Date: Tue, 5 Nov 2019 17:07:14 +0000 From: Andrew Passey Subject: The Foster Boy Part 1 (Young Friends) This is a new story of mine, I'll still be updating my other ongoing ones (Things Are Going To Change and The Village) so don't worry if you like them too, you can check them out on my author page as well. I'm in a bit of a writing mode at the moment so hopefully they'll be a fair bit more new material coming out! Please do donate to Nifty, it's a great resource and relies on us to keep it going. Donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Ok on with The Foster Boy. I sat in the office, feeling miserable. It wasn't the first time I'd been there, but I did hope it might be the last. Janet was sympathetic as always when I explained my version of events. She was now on the phone to her boss trying to explain everything. "It's not his fault............. ..........I agree we shouldn't involve the police but.................... that's not fair, he's a good boy........................... well we need to send him somewhere, and after what has happened he can't go into care, it would be too risky..................Really? You sent them his photo? They still want to do it again? Even after the incident?..............................Hmmm, well if they'd been risk assessed then fine but I want this in writing from you.....................Yes I know they were but come on, if anything went wrong I'd lose my job, I want you to take responsibility for this.........................ok speak to them now, email me confirmation and I'll drive him there myself.......ok....Yes I will, goodbye." She smiled at me, "Sorry about that Matt, my boss can be a bit risk averse at times although not in your case it seems. I think we may have found a new foster home for you" she said smiling. It was ironic I guess, my name was Matt Foster. My parents had both been transferred over here with work from the US before I was born. They met here and married, and then I came along. My Mum was from Charlotte, North Carolina. My Dad from Philadelphia, he grew up an orphan, moving from children's home to children's home. He worked his arse off to make a success of himself and he did so, my Mum did the same. But once they met and got married, well her family ostracised her and never spoke to her again. Old school southern baptist racism, their white daughter marrying a black guy. I was an only child, but that was probably more by circumstance than any planning on my parents behalf. They were killed in a car crash when I was just three years old. With no family in the UK, I was suddenly under the care of the state. I'd been put in a foster family in south east London for 8 years and things were fine. Unfortunately my foster father at the time was arrested for sexual abuse, not against me I hasten to add but obviously social services pulled me and the other kids out and scattered us around the place. While I was mixed race I took after my father and was pretty black, and I did wonder if that made me harder to foster. Who wants a black 11 year old boy if they're slightly racist while people? The past 18 months had been a variety of different places, moving from family to family, a few months here, a few weeks here. By the time I was 13 i'd lost count of the number of homes I'd been into and then left. It was only a week ago that Janet thought she'd found me the perfect family, a couple in Kensington (posh!) who had a 16 year old son Chris who apparently had been getting into trouble a lot, I think they hoped having a younger brother might calm him down. He seemed nice, we went out at the weekend and he bought me a pair of trainers with his own money which I was very touched by, "Don't tell my parents and keep them hidden in the cupboard, I don't want them to think I've been spending my money on you!" He said grinning, I grinned back and thought I'd landed on my feet here. It didn't last long though, I'd only been there a few days when he came into my room after a shower, towel wrapped round him. So....I've never seen a black dick before, can I see yours?". I told him no, but politely. He dropped his towel to show a soft 4 inch dick. "I've heard black boys have big dicks, although I bet yours isn't as big as mine". He said. I didn't like this conversation, and tried to shut it down. "Of course yours is bigger, now please put it away, you're making me uncomfortable" I said. He smiled and walked over to me, "Not until you've sucked it", "Fuck off!" I said now angry. "If you show me your dick and suck mine then that'll be fine, if you don't I'll basically tell my parents you stole money off me and bought a new pair of trainers"."What?! Don't be fucking ridiculous, you bought them". "Did I? I remember you going into the shop and coming out with them, no idea where the money came from but it seems £80 is missing from my money box and I saw a pair of new trainers in your cupboard". I was really pissed off, "YOU gave me the money!" I said. He laughed, "who they going to believe? Their beloved son or some black kid they've just met, they probably think you're a thief already. They'll have the police round here before you can say anything. I wonder what the young offenders institute is like, a cute handsome boy like you? You'll have a gang of boys balls deep in you every night. Tell you what, a compromise. Get your dick out and wank me off and I MIGHT not say anything.". I was in a quandary, I did not want to do this but at the same time, he had me over a barrel. Shaking with anger I did as he said, unzipping and flopping my dick out my trousers. "Trousers and pants off please!" He said. I did as I was told, he brought out a measuring tape. He measured himself, "4 inches", and then me, "3 inches and a fair bit of hair, not bad for a 13 year old. And you are probably the most handsome cute boy I've ever seen." He stared to harden and measured again, "6inches and a smidge, now get yourself hard." I did so and he measured himself and was 4 3/4 inches. I felt conflicted, I didn't want to do this, I did feel flattered when he said I was cute, he wasn't the first to say so, I often got admiring glances by girls and the odd boy at school. But massaging of my ego should not mean I had to massage his dick! "Wank us both off at the same time". I did as I was told, hoping that would shut him up, taking him in my right hand and doing me with my left. Despite not wanting to nature took over and I could feel I would cum soon. "Oh fuck this is so hot..., oh fuck......oh..fuck,...here it comes...yeeesssssss!" He said as he shot over my hand and I did too. He cleaned us up with a towel and I started to cry gently. He looked guilty for a moment, "I'm sorry but I needed that, it was fun and don't worry, you'll get used to it. Now I've got to go to my guitar lesson but we can do it again later" he said grinning at me. He left the room and I burst into even more tears, I was really upset and felt trapped, this was going to be hell. I was still sobbing gently when the door opened and it was my new foster Mum, "I came to see how you were but I see not good, are you ok?", I shook my head, "what is it?". I didn't say anything but she looked at me intently. "It was Chris wasn't it?" I simply nodded. She looked angry and devastated, "I'm sorry, he said he'd changed but he hasn't. You can't stay here though, it's too much temptation for him" So with that there I was back in Janet's Office. The ding of an email later and she said we were all good, I had a new foster family.