large black garbage bags with clothes and toys outside my door. I don’t know if they had been there overnight or just for a few hours, but it was Andy’s stuff. When Andy saw what it was, he ever so quietly started crying. He didn’t really believe his mom would just disappear out of his life. But the two bags, well, they were evidence that couldn’t so easily be ignored.
He didn’t have another mental breakdown, I think he had realized just how much of his stuff he had destroyed the last time. The fact that his mother left him, did scar my sweet little boy though. He craved for my attention, always seeking reaffirmation of me never going to leave him. When I told him I could never hurt him like that, I loved him far too much to cause him so much pain he looked at me.
“Daddy, it hurts me when you spank me,” he told me seriously.
“I know, but I spank you because I love you.”
“Your love sure hurts a lot.”
I spent a good twenty minutes explaining that sometimes parents need to discipline children. That I only ever resorted to spanking him when all else had failed.
“Andy, sometimes your skull is just too thick for my words to reach your mind. Then I have to get through to you using your rear end.”
I made sure he understood, that even though I’d never deliberately hurt him like his mother had done, I would still spank him if he misbehaved to a certain point. We came to an agreement right then, he’d do his best to listen to me. I promised to give him a chance of voicing his concerns, but if I deemed it necessary I could discipline him the way I saw fit. The times I had to spank his butt from then on could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
He turned eleven before he could go to sleep without hearing that I’d still be there for him when he woke the next morning. It was the last thing I told him, after I kissed him goodnight.
As said earlier, John started pushing himself into our live again, not that we didn’t welcome him. We had both missed him when he wasn’t around, but for different reasons I’m sure. He still wanted me to stick-it-in-his-butt, but it was easier said than done. Andy was home with me at all times now, at least when John was able to come around. Neither John, nor I, wanted Andy to know I fucked him. John didn’t want Andy to think he was weird for wanting to be fucked.
I didn’t want Andy to get jealous of John receiving a different kind of attention than I gave him. However, John started spending one entire weekend with us every month, with the blessing of his parents. Those weekends, he stayed up far later than Andy and got fucked both to his and my satisfaction. The other three weekends of the month, he was allowed to stay over from Friday afternoon to Saturday afternoon. Those nights, he slept with an increasingly larger butt plug buried in his boy hole.
That kept the sweet itch he had developed in his ass at bay, but did nothing for me of course. John would usually suck me off and swallow my sperm after I came, much to Andy’s disgust. I think part of the reason he swallowed my sperm, was to observe Andy’s reactions to it. I think he really found pride in doing something Andy swore he’d never do. Probably thought it made him the more grownup of the two boys.
Because, and make no mistake about this, the boys did compete for my approval. It didn’t matter if I told them I had enough love for both of them. They still felt the need to arise before me as the victor of something or another. I’m not sure why they bothered doing it as I treated neither one any differently from the other, regardless of who won their boyish games. That’s until one day, where I heard them set up the rules for a game.
Not the rules for how the game was to be won, I didn’t overhear that, actually I didn’t really hear much of anything they had been discussing until I heard Andy say what the loser had to do.
“The loser has to suck my daddy’s dick until he sperms inside the loser’s mouth. Then swallow.”
That’s when I started paying attention. I knew Andy had to have felt mighty confident in his own chances of winning. Either that, or he was looking for an excuse to finally get a taste of my sperm. More precisely, be forced to do so, in case he chickened out.
When they told me of the game they were going to play, I just knew it had to be because Andy had gotten curious. They’d each select a card from a deck of cards. The highest card won. If the cards were the same, they’d keep drawing another card until the winner had been declared.
There was a 50-50 chance of winning. Unless one of them knew how to pack cards. I stepped in, deciding to do away with that risk. I shuffled the cards and spread them out on the floor in front of the boys. Moved all 52 cards around on the floor. Now, the boys would have no way of knowing which card they drew. Unless one had marked them in one way or another. They weren’t professional poker players though. Both were small boys, one now eight and the other still seven years old. That day John drew the losing card.
To this day, I’m still not sure what Andy felt when he realized he had won the game. At first he actually quite looked like he had been the one losing, then as if he had just remembered that he had to look happy to play the part of the winner, his face lit up. I had to degrade myself in front of the boys, allowing my trousers to be lowered then my underwear. And finally be sucked to conclusion by one boy while the other closely observed what was going on.
Afterwards, still with trousers and underwear by my ankles, be subjected to the look of John opening his mouth, showing Andy the stuff I had shot into it. Only to see him making a huge deal out of swallowing it and opening his mouth yet again to have it inspected by Andy. Yeah, sometimes life as a single dad is extremely cumbersome. But, it did have moments of true delightfulness in it as well.
Like the next day, when the boys decided to have a rematch. Exactly the same happened, John lost again. This time, Andy really couldn’t fake being happy. John noticed it as well, and after a quick look at me, seeking approval, he called Andy a cheater. Oh, Andy wasn’t below cheating, but this wasn’t one of the times where he had tried doing so. I’m fairly sure if he had been able to, he would’ve made sure John won the game. So he, Andy, could finally get to taste cum.
I need to make one thing perfectly clear here, even if Andy was fairly easy to manipulate into doing things he absolutely didn’t want to, neither John nor I had done anything to get Andy more involved in sex with me. I was quite happy with him allowing me to have sex with John. I was delighted when Andy would decide to jerk me off, or briefly suck on my dick when he was certain none of the foul stuff would pump into his mouth. The rules of the card game had come from Andy’s mind with no help from John.
The boys immediately started bickering. I ended it, by having them pull another card each. I don’t know the odds of it, but they both pulled a jack, albeit from different suits of course. So they pulled another one. This time John went first, and turned his chosen card. It was the six of spades. It sure looked like I had to endure another blowjob from John. Andy knew it was a slight chance he had. I could see it in his facial expression. He turned his card. It was the four of hearts.
Andy lost the game. If you had happened to look at him just then, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he lost. At first, at least; then he gulped, knowing what was now expected of him. I nearly called the whole thing off, but then my son looked up at me.
“Just take them off, dad,” he said.
While I unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, Andy got up on knees and shuffled closer, spreading the cards as he approached me. He came to a stop right in front of me, my dick hovering before his face. He had no problems opening his mouth and quickly taking my dick in it. His technique was similar to John’s, but he didn’t have quite the same level of expertise. It was actually unfair to Andy to compare him to John. John had sucked my dick many times more than Andy.
My dick was, as I’m sure I’ve told you before, quite bigger than that of John’s. Which was only natural, John still had a couple of years to go before his dick would grow like it had been hit with an ample dosage of fertilizer. But, the difference in size meant Andy had to go about sucking me off differently than when he gave John his tickles, his kiddy orgasm. It took some more effort as well, but I did shoot my stuff into his mouth rather quick.
The thought of Andy swallowing my little baby makers, a deed he had on numerous occasions said he’d never do, sped up the time it took to bring me over the top. Here was a little kid kneeling in front of me, doing his best to get my sperm to shoot into his mouth. If that hadn’t been enough, the thought of him being my son, knowing just how big a taboo people thought it was to have sex with your own offspring, took it all to another dimension. Well, it wasn’t just a taboo, but a highly illegal act, which only added to the thrill.
Andy nearly jerked his head back as the first shot of sperm entered his mouth. He quickly pulled himself together maintaining a gentle sucking action on just the very end of my dick head. His lips sat firmly lodged around halfway down the glans. He looked up at me, as if waiting for me to tell him it was safe to move off my dick. As he didn’t hold onto my dick with his hands, I used a couple of fingers to milk it a couple of times. Making sure he got every drop of sperm into his mouth.
“Andy, when you let go of my dick, let me see inside your mouth before you show John, okay?” I asked him.
He nodded, then opened his mouth wide so I could see what I had pumped into it. It was hard to tell what was what, saliva or sperm. He had a decent mouthful however. I wasn’t allowed a prolonged look at it, as he was scrunching up his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. Showing all the signs of being disgusted by what was in his mouth. I quickly thanked him and he let John have a very short look into his mouth as well.
He swallowed a couple of times, pulling another face, then opened up to let both John and me see for ourselves that he had in fact swallowed all of it.
“Daddy, can I please have some milk,” he asked after we were done inspecting his mouth.
‘You just had some,’ I thought but knew it was cow’s milk he wanted. It sounded like a good idea to me, it would probably help settle his stomach right down.
“Sure, you want cocoa in it?”
“No, just milk.”
John didn’t want anything to drink, he politely refused my offer. After Andy had finished his glass of milk, the boys let me watch as John sucked Andy off. This marked the beginning of a new era, they no longer played the secret game behind the closed door in Andy’s bedroom, but more openly enjoyed themselves throughout the house. However, when they started fiddling with each other’s dicks at the dinner table, I stopped them.
I’ve made it sound like everything was now back on track, as if life couldn’t have been any sweeter. While that is true for some aspects of our lives, it certainly wasn’t in other. One of the reasons for that lived just two houses over from mine. It was an almost daily reminder of what life had once been to both Andy and I. Well, Michelle didn’t really live there anymore, she still owned the house, but I never saw anyone around there. I think it happened two months after the garbage bags with Andy’s stuff appeared on my doorstep.
“There’s a sign in Michelle’s front yard,” Andy told me one day after he got home from one of his rare visits to John’s house.
I kind of knew what that meant, but wanted to see for myself. When I got closer to her house, I could see the sign. Andy pointed it out to me, just in case I had missed it. It was a for sale sign. I’m not sure who took it worse, but I suspect it really was Andy. If the two bags of clothes and toys hadn’t been proof enough, that sign was. It proved to Andy that his mother didn’t love him enough to want to live near him. He tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal to him but he didn’t do a convincing job of it.
I found him sitting on his swing in the backyard. It was in the middle of November, much too cold for him to sit outside without his winter jacket. I saw him as I went out, wanting to sit and chill with a cigarette. I thought of leaving him alone, but couldn’t just let him sit like that. When I got back out and walked to him, I noticed he was shivering as he sat there. He didn’t want to put on his jacket, let alone the mittens and warm hat I had brought with me.
In the end, I put the items on him. I didn’t mind him wanting to have some alone time, but obviously didn’t want him to get sick from it.
“If you want to talk, I’m here for you,” I let him know, before I left him to do what I had wanted to when I saw him.
As I smoked my cigarette I looked at him. He sat very still on his swing. If he did move about, I didn’t notice it. If not for the colors of his clothing and his bright pink cheeks, it could have been the perfect sculpture of a boy on a swing.
He didn’t come when I told him dinner was ready. The light of day had turned into darkness not long after I left him out there. The temperature had dropped considerably too. It wasn’t exactly freezing, but the chill factor of the brisk late autumn wind made it feel like it. I went out to the swing set, thinking he might have run off, but found him still sitting on the swing. This time I gave him no choice, hefted him into my arms before walking back to the house.
He certainly was no longer a baby, he weighed far too much for that. I was still able to carry him the short distance to the house with relative ease. It wasn’t until I got his jacket off, that I noticed just how chilled he was. No, he was downright cold to touch. I let the food sit on the table, no longer hungry, taking the boy into the bathroom. As the tub filled with lukewarm water I undressed my son. I don’t think he did it deliberately but he really scared me.
He just stood there silently as I turned on both taps on the bathtub faucet. I studied him while I waited for the tub to get at least a little water in it. It was like his brain had just shut off. Sure, he was still breathing, so there had to be someone home in the penthouse of his body. The lights were at least on, but it wasn’t exactly a dance party happening up there.
The shivers had gotten worse, so by the time I got him out of his jeans and jumper, I just plonked him into the tub. He still had on a t-shirt, underwear and socks. As he sat there, I shut off the cold water tap.
The water coming out of the faucet was now hot enough to scald, but it went in to the tub in the opposite end of where Andy sat. It mixed with the somewhat cooler water already in the tub, only slowly rising the overall temperature of the water. I kept checking the temperature as I poured water onto the parts of his body that weren’t covered by water.
I blamed myself for letting him sit out there for so long. And in that weather. If he got sick, I was the one responsible for it. I was meant to take care of him, help him grow up. Not bloody kill him.
As the water level rose, far higher than I had ever let it get to when bathing Andy, so did the temperature of the water. In the end I turned on the cold water as well, I only wanted to warm him, not boil him. The shivers rippling his body decreased but then his teeth started clattering. When both had come to a complete stop and didn’t reappear, I drained the water from the tub. He stood up when asked to and managed to stay on his feet while I dried his body off.
I was drying his hair while combing it when he finally said something. I couldn’t make out the words through the noise from the blow dryer though.
“What did you say, Andy?” I asked when I got it turned off.
“She’s really gone now, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I’m sorry but she did leave.”
“She’s gone because I’m bad.”
He pronounced every word perfectly, though very softly. I didn’t realize it at the time, but as I think of the moment now, I remember.
“Andy, you didn’t do anything wrong. That kid who took your phone, he’s the one who did something wrong.”
It took a life time trying to convince Andy that he wasn’t the one to blame for any of it. I did tell him that it wasn’t the smartest move to film himself while sucking off John, but it wasn’t a crime. That some people thought it was disgusting to do something like that, but they really should keep their opinions to themselves. Nobody forced the kid to watch it, he could have just turned it off. I told him his mother still loved him, but it was Hank who didn’t like what he had done.
“She didn’t love me.”
“She did Andy. But, she loved Hank more. I hope she’ll regret that decision for the rest of her life, but I can’t force her to change her mind.”
Even if Andy told me he didn’t care for her love anymore, I knew he lied about it. We all need to feel love and when it’s taken away from you, it’s like a little part of you wither away and dies. You can try to substitute it, but it’ll never be the same as it once was.
The food on the table was all but forgotten, it had long since gotten cold. My stomach made me aware that dinnertime had come and gone, but somehow I hadn’t fed it. I didn’t feel like reheating the food, simply threw it out and found some chicken soup in the freezer. I heated that in the microwave oven, Andy ate only a little of what I had placed in front of him. I didn’t force him to eat more, if he got hungry overnight, he’d just have to eat a bit more at breakfast.
I tucked him in not long after I finished eating, I had put him in his diaper after the warm bath I gave him so he was ready to go. After swearing I really wasn’t going to leave him too, I kissed him goodnight and closed the door. Normally it was enough with a promise of being there for him in the morning, but that night he made me swear an oath. I had a hard time falling asleep myself, more than once I got out of bed to silently check on him.
I woke him gently the next morning and he greeted me in a raspy, hoarse voice that caught even him by surprise. He coughed then told me he didn’t feel so well.
I touched his forehead with the back of my hand. It felt a bit hot but it could just have been from sleeping under the heavy covers, wearing a thick onesie pajamas and of course his diapers. Just to make sure, I went to get the thermometer.
“No, daddy,” Andy immediately protested as he saw the thermometer and the small tin of petroleum jelly that I always used to lube it up with.
I held my ground, ignored his objections and managed to get the zipper in his onesie down. He surrendered then, allowed me to pull his arms out of the sleeves so I could slide the upper part of his onesie down over his bum. I undid one of the taps holding his diaper closed around his body and bared enough of his bum to be able to gently spread his buttocks and sink in the thermometer to where it had to sit for half a minute. I held it there, comforting the boy it had been stuck into by caressing his back.
I could see the digits changing on the display as the tip of the thermometer warmed to the temperature inside Andy’s bum. It didn’t take long at all before it beeped (the thermometer, not his bum) indicating that it was done. The display read 38.3C (101F) and I handed it over to Andy when he requested to see. He was running a fever, but not one that required medical attention.
“Well, Andy, looks like you’re not going to school today.”
It sounded funny coming out in that raspy voice. I wasn’t surprised at his words though. He really enjoyed his new school. As he damned well should, it was fairly expensive, but some of the cost was covered by the state. At least the level of education was worth it, along with other perks like the kids being able to select a fruit to eat in every recess and a hot lunch. It made my life a little easier not having to prepare lunch for Andy, though I would have gladly kept doing so, if all the other crap hadn’t taken place.
But, our lives would have changed one way or another. If he hadn’t gotten into the fight at school, Michelle and I would have fought over who got to have Andy most if not all of the time. It will probably make me sound terribly selfish when I say I prefer what actually happened to having Andy pulled out of my life. I can’t help it however, I really do. All I really needed then was a guy who I could marry and share the responsibility of being a parent with.
I did need someone who I could trust, share my concerns with. But I really didn’t want to stop having sex with my boys. Yeah, I was starting to think of John as my boy. Of course, he had his parents but he also had me. Anyway, if I found a guy who’d move in with me, having sex with the kids would be extremely hard, if not downright impossible. I turned to my parents when I had to be reinforced of what I was doing was the right thing. No, I didn’t tell them about the sex I had with John and Andy. Of course not.
I talked to them about my concerns with parenting, discipline and food. One way or another they had managed to bring both me and my brother, Tom, into the world and mold us into what we had become.
Tom, yeah, I haven’t really written a whole lot about him, I know that. We weren’t really close, but we could at least be in the same room without trying to kill each other. I just couldn’t stand him for longer periods of time.
Our personalities were extremely different. He was super straight for one, was married with Karen, yeah the girlfriend he had imagined sucking him off while stuffing his dick in my mouth. Against my will of course. We never talked about that though, he seemed to have forgotten all about it and I hoped someday I would too. They had two girls, ten and eleven years old. They lived in another part of the country, a three hour drive from where I lived.
We didn’t really mingle, pretty much only saw each other every other Christmas at our parent’s house. Each time I saw him, he was boasting about something new, like how he had built his own house. Well, building his own house was something to be proud of I suppose, but even the most trivial things could be turned into something that he could use to make himself look better than me. I didn’t feel the need to flaunt my accomplishments in his face.
Anyway, I digress yet again. I stayed at home with Andy. I got him out of the spent diaper, cleaned him up a bit and put a new one on him. I knew he’d probably spend a lot of the day asleep and I didn’t want to risk him having an accident. I called work, letting them know I was taking a day off, due to my kid being sick. Then called the school telling them Andy wasn’t coming to school that day. I told them it was probably just a cold and hoped he’d be back by Monday.
That day being Friday, John was supposed to arrive directly after school. I seriously didn’t know whether or not to cancel his visit that weekend, but it was the one full weekend where I had access to fuck him. Yeah, Andy was sick, but if it was only a common cold, he’d just cough and sneeze for a couple of days. John might catch it from Andy, but kids got infected by other kids all the time. Having nothing better to do with my time, I sat and played a strategy game on my computer.
It was just one of the Red Alert games, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten which one exactly, but it isn’t so important either. Andy was out cold in his bed, well, wrong expression really, as he was quite hot with the fever, but at least he was sleeping. I left his door ajar, but the new curtains on his bunk bed helped block out the by then rising sun. Just as the moment arrived where I had built enough units to attack the enemy base, I heard him call out for me.
I paused the game and went to see what he wanted. He was thirsty, so I made him some tea and put a lot of honey in it. If I had a bottle of brandy, I would have spiced it up some, but I don’t really drink much then and now it’s really only a beer every now and then on a really hot summer’s day.
“I hafta pee, daddy,” he told me when I brought the mug of tea to him.
“Just do it in the diaper. It’s why I put it on you,” he made a face at me when I said that, “I know you’re not a baby. Peeing in a diaper won’t turn you into one.”
I left him to think about that, putting the mug on a chair within easy reach. Leaving the door ajar again, I went back to playing the game, giving Andy some privacy while he took care of business. When I checked in on him again, he had gone back to sleep, the mug now sitting empty on the chair. I let him sleep but took the mug and cleansed it before putting it into the dish washer.
He asked for more tea around lunch, but didn’t want anything to eat. I put a fresh diaper on him, quite expecting him to go back to sleep. Shortly after leaving his room, he came to the living room bringing his pillow and bed covers. I tucked him in on the couch, loaded the DVD player with his favorite movie and had lunch. He fell asleep on the couch sometimes during the movie. He woke when John rang the doorbell and seemed really happy to see him.
“Why are you in jammies now?” John asked him.
“I’m sick,” Andy told him before erupting in a long coughing fit.
John scurried away from him before saying, “don’t pass your bugs to me!”
I made some chicken soup, it was about the time where the boys would demand a snack for the afternoon and I hoped I could coerce something more nutritious than tea into Andy. Even if I added plenty of honey to the tea, it wasn’t something he’d be able to get by on for a longer period of time. John ate the soup, noisily slurping it from the spoon. It was a bit harder to convince Andy to start eating. He managed swallowing a few spoons of soup, then pushed the bowl away from him.
“I feel like throwing up,” he objected to my wishes of him eating just a little more.
He didn’t look queasy, but I didn’t force him. He wanted to go back to bed and I helped him make it. I patted his cheek lovingly before leaving him to fall asleep.
John hadn’t followed us to the bedroom, he sat at the table, waiting for me to return.
“I don’t want to get sick,” he told me, “please don’t make me sleep in Andy’s room tonight.”
“Want to sleep in my bed instead?” I asked and smirked at him.
“Well, I’m not sure if I can keep my hands off of you.”
“I might even accidently fuck you.”
“Speaking of fucking,” I said and pointed at my groin, “I think my dick is hard.”
He looked at me questionably.
I got up, moved closer to where he was sitting. Much closer.
“Mind helping a guy out here?” I asked.
He reached a hand out, stroked my dick through the sweatpants I was wearing. It was easily done, I wasn’t wearing any underwear, “Want me to suck it,” I heard him ask.
“That would be cool, but I was really hoping you’d let me stick in your little bum.”
He sounded alarmed. I had never fucked him during the day while Andy was home.
“Andy is sleeping,” was all I had to say.
I checked to make sure of that after I had helped John flush out his ass. John could probably do it himself by then, but it was strangely erotic to fill him with water; preparing the little boy to be fucked by my dick was a big part of the experience to me. Andy seemed to be sleeping, I swear. He really was, when I looked in on him. He must have woken up, because suddenly the door to my bedroom opened and he walked in on us.
‘Now I know what my mom and dad must have felt when I did that to them back then.’
I hadn’t been much older than Andy at the time, well I was eleven. I clearly remember it, I had been given permission to ride my bike to the lake I went swimming in with Casey back then. I had rode for about a kilometer when I realized I had forgotten to bring a book. Yeah, I was a bookworm then, still am. I turned around and headed home. Barged into my parents’ bedroom and found my dad laying on top of my mom.
Awkward, that’s how I felt, but I mumbled out an apology, grabbed whichever book was nearest from the large bookcase they had in the room. And fled the scene as quickly as I possible could. Now, I can still chuckle at the looks on their faces as they looked at me. At least they were both underneath the covers, so I wasn’t scarred for life seeing their naked bodies.
My son, well he saw everything. Not that he hadn’t seen it all before, he just hadn’t seen me with my dick inside John’s asshole.
“Are you fucking?” he asked us.
“Uh, yes, tiger, we are.”
“Oh,” was all he managed to say before vomiting on my bedroom floor. It wasn’t much, fortunately, but he certainly managed to turn my attention to him rather than John. I quickly pulled my dick from John’s asshole, I heard him gasp at the rapid withdrawal. Grabbing hold of Andy, lifting him up with a hand in both of his armpits I got him in front of the toilet. Just in time too. John came out of my bedroom, naked, had a look at what went on.
His cheeks changed color, switched from looking flushed to ashen gray.
“Put on a coat and go stand on the terrace for a minute, John.”
Yeah, it was bloody cold outside, but the fresh air would hopefully prevent me from having to deal with two boys throwing up. He’d get cold yes, but would hopefully keep the chicken soup in his stomach.
Andy had stopped retching, there really hadn’t been much of anything inside his belly. I wiped his face for him, then had him brush his teeth, while I found another pajamas for him. I put him back to bed, then went to tell John to come in and sit on the couch. It looked as if he’d pull through without barfing too. After cleaning up the mess on my bedroom floor, I opened the window in there along with one in the living room.
It got cold quickly, but the draft soon did away with the horrid smell. I sat down next to John on the couch and pulled him close to me.
“Sorry buddy,” I said quietly, “I didn’t think that was going to happen.”
“Andy saw us.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, he will. He told me he would if I did stuff with you without him.”
That was exactly how he said it. Yeah, it took me some time to work it out as well.
“Buddy, John will not kill you. Oh, sure he might be mad at you. Right now though, he’s probably busy worrying about being sick.”
“I’m so fucked,” John just said.
‘Not fucked nearly enough, if you ask me,’ my inner, annoying voice told me.
“We’ll find a way to work it out. Don’t worry buddy.”
He let the air from his lungs escape through his mouth in an exaggerated sigh.
“Can I get dressed now?” he asked me.
“Yeah, I think we better get some clothes on, both of us.”
Fortunately John didn’t leave my house that afternoon. He actually spent the full weekend as was the agreement with his parents. I showed him how to play Red Alert. He only needed a little instruction, then got the hang of it quickly. It was mostly what things to research and what units he should build that he needed help with. I left him to play for a while to go check on Andy. He was awake, barely so, but managed to ask me to tell John that he really wasn’t mad at him.
I stayed with him for half an hour, then went back to John. He had in the meantime built up an army of infantry units. I’m not kidding, he had built so many that the game was lagging. Especially as he ordered every single one of them to move out. I expected a genocide; that the enemy, the computer, would certainly have a field day killing them off. But amazingly, John won that map. He lost about 95% of the army he had built, but somehow proved the Lenin doctrine of just having enough men to spare, you would win.
It was only a game of course, John was just a kid, so I didn’t lecture him on sending all those units to their death.
Later, that night, we went back to bed only for sleeping, not to fuck. None of us were in the mood for that, not so quickly after what had taken place earlier that day. All traces of it were gone, the smell too. It had been replaced by the smell of cleaner, supposedly lemon scented. John snuggled up to me, real close. I was on my stomach, he on his side facing me. I woke up some time later to find his arm and leg resting on top of me.
‘He’s treating me like I belong to him,’ I managed to think before going back to sleep. His arm and leg still on top of me. I rather liked how it felt.
Andy was a lot better by the next morning, no longer had an upset stomach. He still coughed as you might have expected, as well as sneezing every so often. When he sneezed it wasn’t just a single time, it was any number of times from three to one massive attack of seven times in a row.
“This sucks!” he informed John and me as he blew his nose yet another time that day.
I called my mom, but she didn’t know of any magic tricks to help Andy get better, only told me to keep him warm and hydrated. More importantly, she made the offer of watching him while I went to work Monday, if he hadn’t gotten better by then.
The rest of Saturday was spent indoors, but when Sunday morning arrived both boys wanted to go outside. They were fed up from being inside for so long, as was I. I made sure Andy got dressed up in the bib suit, Cheryl had given me. It had been John’s but the kid had outgrown it. It was still good for at least another year however and I readily accepted it in order to save a little money. Kid’s clothing is just so expensive, even the unbranded stuff.
I joined the boys in the backyard, instantly being commanded to push them as they sat on the swings. When it was about time for lunch I left them to swing by themselves while I prepared the food. Andy looked much better from having been outside in the fresh air for a couple of hours, but wanted to take a nap after lunch. I had him pee before he lay down to sleep in just his underwear.
Even if John was a bit scared of having sex with me while Andy slept, I soon had him convinced it would be okay. Andy hadn’t killed him after all, not even yelled at him for doing stuff with me. All he had really done was ask if what we were doing was fucking. Which I hoped we’d do again that early Sunday afternoon. We did fuck, but not really how I had planned it.
Everything started out in much the same fashion, John was flushed out, I had my finger pretty far up his hot bottom, but that was when things changed a bit.
“Teddy, what’s it feel like when you stick it in me?” he asked me.
I couldn’t really explain it to him, couldn’t find the words that described it properly. Instead I asked him if he wanted to experience it for himself.
“Well, you could fuck me, you know, stick your dick in my ass?”
He looked at his dick, then at my face, “is it not too small?”
“Only one way to find out. Want to try?”
I went to flush myself out, just to make sure I was clean. I didn’t spend a lot of time doing it, figuring his dick was too small for triggering a bowel movement. It was a bit tricky to get into a position where he’d be able to actually fuck me. I didn’t want him to just poke his dick head into my anus and then slip right out. Laying on my back with my legs straight up in the air and pulling at my butt cheeks seemed to be the way of making it happen.
I asked John if he could see my hole and when he said yes, I had him put a little lube on it. He didn’t stop at that however, soon I could feel his finger poking into me. I had done that to him so many times, so he knew what to do. He stuck two fingers inside, which I guess wasn’t really necessary, but I let him do it anyway. He worked my hole for a minute or two with his fingers, then put some lube on his dick. Of course after he had examined the fingers that had just been inside of me.
I guess they looked okay to him, as he grabbed hold of his little joystick and moved closer to me. I could feel it poking at me, close to my hole, but not nearly close enough. Wanting to help him, I reached down but received a slap to my hand.
“I can do this,” he told me.
I looked at his face, he was looking down at his dick and my ass with intense concentration. The tip of his tongue pushed just a wee bit out between his lips on the left side of his mouth. His dick poked at my ass again.
“Point it a little lower,” I told him.
The next push sent his dick into my ass, when he felt the head enter, he pushed everything he had straight into me. His dick wasn’t small for a boy of his age, but he couldn’t hurt me with that thing even if he had wanted to. Sure, I could feel it was inside of me, and it was a very nice feeling to finally have a dick in my ass again. It just wasn’t big enough to be able to fill me out the way an adult sized dick would have. John’s dick just wasn’t long enough to reach my prostate.
I could tell he enjoyed jabbing his dick in and out of me, even more so as I firmed my sphincter up around his dick. He continued to observe the center of action, watching his dick appear then disappear back into my bum.
“Wow, this is hard work,” he told me as he wiped his eyebrow with the back of his hand. “I’m actually sweating.”
He had been going for around five minutes at the time, none too gently either. It was like he had turned into a little dog, humping his dick into me.
“It won’t take so much energy once you get a little more practice.”
He looked up at me, “You mean I get to do this again?”
“Anytime you want.”
“I’d want to do it often.”
“Great, long as I can fuck you as well from time to time.”
He nodded then concentrated on making his hips move forwards and backwards. He hadn’t actually stopped while talking to me, just slowed down some. He picked up speed for a few more minutes then pulled his dick out and frantically jerked it while gasping loudly. He stood on wobbly knees for a moment then got onto the bed laying down next to me. He looked at his dick, as if full of wonder of the pleasure it could provide him.
“That was so cool,” he said as he let his head fall back onto the mattress.
I whacked my dick while John rested next to me; just before I came, he leaned in and took my dick into his mouth. Most of it anyway, he couldn’t deep throat me, not back then. It wasn’t necessary anyway, I just as happily shot my sperm into his mouth. He made me groan as he lapped up the leftover traces of cum on the glans of my dick.
He had to leave to go home, but had just enough time to share a shower with me and allow me to blow dry his hair. I couldn’t let him go out in the cold with damp hair, besides, I didn’t want his parents to know he had just showered before coming home, maybe prompting them to ask him why.
I woke Andy and played a game of cards with him until we were interrupted by the pizza guy dropping off the food I had ordered. Andy was yet again behaving like any boy his age, eating like a horse that evening. He was still coughing by the next morning, so I called my mom asking her to please take care of him. Just while I was at work. Things were really starting to come together for me. Well, that’s what it sure seemed like.