My heart is pounding. Carl and Richard are about to be alone for the first time. What is in store for our two young Romeos? Please place 25 cents into the slot to start this fantasy. Thank you. Our story continues through the eyes and heart of our fair Richard...

Chapter 6

Alone At Last

(A brief continuation of chapter 5) "We can go inside now Richard" I whisper. "And I'll give you some candy, little boy." I reach out my hand to him and just wait for a response. It's pretty quick in coming. He just grins at me and says...

"I'm not holding hands with you on the sidewalk you little perv. You'll have to get me in the house to do that nasty stuff"!

"Woo...woo" I yelled as I steamed over to my book bag. I scooped it up and made a dash for the back door. I'm standing there with the screen door open, waiting for my hunky stalker to slink into my house. I wonder if he can see my tail wagging?


Richard continues...

`Wow...look at that little guy shag butt up to the porch. He's fishing something out of his t-shirt. Oh, a key on a string around his neck. Must be his house key. That's so cute, my little latch key kid. Well, he has the back door open and he is just standing there, grinning. Hm, I'm not sure, but it looks like he has a hard on!'

"Now Carl" I ask him, "you're sure it's safe for me to go through that door? You don't have any evil plans in store for me when you get me alone do you" I ask facetiously.

"Moi?" He responded, with an evil grin, wagging his eyebrows.

"Now Richard, how could you even suspect a boy with this innocent face?" and he poked his index fingers into his cheeks to make dimples. I glanced down at his trousers. Yep, he was tented.

"Yeah, right Carl. Put those fingers up to your forehead to make devil horns and they would look more appropriate" I told him with a chuckle.

" in honk, honk" and he slaps my butt as I step over the threshold into his kitchen. He followed behind me and closed the door.

The first thing I became aware of, as I walked in, was a feeling (or a sense) of this house. Although the Fullers had only been here for about a week, there were lots of little homey touches. Someone had worked hard to make a home out of this place. Everything was spotless. There were wall decorations, potted plants on the overhead cabinets and scatter rugs on the linoleum. The house seemed to radiate a sense of well being. I felt comfortable here.

"Kick off your shoes Richard" I was told, as the little rug rat set his shoes by the back door.

"Just because I like you doesn't mean my Mom won't prepare you for our dinner If you track up her floors".

"Oh, no Carl! Don't tell me. You're a family of trolls that lay in wait for the innocent and boil them for supper?"

"Yep" he says, grinning widely, "but while Mommy troll is away then baby troll gets to play with his food...hehehe".

I go toe-against-heel to slip my own shoes off, then I slide them next to Carl's with my foot.

"Well come on" he says as he grabs my hand.

"I will give you the grand tour."

He tugs me to the opposite end of the kitchen.

"Ta da" he says, sweeping his free arm towards an old fashioned, chrome dinette set in the kitchen alcove. The naugahyde backs and seats of the chairs looked reupholstered. Table and chairs are ancient but obviously taken care of. Curtained windows on two sides gave the nook a bright and airy feeling.

"This..." Carl said, rubbing his hands together, "is where the troll family consumes their victims" which he follows with an evil laugh.

"Except for evil, baby troll..." he continues, "who does his consummating up in his bedroom" he giggles.

Is consummating a word I wonder? I decide not to press the point.

"So are there other sibling trolls to fight over the victims?"

"Nope, only the baby troll" he retorts.

"What about a Daddy troll?"

"Well, Mommy and Daddy troll are divorced, that's kinda why we moved to Idaho." Hmm, he said this without losing his smile so I figured this wasn't a real sore spot with him. Or at least he didn't let on. I decided not to press that issue either.

"OK, baby troll. Show me the rest of the joint."

"Yeth mathter." He hunches over and does his Igor imitation, grasps my hand again and tugs me towards the living room. The furniture in here is clearly old but it's also clean and cared for. It is apparent that this is not a wealthy home. But, doilies and knick knacks and pictures on the walls seem to be saying - this is home. Even the small TV sitting on its stand had seen better days. But it had been polished to a gleam. Everything I'd seen told me that Carl was lacking in material stuff, but this was a family that knew how to make do. The home showed pride and love. It gave me a good feeling. And I realized I liked Mrs. Fuller even though I had yet to meet her. We both had something in common. We both wanted, more than anything, to take wonderful care of this little guy standing next to me...who is trying so hard to maintain an Igor smirk on his face.

"This..." he says, while again making the grand sweep with his free arm, "is where the trolls broil their minds with the flickering light tube" and he points to the TV. "And," he continues, "where Mommy troll casts a sleeping spell on baby troll and orders his butt off to his bedroom." "Evil, evil Mommy Troll".

I just stood there taking him in, grinning. This guy is just pure entertainment. Hell, if I lived here you could chuck the TV out the window, stand Carl in the corner and he would give ample entertainment.

Carl noticed my quiet demeanor and the soft smile on my face. He unscrunched himself from his Igor stance and stood up, facing me - matching me smile for smile. Then he walked up to me, placed his cheek against my chest and wrapped his arms around my back.

"Welcome to my house, Richard. You're the one thing this place has been lacking". His arms pulled me in tight to his body and my arms wrapped themselves around his neck and shoulders. I squeezed him closely, ran my fingers up into that brown mop of hair, then I laid my cheek on top of that cute, little cowlick.

We stood there, hugging, silently for a few moments. Then, the oddest thing happened. We both started sobbing again just like we were when we were standing at the flagpole. I can't explain it. I doubt that he could either. It wasn't unhappiness. This was definitely not a sad moment. On the contrary, while my chest was heaving in sobs, my heart was singing and soaring. But yet the tears came. They came and came. Neither of us tried to hold back. Some kind of a dam had burst and there was no little Dutch boy to stick his finger in the crack. And these weren't silent sobs, either. They were vocal and loud. Our bodies were shaking against one another.

"Oh shit Carl." I said, trying to speak coherently, "You're what has been missing from my life too". He just nodded his head against my chest and kept on sobbing.

He strangled out some words..."Do you f-feel happy Richard?"

"Yeah bud I'm really happy" I choke back at him.

"Me too. So what the hell are we crying about?"

"I don't know, but if feels good doesn't it?"

After a minute he nods his head. Yes, it felt damn good. I bet we stood there, in that embrace, for a good 5 minutes. Me, running fingers through his hair, toying with his ear. Carl, rubbing small circles on my back, giving me little squeezes with his hand. Slowly, eventually, our sobs dried up, but we still clung to one another. I found myself rocking him back and forth. The movement somehow soothing to the both of us.

Carl lifted his cheek from my chest and replaced it with his chin. Now he was looking up into my smeary face. Neither of us was embarrassed about our tears. They seemed to belong there somehow. I put my hands to the sides of his head and pushed him back just far enough to take in his whole face. There, in my hands, was the summary of all good things to me. He was truth , beauty and innocence. Trite words, I know. But sometimes words can't do justice to the things you feel. Those tender brown eyes, those sweet beauty spots sprinkling his nose, those tears streaming down his cheeks, then that small, round chin. Slowly that tender mouth curved up into a gentle smile. His brown irises took up a gleam. I felt like a feral animal caught up in the glare of headlights. I was captured... entranced. All I could do was stare back.

Carl slowly raised up on tip-toes, his lips came against mine in their first, sweet, awkward embrace. This was not some battle of the tongues. This kiss was as tender and as soothing as the love we felt for one another. He kissed me as sweetly and gently as you would kiss the forehead of a puppy or a baby. I felt my tears renewing themselves and my lips quivering against him. He pulled back, slightly.

"It's alright Richard. I love you, and it's alright."

I knew that. I knew that! The tenderness of his kiss told me that. That is what was causing this surge of emotion to sweep through me. My heart was aching for him as we stood, forehead to forehead. I nodded my response to his declaration. Then our lips pressed together again in a slightly tighter embrace.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I am no Casanova. The only practice I'd had in kissing techniques were on the back of my hand, in my own little fantasy world. And I'm not going to tell you what my other hand was doing at the time. And I'm sure Carl's kisses were limited to his Mom and his aunts - bleah. But we didn't seem to require an instruction manual and a set of blueprints. Instinct took over where experience was lacking. Some primal set of instructions written on our psyches were more than sufficient. I would pinch his lips between my own, moving from corner to corner of his mouth. His mouth opened slightly and I gently squeezed his lower lip with my own. Drawing it into my mouth, I swirled this sweet bit of flesh between my own lips. Then I stroked it gently with the tip of my tongue. It was Carl's turn to shudder now. It was nearly a spasm. I heard and felt him take a sharp intake of breath. His exhale was ragged, audible.

He pulled his face away and stepped back a bit. We just stood there, staring, one to the other. Somehow our hands had found and clasped each other's. We had drained ourselves of years of pent up emotions. Our tears had washed away every aching night we had spent in our beds alone. Everything was finally right. Things were as they should be. There was only one thing left to do...

"Carl?" I asked, maintaining my serious expression, "do you think it is important to keep your word?"

His eyebrows dipped a bit - a quizzical look, reacting to my question. Perhaps he was wondering if he had failed to keep his word to me.

"Well, I guess...I mean, yeah...sure it is." "Why?" he asked.

Instead of answering, I tried to copy his Igor look onto my own face. Then I said...

"Because I promised someone I was going to spank... his... butt!"

Carl's eyebrows shot up and then he squealed and tried to twist away from me. But, I held firm to his one hand and spun him around, forcing him onto the floor - belly down. Then I squatted down and sat on his thighs, a good striking distance for his bum. Carl's laugh was like a squeak and he twisted his upper torso around so he could look at me. He was covering his most exposed butt cheek with one hand.

"Now now Richard" he says, "trolls can exact revenge you know!"

"Prepare yourself, you nasty little troll." I said, "You are going to pay for teasing me on the sidewalk. You - are - going - to - Pay," punctuating each word with a finger tap to his ribs.

"Screech, screech, screech." He pulled his hand from his butt to protect his ticklish sides and rolled flat on his belly. I kept poking with one hand and used the other to swat his butt cheeks - gently of course, just making a wacking sound against the seat of his trousers.

"All right Richard...uncle...Uncle!" he said, more from the tickling than the swatting.

I fell forward on top of him, laughing. We both were laughing as hard as we had been crying just minutes before. Finally I rolled off him, onto my side. He rolled to look at me. I put my hand on his shoulder and he copied me. We lay there until the laughter subsided to giggles and the giggles faded to smiles and the smiles - well, the smiles lingered.

"So, Carl, do you plan to show me your bedroom sometime during this lifetime or what? I don't think your Mom is going to stay away forever you know."

"Oh shit" he says, glancing up to the clock above the TV set.

"Oh man, we got about 20 minutes is all before she gets home." Then he giggles.

"I guess you're going to have to show me your blushing butt another time Richard." This caused me to blush.

"Damn," he says, " Missed my chance. I should have pulled down your pants." I blushed again, deeper.

"Oh man, I give up. Come on Richard." He stands and offers me his hand. I let him help me to my feet.

"I'm going to grab us a couple of Pepsis and then I will show you the `boudoir', which is French for the `butt showing room'. Giggle, snort.

Carl ran to the fridge, sliding the last few feet in his stocking feet. He grabbed two Pepsis and skipped back to the stairway.

"Follow me mon ami" And he proceeded up the stairs and headed into an open door. Carl stood to the side to allow me to enter and handed me a soda as I walked past.

What I saw was a typical boy's room. A single bed in a corner with a nightstand next to it. A chest of drawers and a small student desk. There was an ancient, e-machine computer sitting on the desk. The printer, sitting on the floor, had seen better days. On the wall, over the bed, was a poster with a picture of a frog on a lily pad. The caption beneath it said "I'm so happy here I could just shit!" I chuckled at that. The opposite wall, above the computer, had a poster of Arnold Schwartzenager - with his naked, muscled chest showing.

"So, leetle boy. You iss into ze muscley men eh?" I teased him.

"What do you think, hunky?" And he patted me on the tit. I blushed once again.

"Damn it," he said, "don't do that again unless your pants are down." I really felt my blush now.

"Har, har, har. Richard, you just slay me! I'm going to stand you in an intersection, insult you, and watch you imitate a stop light."

"Oh yeah?" I quipped back at him. "How about if I give you a glove and a whistle and you can do your Michael Jackson, traffic-cop routine?"

That's all it took to get my little Carl going. He was grabbing his crotch, twirling around and waving imaginary cars down the road. He was looking pretty good actually. But hell, he could stand in one spot and look pretty good. Dancing around he looked excellent. Nasty little troll was making my pants tent out. It didn't take him long to notice his effect on me either. He did this moon-walk shuffle towards me, stopped, grabbed his crotch and said...

"Hey big boy. Happy to see me?"

Even before I had the chance to blush again we heard a noise down stairs. It was the sound of a door opening. Then a ladies voice announced...

"Carl... I'm home sweetie."


Darn, `spankus interuptus'. Leave it to a woman to spoil the moment. Talk about bringing a jar of peanut butter to the party! Oh well, the boys have only known each other for four hours. How far did you think they were going to get anyway? Oh you did huh? Shame on you. Now go wash your mouth out with a bar of soap. Well, I guess I'm going to have to write another damn chapter!

Looking for your comments or criticism. If you're going to criticize, put `fuck you' in the subject line so I can delete it without opening it. Flamers will be extinguished, ass kissers will be adored. I am Paul at

Copyright January 2007. All rights retained. No duplication without author's permission. No shoes, no shirt - no service. (Unless you're really cute.) Oh yeah, all the other usual disclaimers apply as well.