Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2016 11:02:21 +0100 From: Boy Ahoy Subject: Is it true that you like boys Gay Adult/Youth Gay Urination IS IT TRUE THAT YOU LIKE BOYS by Boy Ahoy Vignette, M/b Disclaimer: Don't be fooled by little boys who knock at your door on Halloween, looking for love. Slam the door in their cute little faces! Author's note: This is more low key than my usual stuff. It is based on a real-life incident told to me by a reader I care much about. Nifty is a beautiful garden with many beautiful, fragrant flowers. Sure, some of the smell like little boy pee, but that is part of the charm. The gardener needs money to keep it open, so consider donating a small amount! See how here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html On with the story: ______________________ Halloween. Used to be my favourite holiday, now - not so much. The day before Halloween, my phone buzzed and opened a window showing a stern woman coming through the low gate between my garden and the street. She marched up to my house with firm steps, and rang the silent door bell, then knocked at the door. After a few incidents, I had two motion-detecting cams installed, one at the gate to the property and one at the door, to avoid unpleasantness, name-calling, violent drunks, the kids who ring the bell and run. The woman was trying to peek through the small window at the top of the door. The fisheye view of the cam above the door made her nose look big - most fitting, considering what she was here for. I opened. She didn't say anything, just held out a paper. It had a pumpkin on it with a large X over it. I looked at it, then reached behind me, on the hall table, and showed her a similar sign. - Thank you, but I am good, I said. She looked flustered, then lowered her arm. - Well. Make sure you put it on the gate! - I will, I said. - Thank you for your concern. She turned and went away without a word. See, the register is public, and follows you wherever you go. I even moved to a quiet suburb, and found a cheap, dilapidated house at the end of a cul-de-sac, trees between me and accusing eyes. Work I could do from home. I kept to myself, and shopped far away. These days, on Halloween, my house is dark, as is my mood. Which means that I was surprised when my phone buzzed, telling me there was someone at the door. The gate cam hadn't gone off. I wondered if it was broken. The camera showed a tiny Batman, jumping up to ring the disconnected doorbell. Then three timid knocks. I went to answer the door, fully intending to shoo the tyke away. I opened the door with a frown on my brow, but before I could say anything the kid said: - Is it true that you like boys? My mouth stayed open for a few seconds. Little Batman was holding an orange plastic bucket half full with wrapped candy with one hand, and had the other hand in his groin. He looked nervous, like he had to pee. His big, round eyes glinted in the porch light. I felt my face flush, and looked up the graveled foot path to my garden gate, half expecting to see an angry crowd with pitchforks and torches. - Yes. But you shouldn't... He saw me looking towards the gate and interrupted me. - I came through the back yard. Nobody saw me. My mommy said I shouldn't go here because you touch boys. His voice was high pitched, but hoarse. It sounded like a sexy whisper to me. I shook my head to clear it from those unhealthy thoughts, swallowed, then answered. - I did, before. But I don't any more. - Why? he said, simply. - Because I went to prison for it. Grown men shouldn't touch boys. - What if the boy wants to be touched? Oh god almighty. I was now sweating, although the air was cool. But I held fast. - Even if the boy wants to be touched. - Don't you want to anymore? - I... well, it doesn't matter if I want to or not. I am never going to prison again. Now he was squirming, grabbing his crotch and looking very uncomfortable. - I really have to pee. Can I use your bathroom, please? - I don't think... But he had already skipped past me into the hallway. He spotted the door with the relief of a small boy peeing and rushed inside. Immediately he exclaimed: - Oh... - What? I said, thinking that he probably peed himself on purpose to lure me inside. - I peed my pants! Can you help me? he said, in his best baby voice. I sighed. If anyone had seen him coming inside, I was already fucked. I went into the bathroom. His black sweatpants were soaked, and he was standing in a little puddle. I started taking off my clothes. - Does that mean you're going to touch me? he said. - Yes. And much more, I said. - Yay! he said. _______ Thank you to Carl, who told me about that dreary Halloween when a fidgety little boy asked him the title question. Big hugs. Thank you also to Zach, who takes time he doesn't have to help me write gooder, and also spurred me to write this little thing when he wondered how much it would take to break his resolve. I love feedback, fantasies, experiences - which sometimes turn into stories like this. Short or long, drop me a note on mj290858@riseup.net