Date: Sat, 7 Dec 2002 13:00:04 -0500 (EST) From: Clark Gaybull Subject: One of Many Escapades #7 AUTHOR'S NOTES - Never in my wildest dreams did I seek or expect such a reaction to my remembrance of Ted - in only a week!!! It was not my intent to solicit other opinions, or, especially, depress anybody. One of my many faults is that I say too much. And THAT was a prime example. Maybe - with maturity - will come a better concept of the proper selection of words. It's an odd combination but, my expression is of gratitude and apology. (Sorry, too, 'bout the deceptive pseudonym.) Perhaps, after the court case in January, I'll think of a way to write about how it turned out (although my father thinks that our insurance company and the other side'll reach an out-of-court settlement before then. That's probably why he says, "Mum on the relationship...") Here's another thing - I told my shrink what I've done. But I don't think she believes me. I don't have a printer to show her the proof, so I told her how to get onto this site and how to find my stories. To her I say: "Hi Dr. You-Know-Who-You-Are. The plate on my parents' car is XJ?-#80. Do you believe me now?" (I don't think she'll be a regular reader, though.) Enough with formalities...I thought that documenting my exploits with Ted would be theraputically helpful and the final chapter. But, something happened over the Thanksgiving weekend that justifies a second FINAL escapade: Someone visited me - for less than four hours, so, it won't take long to write about, or read. But, it might be interesting to know... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Labor Day wreck was widely publicized. And, although I hadn't seen him for more than two years, the tragedy became known at his current home about thirty miles away by Jimmy. (I guess he remembered favorably his night at the lake.) Good ol' mom: she must have been involved in arranging this. Just before one, the drive-up occurred. Jimmy's dad visited with me for about five minutes and with my folks for about thirty minutes. Then he said that he was gonna visit a few other people nearby, and he would be back to pick up Jimmy before five. Another fifteen minutes in our faces 'til mom and dad found other things to do and finally disappeared. From what I could see, Jimmy's major change was his height. Although a month past twelve, his voice was not noticeably deeper. Once in a while, maybe, it cracked into an octave lower. That was funny. "Yeah. My little brother gets a lots of clothes that are too small for me." I yelled to my folks that we were gonna wheel to my room. (I use a motorized wheelchair to tool around the house.) "Not bad." Jimmy spoke approvingly about the MSNTV and video-game boxes atop the large set on the wall above the foot of my bed. "Separate line, too, so my access doesn't tie up their 'phone. You can crank up the games. But, since the wreck, I can't do 'em too good. Not much of a problem with the 'net, though. And thank God for remotes." "What's all wrong?" "What isn't? Broken arm; broken leg; cracked wrist; fucked up insides. Two operations. Best friend dead. HIS parents are takin' this to court. You should have seen me two months ago." "Do you shit like before?" "Yeah. But it hurt at first." Then I explained about the bedpan in the hospital. And the elevated toilet seat and the recently-installed grab bars at home. "Yuck. And how 'bout the things your pecker does?" "OK there, too." "How d'ya beat off?" (It seems weird to write the words of this conversation. But this is how it went.) "I DON'T beat off! I CAN'T. Haven't for almost THREE months," nodding to the casts on both arms. "Ooooo...that must bite." "It was really embarrassing in the hospital when a nurse'd come in and I'd have a hard-on. You'd think there'd be some kind of medicine for that so it wouldn't happen. Like Viagra in reverse. It's kinda funny, though - now that I look back on it." "Aren't you worried you're gonna clog up?" "I pee through the same hole." "I got an idea." He closed the door and pushed to lock it. "Wanna see if anything UNDER my clothes got any bigger?" He undid the buttons on his flannel shirt in a manner that indicated that a striptease was beginning. "I don't NEED this," I said, trying to redistribute things. He wore no undershirt and threw his top to the corner of my room. He raised his arms above his head, showing me his still-hairless pits; took small steps as he turned 360-degrees; and swivelled his hips. "See anything different?" I moved my head repeatedly from left to right as much to express my wonderment as to indicate "No." Next he began unfastening his jeans. He held them up but walked backward, bent at the waist, so that his denimed butt was approaching me. He quickly stood up and let go of his pants. They slid down his legs; he swung to face me; and the tented effect of his jockeys came into view. So what if it might spoil the moment. "Wait a minute." Jimmy plopped his rump onto my bed; pulled off his Lees; and they made the pile in the corner bigger. Resuming standing, he's now wearing only his yellow-colored briefs and his black Addidas - again, arms toward the ceiling and twirling more. No embarrassment about his erection. Hips gyrating. Two additional circles, then - whoosh - suddenly, down go the underpants; straight stands the dancer; and straight stands his body-part. So he's spun all around. But still no changes were evident to me - just a pubeless little form, stiffie being shook enticingly in front of me, wagging up and down, side to side. Seeing my bewilderment he said, "Don'tcha see? It's two inches longer!" Yeah. Right! Like I REALLY remembered how long his dick was two years ago. "And look at this," he boasted. "I've got cum," prompting him to touch his index finger to the tip of his penis and pull his hand away. Sure enough - a string of cock-drool stretched between the two points. "Wanna see me cum?" "I don't NEED this," I repeated. "Aw...you wanna cum, too, don'tcha?" (Spoken with mock baby-talk.) My prong had already lengthened so that it was stickng beyond the cut off left leg of my old sweats. (My penchant for keeping old clothes now made sense even to my mom, when so much alteration became necessary to accomodate my casts.) "Can ya get on the bed?" "How do you think I sleep?" "In the chair, maybe. Here. Let me help you." (There goes that artificial baby-talk again.) As I half-heartedly stood up on the leg that worked, he yanked my make-shift shorts down, leaving me clad only in my tank-type undershirt, three casts and slippers. "I suppose you want me to roll onto the bed?" "Whatever. Do you want the remote or keyboard?" "No. I'm sure I'll be uncomfortable no matter what," I bluffed. (I'm on my bed; on my back; casts on both arms and one leg; stiffened phallus hugging my belly.) "Now THIS is what those nurses SHOULD have done. Let me know if any of this hurts." Jimmy joined me on my bed, kneelng between my legs, facing me. Downward he bent. Upward he slid my undershirt - 'til my boobs were exposed. He covered my left nipple with his spit; then the right. Were they pert because of the evaporation? I think not. While they were still wet, Jimmy pinched each, as if to maintain their stimulatin. I...don't...NEED...this," I moaned meekly. What a turn-on, as he slobbered down my chest to my belly-button. The thin, blond hairs below my belt-line served to restore his saliva. It was a relief when I felt his mouth enclose my dick. Down and up. Down and up. Then with his hand: down and up; down and up. I'm afraid I wasn't much help, with the weight and awkwardness of my casts. I could only lay there and take it. But I far from regard it as a forced-feeding. Jimmy asked, "Do you mind if I try to get something out of this? Just tell me if I hurt anything." He did a "180" and fell foreward. Pushing his upper half up, he simultaneously extended his legs toward my shoulders. Then he began to slide into the sixty-nine position: He was gonna try to suck me off while presenting his little weener to me. The action on my tool previously was quite intense. Now, there was an equally-intense sensation, as first our dicks touched; then he slid it gingerly up my scarred chest. Coupled with the friction at my own pleasure-point, I wondered if I'd last 'til our mouths were in place. I hadn't felt the rush of an orgasm, but, an unmistakable wetness was increasing between us as we sought our positions. Our height difference came into play when Jimmy stopped with his package not even parallel with my shoulders. "I can't reach it," I declared. More sliding. "Now I can." But just barely: with MY chin down and HIS chin up, we were ready to go. I think it took longer to line up than to spout. I hadn't had relief in more than two months. And Jimmy...he was only twelve, so, I suppose he could always go quickly. He sure must have learned a lot that night at the lake. Or, more likely, that just set him in motion over the following two years. I think I was flowing pretty freely when he resumed sucking. Jimmy didn't buck his hips right away. But when he started, it was difficult for me to keep his smallness in my mouth. If I stopped, his release might be delayed. But what's the point? I could feel my own explosion approaching. So, I sucked harder. It was like...who can get the other off first. I never could have moved my ass as fast as he did when he blew. The groans which accompanied his climax were definitely on a lower-octave scale. But it sounded cute anyway. One, two, three, four jets blasted into my mouth. At about the same time, I worried that I might have shot his head off - so strong were my gushers. He couldn't slurp it all. His cough propelled it onto my sparse bush. And, as I continued to pulse, he gave up trying to swallow and simply let it drip from his mouth, back down onto my member. "That was great!" he gurgled. "Damn straight. Did you learn that in just one night at the lake?" "No. But I remembered what I saw there. And I made new friends real fast after we moved." It's a good thing that there was more than an hour 'til his pick up: It took most of that time to clean up after our escapade. Jimmy's departure occurred with our mutual, simultaneous declarations: "I can't wait 'til the next holiday!"