Goodnight, John Boy


This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content involving persons under the age of consent which may be inappropriate for you or illegal where you live. I do not condone the actions or choices of the fictional characters contained within this story.
  1. If you are under legal age to view this material where you live, please go no further.  What follows could really screw you up.  Read something wholesome, like the Bible.  May I recommend Gen. 19:32 or perhaps 22:2?
  2. If you are offended by this type of material, please speak with a mental health professional as soon possible-- they may be able to explain how you found yourself on this page.
  3. If the subject is illegal where you live, your government probably already knows you're here.  I promise this story is not be worth going to prison, unless you like being plowed by violent, diseased, 'heterosexual' men.  Come to think of it, I think I recall reading something like that here on Nifty...
This story is probably technically copyrighted, but I reserve no rights.  Use as you see fit.

Other stories on Nifty  by Mark Adams:
  1.     Temptation of Adam - My first attempt at publishing a short story on Nifty.
  2.     Playground of My Heart - A very brief memoir of a gay youth.

Please support the Nifty Archive.

Goodnight, John Boy - Chapter 1

My wife and her best friend, Angie, were going out for a girls' night out, and I was at home watching my son, Brandon, and Angie's kids, Jackie and John.  Jackie was a bratty little 10 year old, but she was a cute little blonde, and she knew it, and poor little nine year old Brandon was caught in her web.  I suppose that's one of the downsides to being a healthy, budding heterosexual.  I, however, am immune to the wily ways of the opposite sex.  Know why?  Go on, just guess...

Brandon and Jackie were lying on the floor in front of the television, playing video games, the only light in the room from the television.  They always argued when they played, and I actually found it amusing.  Invariably, Jackie cheated her ass off.  She'd reset the game in the middle if she wasn't winning or if Brandon was doing well.  She'd unplug his controller. Brandon, like any 9 year old, would freak out, and try to get me involved.  "Sorry, buddy," I'd tell him.  "You don't have to play, you know..."  Brandon would sulk, but keep at it. 

John, on the other hand, never played video games that I ever saw.  He was good at everything else he did, it seemed, so I have to assume he truly didn't care for the games.  He was one of those 'quiet' boys.  You know, the kind that draw you in with their few, carefully chosen words.  John would speak so quietly, I almost always had to stop whatever I was doing and move closer to him just to hear what he was saying.

John was sitting on the couch and I was sitting on the other end.  I glanced sideways at him, just checking on him.  And checking him out, I guess. He's an attractive boy and, though he's not the most beautiful boy in the world, he's sure easy on the eyes.  A bit on the small side as far as 12 year olds go, and thin.  But I like thinner boys.  And small boys.  He had lovely, large blue eyes, with a hint of gray, and he had a smattering of freckles across his small, slightly upturned nose.  Not too many, but enough that they looked, well... sexy.  He had full lips, and he had the habit of licking them.  Lucky boy, I sometimes wished I could lick them myself.

I noticed movement on the other end of the couch and, as I glanced over, I saw he was sitting there, one leg still underneath him, but now he had propped his right leg up and his arm was wrapped around it, holding it in place.  He'd already gotten ready for bed since the ladies weren't due back until the early hours of the morning, so he was just wearing his pajama shirt and light blue shorts.  And, as fate would have it, the thin material of his shorts were gathered in such a way that, even in the dim light of the living room, I could see straight up the leg of his pajama shorts-- all the way up to the point where I could see the flesh of his upper thigh and the edge of the elastic of his white briefs, which seemed to glow in the light from the TV.  He was in just the right position that his underwear were pulled slightly away from his thigh, and I thought I could see a peek of flesh, most likely his scrotum.  I couldn't be sure, but quiet boy had my full attention now.

I'd known John since he was about 4 years old, so I'd seen him in various states of undress many times over the past 8 years and, throughout the years, I'd often gotten sneak views up the leg of his shorts, or of the waistband of his underwear.  I'd never seen him fully naked, though I'd often been treated to him in just his underwear while at my home or, more often, his own.  And I had seen him progress from cartoon underwear to white briefs, and now he was in a boxer phase.  I liked them all, of course, but I was intrigued a little that he was wearing his white briefs this evening.  Perhaps he had gotten some new ones or maybe he was wearing an old pair.  I'd always found him alluring but, as always, I was 'content' to remain a voyeur.  I'd never put either of us in any compromising position.  He had always been a fairly affectionate boy, and he was still young enough that he often sat on my lap, despite his age.  But I'd never done anything scandalous.

I looked back toward the television, pretending to watch the game, but I adjusted my position slightly on the couch and made full use of my superhuman peripheral vision, a superpower, I admit, used more for evil than the good of mankind. Even so, I kept glancing back at him from time to time (ok, all the time) and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for him to move.  You know how it is... he could move and expose more of his goodies or end the show.  I enjoyed the waiting, and watching.  My own penis was nearly fully erect at this point, but there was no way anyone could see it with the way I was seated.  My legs were folded under me and I was leaning into the arm of the couch on my right side.

While he didn't adjust his position, John's hand began gently rubbing the underside of his thigh, and I longed to do the same for him.  Over the next couple of minutes or so, I noticed his fingertips drifted down further, down to the leg band of his briefs, and his middle finger gently rubbed along the edge of the leg band and the bit of exposed skin before returning back up the course of his naked thigh.  I noticed in the dim light of the living room that I could see a hint of peach fuzz along the lower part of his shins, but nowhere else. 

The next time his hand trailed down toward his shorts, it lingered there a few seconds before repeating his previous rub across the cotton material. But this time, his hand remained in that position.  His finger rubbed along the crevice between his underwear and his leg, and I nearly fainted.  He was touching himself not 3 feet away from me.  Unintentionally, I inhaled sharply as he ran his finger across the smooth skin there, slightly pushing the leg band further from his body, and I looked at him directly.  With his hand where it was, I still couldn't see anything, but I knew I would if his hand moved back up.  And I willed him to move his hand.

At that point, John turned his eyes away from the television and they flashed over to me, perhaps realizing he was being watched.  I returned my stare to the video game, but could still see him looking at me for a moment before his eyes returned to the television.  His tongue licked at his upper lip before returning his gaze to the game.  But he didn't adjust his position, or close his legs.  When his hand glided back up his thigh, he rested his hand on his knee, and... my eyes eased back toward him, slower this time.  I didn't want him to move.

There, beside me, I could see the leg of John's underwear was pulled slightly away from his thigh and I could see perhaps half of one of John's testicles suspended in its hairless sac.  I could see, too, the crease of his ass where it met his thigh.  By this point, my cock was straining in my boxers and sweat pants, begging for release.  I pressed it down further and held it between my thighs, and I could feel a drop of precum against my own thigh.  Had he left his nut hanging there for me to see?  Was it an accident?

A few short minutes later, his left hand went to his lap, and just held it there.  I shifted slightly to ensure the best possible viewing angle.  After what seemed like an eternity, he began fingering the hem of his pajama shorts.  He gently pulled them up enough that I could now see a little more of his underwear, and I could see a lovely lump where his penis was outlined in cotton.  His index finger pushed on the mass, causing it to shift slightly... toward the leg band.  Ever so slightly, and slowly, he seemed to be massaging his cocklet toward the edge.  I now felt certain he was doing this intentionally, although he kept his view squarely on the television.  And, even though this was clearly intentional, what were his intentions?

I was stuck.  There wasn't much, really, that I could do.  If I scooted over, I risked not only shattering his resolve and ending the show prematurely but also scaring him.  And I didn't want either of those outcomes.

"Dad!" Brandon shrieked. 

"Huh?" I answered, slightly distracted and confused.  So closely had I been focusing on John and his tender nugget, I'd nearly forgotten he and Jackie were even in the room.  As I turned my head toward Brandon, I saw John pull his legs back together, his hand brushing the back part of his shorts to be certain everything was covered.  Damn!

"Dad," Brandon said again as he stomped over to the couch, a pout on his face. I made sure that I, too, was presentable, and placed my hands in my lap.  "Jackie's cheating again!"

"Ok," I said sternly.  "I've about had it with both of you."  Jackie didn't even bother turning away from the screen.  "If I hear one more..."

"But, DAD," he said, raising his voice.  "She's CHEATING."  His arms crossed his chest and he stuck his head forward as if to accentuate the obvious injustice of it. 

"Did you just interrupt me?" I asked him, looking at him as if I were shocked.  He looked down, and he knew what was coming.  From the corner of my eye, I could see John watching me.  "Video games are... games," I said brilliantly.  "Games are supposed to be..." I said, leading him to answer.

"They're supposed to be fun," Brandon said, accentuating the word 'fun' slightly.  He'd heard this one before, of course, many times. 

"That's right," I told him.  "And when you get upset, then..."

"Then it's no longer fun," he responded correctly.  "But," he continued, "games also have rules.  And breaking the rules makes a fun game..."  He was leading me this time, and I had to laugh inside.

"Not fun," I answered.  He smiled as if he'd just won the debate.  "Which means it's no longer a game.  And you know what that means..."  Jackie was playing the game frantically now, since she also knew what was coming.

"But I didn't do anything wrong," Brandon whined. 

"Maybe not," I said, "but you two either need to play nicely, or put the game up."  Brandon's eyes were wide, as if terrified at the threat I had to level nearly every day.  I knew Jackie was cheating, and I knew nothing I said was going to change that.  She wasn't my kid. 

Brandon turned and huffed back to where he had been lying on his stomach, and plopped down on his ass, his arms still crossed in indignation.  I looked over toward John and saw a tiny smile at the edges of his pouty lips.  He, of course, had nothing to add.  I figured John's show was over and, now that my erection had subsided, I adjusted my sweat pants, stood and got up and went to the kitchen to get a drink.  When I returned to the living room, I noticed John had moved to the center cushion of the couch.  Curiouser and curiouser...

I returned to where I had been sitting earlier, setting my drink on the side table, and John just looked over at me briefly.  "Do you want a turn?" I asked him, easing into the cushion, knowing he wouldn't want to play, but feeling it my responsibility to be a good host.

He shook his head side to side to tell me he did not.  "I'm going to bed in a few minutes," he said softly, nearly setting a record for the number of words used by him in a single sentence.

He pulled his legs up onto the couch, and our legs touched.  Now, ordinarily this wouldn't mean anything.  But I was a still a little worked up from the scene earlier on this very couch.  In all the time I'd known him, I had lusted after him from afar.  But something felt, well... different tonight.  After a minute or two, he scooted over and slid into my lap effortlessly.  "Good boy,"  I thought.  "He knows he's driving."  He squirmed into me, making himself (and myself) comfortable, and I felt my penis almost immediately fill out a bit.  He leaned back into me, and I looked down over his shoulder to his lap.  As is often the case, I couldn't really tell if the fabric was pressed out on its own or if boy parts were helping out a bit.

He shifted, lifting his legs a bit and turning them both to his right, and I could clearly see the line of his underpants through his flimsy shorts, making its way from low on his hip to somewhere near his firm butt cheeks.  I couldn't resist placing my left hand on his hip, and I let my fingers extend across his hip to where the tips of my fingers were resting on the line of his underwear.  He leaned further to his right, pushing his rump a bit further into my fingers and pulling the fabric of his pajama bottoms tighter across his seat.  I briefly let my fingers glide very gently along the line of his leg band through the jammies, seeing if there would be some reaction, positive or negative.  He placed his left hand atop mine, and I still wasn't quite sure how to read him.  To further gauge his comfort, I ran my fingers along the same path while his hand was on mine.  His pinky finger rubbed furtively across the back of my hand.  Hmm...

By this point, my cock was about half erect, and I thought he might be able to feel it, but perhaps not.  I moved my hand further down his thigh, just past the hem of his shorts and rubbed it with just my thumb.  His hand moved to my face, and rubbed the stubble on my cheek before placing it back in his lap.  I slowly moved my thumb back up a bit, 'accidentally' lifting the edge of his shorts with my thumb and, pushing it slightly up his thigh.  It was as smooth as a freshly shaved lady's leg, soft and silky, yet rock hard beneath.  I slid my hand up his thigh a little more, pulling the bottom edge of his shorts up along with it until my thumb touched the leg of his briefs. By now, I was fully erect, and there was no way he couldn't feel my cock now, lifting up into the space between his right thigh and his stomach.  And still he did nothing.

The kids on the floor in front of us were so intent on their game that they had not turned around, and it occurred to me that I was molesting my wife's best friend's 12 year old boy not ten feet away from my son.  But  my libido was now more in control than my rational mind, and I toyed with the edge of his underwear for a few minutes before I slipped my index and middle finger just under the edge of his underwear, running them along his hip.  I drew my fingers a bit higher still on his thigh, pulling his underwear up an inch or so, and then slid my hand down his hip, resting my hand on the curve of his tight bottom.

John shifted his body to the left, back into a more normal sitting position without adjusting his underwear.  My erection was pressed into an awkward position, resting along his butt and right hip as he leaned back onto my chest.  I didn't try to adjust myself because below me, looking down over his shoulder to his lap, I saw his little blue shorts tented with an obvious erection and he was making no attempt to cover it up.  He lifted the bottom edge of his shirt a bit, just above his belly button, exposing his tight little belly.  He tilted his head and looked up to my face, a nervous smile on his face, and then looked back toward the TV.

I wrapped my arms around him, placing them on his thighs, putting my fingers just under the shorts, and I saw his shorts twitch from beneath.  I slid my fingers up further until I was touching the outside of his briefs.  The soft cotton felt coarse next to his skin, but as I traced the fabric of his fly over his rigid shaft with my fingers, it felt like heaven to me.  I just left my hands where they were for a bit, simply admiring how erotic it looked with my my hands inside his shorts, his shaft poking up the shorts between them.

My fingers resumed their discovery, and my right finger snaked into the little fly that was stretched by his pole, and I felt his silky smooth sac, just below his penis, for the first time.  He shuddered and I saw his penis flex in his shorts, with mine flexing along his back in time with his.  He moved his arms up behind him, and he laced his hands behind my neck.  As I looked toward his face, I saw his eyes were closed, and his lashes were fluttering, his face peaceful.  I double-checked that the kids were still wrapped up in their game before pulling his fly forward and to the left with one hand, while pulling his penis through the fly.  The tent in his lap was now even more pronounced, and I could feel my pulse in my ears, in my cock, and in my chest.  He sighed quietly.

I ran my finger up his shaft, which appeared to be just a little over three inches, and I felt his firm, but spongy head.  I ran my index finger across the tip of his penis and I felt a slickness there, surprising me slightly for some reason.  But I was delighted as well.  As I ran my finger and thumb together, I could feel the slippery substance and I extracted my hand from his shorts, bringing it up to my mouth and sneakily tasting his essence.  This boy was divine.  I had often read that a boy's young semen tasted sweet, and I found that to be entirely true. 

I returned my hand to his lap, and slowly lifted the leg of his pajama bottoms out of the way and I beheld the most strikingly beautiful penis my eyes have ever seen.  I would guess he was right at three inches and about as thick as my little finger.  His scrotum was so small and tight, I could barely see it from my angle.  He appeared to be uncut, his skin having pulled back during my ministrations, and his knob had a slightly bluish hue, coated in a generous portion of precocious precum, shining in the somewhat dim light of the television's glare.  At some point, he had opened his eyes again, and I could see him staring quizzically at his exposed phallus, as if it belonged to someone else.  I placed my thumb and first three fingers delicately on his shaft, pulling up slightly to bring his foreskin over his head.  I marveled at the beauty of his hood as it tapered past his glans, the skin gathered up together at the tip.  His erection was firm, and his foreskin somewhat tight, outlining perfectly his precious knob.

I leaned my face toward his, and whispered into his ear, "Do you want me to tuck you in?"  He nodded his head against my chest, and I stood, not bothering to tuck him back into his shorts.  I adjusted my crotch through my sweats, and he watched as I did so, before I took his hand and led him down the hall to the guest bedroom, his willy wiggling in front of him from under the leg of his shorts.

We entered the guest room, where the kids stayed when they spent the night, which was fairly often since their parents were divorced and their mother often needed a place to stash the kids while she sought Dad #2. They each had  a bed and a dresser with a few changes of clothes.  I followed John into the room, closing and locking the door behind me.  There was enough light from the moon through the windows (and the night light in the room) that I didn't bother turning on a lamp.  I sat on John's bed, and he was standing before me, his pricklet still poking out from under the shorts, though mostly covered now.  His hood still covered his head, and I found it just as sweet as can be.

I placed my hands on each of his hips, and gently pulled him toward me.  I had no way of knowing what was on his mind, but the erection at least gave a clue.  I slipped off the bed to my knees, and I slowly peeled his shorts and underwear down off his hips and past his peter.  I loved how his penis popped up when his clothing got to his thighs, and his tool was sticking straight up, nearly touching his belly.  He had a light blue vein along his abdomen, and while he didn't have a 'six-pack' he did have a very firm, very flat stomach-- I could almost wrap my hands around his waist, or so it appeared.  His tiny testes were the size of grapes and were pulled up tightly to his body in their wrinkled bag.

I placed my hands back on his hips, my fingers reaching onto his cheeks, leaving his shorts and underwear suspended on his thighs.  "May I?" I asked, leaving the question hanging intentionally as I nodded toward his penis.  He nodded his head, and that told me he knew, at least to some degree, what we were about to do. 

"Show me yours," he whispered and, as usual, his soft voice caught me by surprise.  I hadn't expected that, remembering what a selfish lover I was when I was younger.  I raised my eyebrows, and he nodded once in reply.  I stood before John, and his eyes grew large as he gawked at my stretched sweats.  Before I could slip down my pants, he reached his hands out, a bit more assertively than I would have expected, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband.  He looked up to me with doe eyes, shining even in the low light of the room, and I nodded for him to continue.

He returned his gaze to my swollen pants and brought his thumbs downward, pulling my sweat pants and boxers toward the floor and shifting my aching cock off to the right along my hip.  He stopped as my bush appeared above the waist of my pants, and his right hand moved over to it, running his fingers through my hair admiringly, pulling it slightly.  I saw his tongue run along his top lip as he watched his hand run through my pubes.  He adjusted his hand and very gently felt the coarse hair between his thumb and fingers for  a moment before returning his hand to the waist band.  He continued pulling down my pants and paused only a second or two as the head of my dick revealed itself above the pants, sticky with my precum.  He pulled my sweats and underwear down to the point where my dick flopped forward to a 45 degree angle and my balls were swinging freely.

He broke contact then and quickly pushed his own shorts and underwear the rest of the way down his legs to his ankles.  In one fluid motion he took a step forward, stepping out of his shorts, bending slightly at the knees, placed his hands on my hips, and surprisingly took the sopping head of my cock between his full lips.  I jumped slightly at the touch and groaned as I watched my cock fill the small boy's warm mouth, his full lips encircling my swollen shaft, just beyond the glans.  He pulled me forward by my hips, pushing a bit more of my cock into his mouth, scraping me just slightly along his pearly whites as he did so.

"Hey," I whispered softly, and his gorgeous eyes looked up toward my own, my engorged shaft still in his mouth.  "Watch your teeth, ok?"  He nodded a bit before tilting his head back down and closing his eyes.  He moved one hand to the base of my shaft, pulling me downward slightly for a better angle, and eased down to his knees, bending me even further until my cock was parallel to the floor.  His left hand moved from my hip to my buttocks and pulled me further into him.  I could only see the top of his head and down his back to his sweet ass as he began to bob his head back and forth, up and down my cock.  This beautiful, small boy was taking me in to his mouth up to his hand at the base of my cock, and I could feel myself slightly entering his throat.  I could hear him breathing somewhat deeply through his nose, but he apparently had no gag reflex or had learned to control it.

I could feel my orgasm approaching and part of me wanted to blast away, just thinking of the steady stream of precum I knew was oozing into John's throat.  Another part of me, however, wanted to savor this moment and I bent at the waist, pulling my cock out of his mouth.  He looked up at me, confused.  "I don't want to cum yet," I told him quietly, and he nodded in understanding, licking his already wet lips.  I took his hand and he raised off his knees.  I moved backward and sat on his bed, pulling him toward me, his boy cock directly in front of my face.  I stared at his moist foreskin and my mouth watered. 

I leaned forward while pulling him by his buttocks toward me until his spike was at my face.  I inhaled through my nose, and I could smell his luscious cocklet, a little sweet, a little pungent, and entirely wonderful.  I poked my tongue out to his hood, still covering his head.  I flicked my tongue on his tip, working out a tiny taste of boy juice.  I was instantly addicted.  I had to have his boy cock in me now!

I pulled him, almost frantically, into my mouth and he almost tumbled into me as he regained his footing.  His three inches barely reached the back of my mouth as I pulled him forcefully into me, sucking vigorously.  My nose pressed firmly into his tummy until I couldn't breath.  I ran my fingers into the crack of his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and pressing my middle finger against his hole and I began jacking him off with my mouth, back and forth.  I could taste him leaking into my mouth and I could hear quiet boy panting, almost whining as I eased my finger just into his anus.  He bent forward a little, pushing his ass onto my finger a little further, but pulling his weenie mostly out of my mouth, leaving just his head and hood between my lips.

I pushed my finger a bit more into his chute while pushing his cocklet back into my mouth.  He whimpered, and I looked up.  I saw his head tilted backward in ecstasy and I felt his dick pulse slightly. I closed my eyes, wanting to memorize every detail.

And then, I felt his semen start to trickle into my mouth.  Not a lot, but enough that I could somehow distinguish between my saliva and his boy cum.  His cock started rhythmically pulsing, and then I could feel a jet of juice squirt into the back of my throat, then another.  My mouth was filled with a nutty, sweet flavor unlike any I'd ever experienced in my life.  I heard little yips emanating from my young lover, followed by moans.  As he thrust deeply into my mouth, he grabbed the sides of my face to steady himself.  He pulled me into him and then held me there firmly, his little dick twitching against the back of my throat.  I held him there until his orgasm subsided, his prick still erect.

After a short while, he extracted himself from my mouth, taking a couple steps back and looking at me with disbelief, and... lust.  His small cock was still fully erect, not having subsided a bit.  He looked over his shoulder toward his sister's bed and he turned, giving me a view of his perfect globes, glowing in the moonlight.  I could still see my hand print on his right cheek where I'd gripped him.  He took the two or three steps to her nightstand, picking up a bottle of her girl lotion from the nightstand before returning to me. 

He handed me the bottle of lotion without saying anything.  Was he thinking what I was thinking?

He turned around, and backed into me, his ass now in my face and bending over slightly.  I set the lotion down, and reached out to him, pulling his cheeks apart and staring into his tiny pucker.  I leaned into him and stuck my tongue out, running it over his little hole, slightly protruding from my assault.  He squirmed a little, and looked over his shoulder at me, pressing back into my tongue.  I could smell him, mostly fresh but slightly nasty, and I lapped at his morsel.  He was grunting like a little piglet.  After a minute or so, he stopped his grinding.

"Just do it," he hissed, pointing backward with his right hand toward the bottle of lotion on the carpet.  I stopped my assault on his pucker, and considered the seemingly inconceivable.  He bent further, aligning his asshole with my cock, removing my doubts.

I reached over and opened the bottle of Jackie's lotion, and the overpowering scent of flowers and perfume pushed aside the aroma of John.  I poured a generous portion into my hand and reached up, smearing it along his crack and into his boy pussy. My finger slipped in more easily than I would have expected, though with a little resistance.  I removed my finger and doled out more lotion onto my palm and rubbed it along my steel hard rod.  I replaced the cap and tossed the lotion to the floor.  He started to sit back into my lap, and I grabbed him by his hips, guiding my erection to its target.  I felt my cock head press against his back entrance and I paused, uncertain this could be done without hurting this precious child.  But he answered that question for me by pressing down and, with only mild resistance, I felt my head slip just into his hole.

"Uhhh..." I heard John moan, but he kept pressing slowly, easing himself toward me, impaling himself onto my pole.  It felt like a vice, wrapped in velvet, was easing down my shaft, pulling the skin of my cock tightly downward, and I knew I couldn't last much longer.  I finally hit bottom, and John leaned back into me, pushing me back slightly.  He was sitting in my lap again, but with my cock lodged deep inside his ass; I couldn't fathom how deep.  I could see he was still as erect as can be, his ball sac pulled tightly up against him beneath his rod.  I saw the muscles of his thighs flex as he lifted himself a bit and lowered back onto my bursting cock.  "Eeeh, oh..." he chirped, but continued the onslaught on his anus.  I wrapped my hands on his ribs, clearly visible.  He continued to ride my tool and I was ready to shoot.  I saw through half-closed eyes that his pricklet was starting to fire again, and I saw him pulsing, writhing.  "Oh, oh, oh..."  I could feel his sphincter pulsing and gripping my cock.

That was all it took.  I unloaded a barrage of cum into his tunnel of love for what seemed like ten minutes, the cloying scent of lavender and ass filling my nostrils...

To be continued...