This story is purely fictional. Alas. If you find this shop, tell me though, okay? Let's see... oh yeah, don't read this if you shouldn't because someone is probably watching. The government? Maybe. Aliens? Hopefully. Nifty is certainly watching, so give them a bribe to keep them happy. As always, the only payment I get for my writing is hearing from you. I can't hear from you unless you write me, so make careful note of the following – rwxxx13@yahoo.com Also, if you like this and want to read other stuff I've written (I mean, honestly, why wouldn't you?) you can find my other Nifty stuff under Authors and search under R for my email tag above, because I'm apparently too lazy to think up a pen name after all these years. Happy reading!

Minding the Children

(it's a clever play on words)

(↑ that was me being goofy)

(↓ that's the story)

Chapter One

Dave Bingham looked up at the clock and fought a sigh. 4:42pm. He was sure the day would never end. If someone had asked him, he'd have sworn at least twenty minutes had passed since he'd last glanced at the clock. It had only been three.

His phone rang. “Sunstate Solutions, this is Dave, how can I help you?” he inquired with false cheeriness. He listened while the customer tried to explain how important it was that he print up a vital report and how the printer wasn't working and if it wasn't fixed someone was going to pay. After about five minutes Dave determined that the printer wasn't turned on and instructed the customer how to switch on the power button. The man did so and rather sheepishly hung up the phone.

4:48pm.

*

Dave trudged up the stairs to his apartment, both hands weighed down with plastic bags of groceries from the local FoodMart. He was trying to decide if he'd go for the Salisbury steak or the pasta Alfredo. He'd had shells in sauce the night before, so decided the Salisbury steak would win. He figured he'd lose either way. Microwave dinners left no winners.

As he was walking toward his door there was a flurry of sound and activity up ahead. Cody Martin came tearing up the exterior corridor on his skateboard. The twelve-year-old wasn't supposed to ride it in the breezeway, Dave knew. He'd heard the boy's mother tell him so often enough. Cody was that kind of kid though; not mean-spirited or obstinate, but rambunctious and carefree and not much of one for rules.

Cody and his mother, Lynn, lived three doors down from Dave. They would say hi to each other, but Dave had never allowed it to go beyond that. He barely even acknowledged the boy. Case in point, Cody came a stop at his own door, kicked up his board so that it hopped into his arms as if by magic and gave Dave an enthusiastic wave and a friendly 'hey!' Dave gave the boy a casual nod and fished his keys out of his pocket, ignoring him. Despite Dave's ambivalence, Cody always greeted him warmly. He was that kind of kid.

Unlocking his door, Dave cast a last surreptitious glance at the boy from the corner of his eye. Cody was beautiful, with his shaggy blond hair and gorgeous pubescent features that were just starting to turn more handsome than pretty. Dave imagined the boy must barely be into puberty. He was small yet, slender, but his voice had that timber of a boy who's not quite a child anymore. His legs were practically shooting out of the cuffs of his jeans, speaking of a recent growth spurt. The days he saw Cody were about the best days Dave had, but he knew that way lay trouble, and he avoided contact like the plague.

In his apartment, Dave put away his few groceries and then went to his room to get changed. He ditched the slacks and shirt, putting his tie in a little plastic turning rack in his closet. He didn't understand why they were forced to wear shirts and ties at work when they were never seen by the public, but he figured the powers that be imagined that looking professional meant their employees would act professional. Dave figured that was asking a lot of people who basically worked in a cheap call center.

Seven years before, a suit and tie had been par for the course. He'd been an up and coming attorney; a young hotshot with a fantastic career ahead of him. Then he'd gotten involved with a coworker's thirteen-year-old son. It wasn't something he'd planned. The kid was definitely the aggressor, and Dave found out later he wasn't even the first of the boy's conquests. That was the only thing that kept him out of prison.

The whole thing was quietly swept under the rug, but there were whispers and he'd been blacklisted at every law firm he'd tried to find work at since. The whispers had even followed him all the way south to Georgia. Nobody would touch him. They might not know why, but they knew he was radioactive. So now he spent his days telling morons how to do basic computer troubleshooting. Living the high life.

Dave grabbed shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser and paused in front of the mirror there. He was thirty-three now. His blond hair was beginning to thin a bit on top. He was twenty pounds overweight. Okay, thirty. He grabbed his little pouch belly and lifted it. It jiggled a bit when he released it. On a whim, he pushed his briefs down to mid-thigh. His cock dangled there, about two inches long at the moment, on the slim side. So dangled was probably a bit of wishful thinking. More accurately, it just poked out a bit. He was circumcised and the head was pink among the light brown curls of his pubic hair. He was more a grower than a shower, and he'd get to five-and-a-half inches when hard. Dave often reassured himself that it was technically above the average of five point two inches, but being six-foot one, it seemed smaller than it might have on a smaller guy. He looked down. At least he could still see it. Mostly. He let out the breath he'd been holding and it disappeared from view. Giving it an idle squeeze, he pulled his briefs back into place and pulled on the shirt and shorts.

*

The next day was Saturday. Dave was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to take another day at work. He'd hoped to sleep in, but the rumbling of a skateboard over the pebbled surface of the walkway outside told him that Cody was once again flying in the face of his mother's rules about skating in the corridor. Dave didn't mind. It was pleasant to think of the boy out there, his wheat-colored hair flying behind him, his youthful body working as he sped up and down outside his apartment.

Dave wasn't sure why he liked boys. He'd never been molested or anything like that. He was pretty sure that was just a myth anyway. The world would be full of boylovers if that were the case. In fact he'd had a very happy childhood. His parents had split when he twelve, but it had seemed amicable enough to him and his little sister. They still saw plenty of their dad, and his parents were always nice to each other, never talking bad about the other.

Dave had played around with boys when he was that age, and even later, but he also remembered liking girls. He'd been a very attractive boy, but he'd always been shy around girls. Boys were just easier to understand. As he got older, the other boys outpaced him physically. By the time he was eighteen and graduating high school, he barely looked a day over fourteen. He figured that was probably at least a factor in his attraction to young boys still at the age of thirty-three. That's what he told himself anyway.

He'd dated plenty of women. By twenty-one his body had caught up with his age and he was over six feet tall and in great shape with handsome features and fantastic hair. He was also in law school, with a promising future ahead of him. Still, his relationships with women had always been about sex and companionship, and he'd never had any real romantic feelings for any of them. Even during that time he thought about boys, but it wasn't something he dwelt on, thinking it was just a quirk of his personality.

That was until he'd met Luke. Of course, that had turned out horribly, but being with the boy, caressing his young body, drinking in the sight and smell and feel of him, that small, beautiful cock, his perfect skin... it had changed everything. He'd barely thought of, or even looked at, a woman since then. His obsession now was purely with boys on the cusp of puberty.

It was a dangerous attraction, he knew. He didn't find it at all difficult to control his urges, but the urges were there. As he lay there listening to that skateboard, his cock stiffened, just imagining what young Cody must look like naked, his beautiful young limbs, his delicate little penis. He reached down and grabbed himself.

*

Dave finished dressing in jeans and a polo shirt. He'd cum explosively in the shower, thinking about Cody. It wasn't the first time. He knew it wouldn't be the last. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out the door. He needed to get out of his apartment for awhile. He wasn't sure where, he just wanted out.

Sadly, Cody was nowhere to be seen. Dave reflected that it was probably for the best. Twenty minutes earlier he'd been furiously stroking his cock while thinking about sliding his lips down the length of the boy's preteen penis. He wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if he'd seen him at that moment. Would the boy be able to see the lust in his eyes?

In the parking lot Dave climbed into his car, a twelve-year-old Toyota Celica, blue except for the passenger door which was white after someone had backed into him in a parking lot. He'd never bothered to have it painted. Frankly, he couldn't afford it.

The seatbelt was tight around the waist. Everything was tight around his waist these days. He didn't like to think about how many pant sizes he'd gone up in recent years. He used to hit the gym at least four times a week. Now it had been at least four years since he'd even set foot in one.

He knew it was the depression. It really did mess with one's head. Losing his career had been a huge blow. Coming to terms with the fact that he'd never be able to be with anyone sexually again was crushing. He was facing a lifetime of solitude and loneliness. He just had no interest in women any longer, and boys were certainly off limits. Sometimes it was all he could do to get out of bed.

Dave just drove. He had the radio on and the windows down. The days were warming nicely. It had been a long, cold winter. Soon it would be summer. He remembered the few times he'd dared go to the apartment complex's pool the previous year. He'd watched Cody, then an eleven-year-old tornado of skinny arms and legs and flashing golden hair, through dark sunglasses, sure every adult there was thinking the same dark thoughts about him.

He drove aimlessly. He had no destination in mind. He lived in one of the more eclectic suburbs of Atlanta, a mix of bohemian creativity and hipster delusion. Finally he found a spot on an interesting street and pulled over and parked. The street was an interesting mix of cafes and shops, most of which would be out of business in the next six months, replaced by an identical shop selling counter-culture dreams.

He sat and had a cup of coffee, watching people in knitted wool caps and thick glasses hunched over iPads or huddled together, sucking on vape pens. He gathered from the conversations he overheard that Trump was the devil and the end was nigh. What did any of that matter when he was facing a lifetime of sadness? He paid for his ridiculously expensive coffee and left.

There were some really nice and interesting murals painted on the buildings in this section of town. Dave found himself just wandering, enjoying the warmth of the day and the creativity of the artists. Eventually he ran out of sidewalk. He decided to go over one block, to see if there was anything to see there on his walk back to his car.

He was disappointed. The main strip he'd just left had all the interesting shops and murals. Along this street were some small law firms, accountants, an older pizza joint, and other anonymous shops. He'd just decided to pass back, figuring that looking at the same murals a second time was better than looking at nothing but the psychic and tarot reader he was passing at the moment.

He went to the corner, planning on turning back to the main strip when he paused. On the corner was a pawn shop. It didn't have the look of a normal pawn shop though. No cheap neon. No musical instruments in the window, or cheap watches. No promises of guns and electronics inside. In fact, while the place was labeled Eastern Promise Pawn, it looked more like an antique store. Some of the items in the windows were fascinating and seemed to be of high quality. Deciding to take a chance at a distraction, he entered.

Dave decided it definitely wasn't your typical pawn shop. Not that he'd been in all that many, but he'd been in a couple, and driven past hundreds more. The place had a quiet feel to it, and smelled of incense and furniture polish. It wasn't open and bright, but though it was crowded with furniture pieces, it didn't feel oppressive. Instead it felt cozy. Everywhere he looked was another fascinating item, from gilt bird cages to exotic masks and statuary in jade and onyx.

He made his way through a somewhat narrow corridor of Eastern style dressing screens and came into an open area. Here were finally the display cases he'd expected, but even here he was surprised. Instead of cheap metal and glass, lit with strips of LED lights, these cases were obviously hand-made, with dark quality wood, lovingly shaped. The items they contained all looked like treasures.

“Hello to you,” said a voice. It was deeply accented.

Dave looked up to see a woman behind one of the counters. He'd have sworn she hadn't been there a moment before and reasoned she must have stepped quietly through the dark curtain behind her which he surmised led to a private back area. The woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties or perhaps even older, yet she had a timeless feel to her. He guessed that she was Chinese, but he was no expert. She was dressed in an Oriental gown. Her hair was still black as pitch and tied up in a bun, which seemed to be held together with two jade chopsticks. Of course, he realized they probably weren't chopsticks, but he wasn't sure what to call them. He wondered if thinking they were chopsticks was racist.

“Uh, hello,” he said. “You have a beautiful shop.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she waved him forward.

Dave stepped closer, eyes going to the shelves in front of her. There were small knives with decorative handles, more of the chopstick things, perhaps actual chopsticks this time, tiny figurines, necklaces, rings and fans. In fact, so many things that he was losing himself trying to take it all in, his eyes feasting on the rich and exotic nature of the items.

Finally, Dave realized he was being rude and he looked up a bit sheepishly. The woman was smiling at him indulgently. To his surprise, she reached forward and lightly patted the back of his hand, which was resting on the glass.

Dave began to yank his hand back, afraid he'd offended her by getting his fingerprints all over the glass, but she gripped his hand before he could pull it away. She had a surprisingly strong grip. Her hand turned, taking his hand in hers. She once again patted the back of his hand with her other, then she held him and searched his eyes.

“You very sad,” she finally said.

Dave wasn't sure what she'd said. Or maybe he didn't understand why she'd said it. “I...” he began.

The woman smiled sadly and shook her head. “So sad,” she said.

Then, with a final squeeze of his hands, she released him. She turned around, looking at a curio cabinet. She opened a door and selected a small wooden box. She looked back over her shoulder and caught Dave's eye. She seemed to think for a moment, then she nodded once and closed the cabinet door.

Turning, the woman placed the small box on the counter in front of Dave. “Is very special,” she said. Dave found himself leaning closer. The woman lifted the lid and pulled it open. Inside was a necklace. The chain was gold, but what drew Dave's eye was the pendant. It was a circle of jade, about the size of a quarter, and within was carved a Chinese character. Of course, Dave had no idea what it meant.

The woman lifted the chain from the box, allowing the pendant to rest against her palm, displaying it to him. Dave couldn't have said why, but he was fascinated.

The woman said, “You buy. Two hundred.”

Two hundred dollars? Dave thought. I can't afford two hundred dollars.

He didn't hesitate however, immediately reaching into his wallet and handing the woman his Visa card. She ran the card on one of those antique card sliders and had him sign the slip. As she held up the necklace to him he reached forward to take it, but at the last moment she snatched it back. She gave him a very intense look.

“You a good man. Remember,” she said. Then she handed him the necklace.

Dave didn't hesitate, immediately undoing the clasp and slipping it around his neck and clasping it again. He thought it was strangely warm against his skin, as if he'd already been wearing it. Before he could even thank her, the woman disappeared back behind the curtain. Dave took that as his cue and left the store.

*

Sunday had been a day of television and watching videos on YouTube. Okay, and reading the occasional boylove story on Nifty.

On Monday morning he once again forced himself to crawl out of bed and prepare for another day of boredom and humiliation. He wasn't disappointed. He hadn't been in his cubicle ten minutes when Gary Cook, his twenty-one-year-old supervisor, was hovering over him. Gary had a style to him that some might call slick, but Dave thought of as slimy. He was an okay looking kid, but he didn't hesitate to abuse the small amount of power he had. Dave hated him.

The feeling was mutual. Dave had been working at Sunstate for a year. It was the latest fall from glory. He'd been working as an account executive for a bank prior to that, but somehow, through some insidious means, his employers had gotten wind that he wasn't to be trusted. He'd been asked to leave. It wasn't the first time. Dave was convinced that someone, likely Luke's mother, was still poisoning his work relationships, all these years later. If so, the woman was holding a hell of a grudge.

Sunstate hadn't yet gotten the word, or perhaps they simply didn't care. He was in a tech support position, and there wasn't much lower he could sink, considering his education. In fact, it was his education that was causing him problems with Gary the slime. The guy had somehow figured out that Dave used to be an attorney. Dave hadn't advertised the fact. In fact, he hadn't even mentioned it on his resume. Gary had no idea why Dave wasn't working as a lawyer anymore, but he was sure it must be horribly embarrassing, and he seemed to delight in tormenting Dave about it.

“Looks like your numbers were down last week, Bingham,” Gary said, waving a stack of papers idly. “Call volume is important around here. Maybe you were busy preparing for a big case?” he smirked.

Dave felt himself tensing. This little shit was getting on his last nerve. Bad enough he had to work in this craphole; to have to deal with Gary Cook on top of it was just the booger on the shit sandwich.

Fed up, not even caring at this point if it cost him his job, Dave turned and growled, “Why don't you piss off, Gary?”

Dave wasn't sure what he was expecting. Anger? Would the guy storm off? Fire him on the spot? Get red in the face and wander off, unsure how to cope with someone talking back to him? There were any number of other scenarios Dave could have imagined, but he'd never have dreamed of what actually happened.

A strange look came over Gary's face. He looked momentarily confused, then worried. Dave smelled it before he saw it, the odor of urine. Then he watched, stunned, as the left leg of Gary's khaki slacks grew dark. Soon his crotch darkened as well, and piss began to run out of his pant leg, soaking into the guy's shoes and socks before spilling out onto the carpet. Gary just stood there, stunned.

Dave jumped up, distancing himself. He was shocked. The kid was just standing there, pissing himself, almost glassy-eyed. “Gary?” he asked, nervously. “Dude? Are you okay? Are you... having a stroke or something?”

Finally Gary shook his head. He glanced downward, seeing his piss-stained pants. Then his eyes grew wide with shock and he clutched his crotch before realizing what he was doing and awkwardly wiped them on his shirt. Without a word, he turned and fled.

Dave watched him go, unsure what to say or do. He looked around, catching the faces of stunned coworkers, calls forgotten, headsets ignored while the man disappeared into the men's room. Dave uttered what they were all thinking, in one form or another. “What the actual fuck?”

After another few stunned moments a few workers went back to calls in progress. Others set down their headsets and began to huddle together, whispering. Dave put some distance between himself and his cubicle, as if the piss stain on the floor were somehow his fault.

Eventually the incident drew the attention of management and a higher up came to investigate. Workers were briefly interviewed, then the woman, Kelly Cartwright, took Dave to a conference for his take on the incident. Dave told it as he'd seen it. While they were talking a girl came in and whispered something to Kelly. Dave heard her say something that included, “Send him home.”

After the girl left, Kelly asked Dave, “What do you think set the guy off? Have you seen anything off about him lately?”

Other than being a douchebag? Dave wanted to ask. Instead he shrugged and said, “It can be a stressful job I guess. Customers call with problems, so they're always upset. I suppose that can get to someone after awhile.” Then he smiled to show he was joking and said, “You should send all of us home for the day.”

A strange look came over the woman's face then, and after a moment she nodded. “Good idea,” she said. “Thanks, Mr. Bingham,” she said, and shook his hand.

Kelly led Dave out of the conference room and loudly announced to the room, “In light of the... incident today, we're going to send you all home. With pay of course. Relax. Enjoy yourselves. Try to let the stress of the day and the job flow away. We'll see you again tomorrow, recharged and ready to get to it. Have a nice day.”

The workers looked around at each other, shocked by the news. However, none were as shocked as Dave. A company like this, hell, especially a company like this, didn't just send their employees home for the day. With pay? And she hadn't even hesitated. She just took his suggestion as... Dave felt his eyes growing wide. It hadn't hit him until that moment, but hadn't he said something to Gary about pissing? Piss off, Gary. That's what he'd said, and a moment later the guy was pissing himself. Okay, it wasn't pissing off necessarily, more like pissing on, but still. What the hell?

Unconsciously, Dave's hand went to the pendant around his neck. Was this really happening? Well, there was a way to found out, as outrageous as it all seemed. He'd approach the question scientifically. As he was gathering his things, readying himself to leave, he saw Al Johnson. Al was a nice enough guy, which is why he'd lent him the twenty bucks in the first place, but the guy always seemed to have an excuse when it came to paying him back.

Hurrying to catch up to Al's retreating back, he touched the man on the elbow and said, “Hey, Al.”

Al stopped and turned, he had a slightly guilty look in his eyes, as he always did since getting the twenty he apparently had no intention of ever repaying. “Hey, Dave. Crazy, huh? Did you see Cook running for the jakes? Piss all over, man.” Then Al bonked himself on the forehead. “Of course you did. You were right there. That must have been freaky, man.”

“Yeah, it was nuts,” Dave allowed. Then, “Al, give me my twenty bucks.”

Al cringed a bit. “Man, I would,” he said, a wheedling tone in his voice, “but I had to give all the cash I had to my kid this morning for some field trip. I had to pack a lunch,” he said holding up a greasy paper bag as proof.

So much for that, Dave thought. Then he realized that maybe Al would have paid him back if he had the money and just couldn't obey whatever weird mental waves Dave was conceivably sending because he was broke. Still, it was time he turned the screw a bit at the very least.

Dave sighed. “Alright man, but if you're going to borrow some cash from someone you should really pay it back when you can.”

There was a brief flicker in the man's eyes, and he shrugged. “You're right, Dave.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He pulled out two tens and handed them over. “Sorry about that. Hey, we'll see you tomorrow, huh?” Then the man left, leaving Dave standing there with two tens and a shocked look on his face.

*

Dave sat in his car, trying to work it out in his mind. He was idly fingering his new necklace, rolling the pendant between his fingers as he thought. Evidence was beginning to stack up on the side of something actually happening. As fucking crazy as that was. Surely this wasn't just a string of coincidences. If Dave assumed for the moment that something actually was happening, then what were the mechanics of it?

He'd told Al to give him his twenty bucks, and even though the man had the money, he'd been able to lie and say he didn't. There was certainly no mental compulsion there. So how did that explain the other incidents? After all, Al had given him the money eventually. What had he said? He said that Al should pay him. That wasn't really a demand. It was more of a suggestion for proper behavior. It was also a suggestion, although given in jest, that had lead Kelly to release everyone for the day.

What had he said to Gary? Dave strained to remember. Finally it hit him. He'd said, 'Why don't you piss off?' Sure, it could be interpreted as an order, but it could also easily be seen as a suggestion. If Gary took it that way...

Dave stuck the key in the ignition. He had to do some field testing. He took off out of the parking lot, mind whirring. He'd been driving only a couple of minutes before he saw a cheap looking bar off the side of the road. It had the look of one of those places that attracted people who liked to start drinking at ten in the morning and were wasted by late afternoon. It was the sort of place he'd never go into normally.

Dave pulled into the parking lot, dust rising and pebbles pinging off the undercarriage of his car. A sign announced the place as The Dugout. The neon in the sign was already lit and he could see that the O was out in the sign. Taking a breath to steel himself, he entered the Dug ut.

The smell hit him immediately. Stale cigarettes and beer with an undercurrent of motor oil, body odor and cheap pine cleanser. There were six people in the bar; four customers, three rough looking guys who looked liked they were in for a liquid lunch, and one really old guy who look wedded to his stool. Behind the bar was a fat guy in his forties wearing a stained white t-shirt insufficiently stretched over an ample belly, a good portion of which was on display. Also behind the bar was a young, attractive woman. She looked maybe nineteen or so and had long brown hair. She was holding a pencil and apparently working on the books, given the stack of receipts before her.

Dave walked up to the bar and chose a stool. He looked around for a moment, working up his courage, then said to one of the rough looking guys, “Hey buddy, buy me a beer.”

The guy scowled at him. “Fuck off,” he said and went back to talking in a low voice with his buddies. There was chuckling.

“How about you?” Dave asked another guy at the table who was looking over at him. “Wouldn't you like to buy me a beer?”

The guy looked momentarily confused, but he didn't refuse outright. Instead he asked, “Why would I do that?”

Why would he? Dave wondered. “Because we're old friends,” he answered. “You'd love to buy me a beer.”

The guy nodded and held up a hand. “Charlie, get my friend a beer.”

The other two guys at the table suddenly started to quietly question the guy. Dave could see him shrugging, apparently a bit confused. The fat guy behind the bar, Charlie, handed him a glass of beer with a suspicious scowl.

The first guy Dave had talked to suddenly rose from the table and walked over to him. Dave felt himself tensing. “Where the hell you know Drew from?” he asked, hooking a finger at the guy who'd bought him the beer.

“I told you,” Dave said. “We're old friends.” Then he raised his voice to carry through the room and said, “Hey, we're all good friends, aren't we? You guys trust me completely.”

The look on the guy's face changed immediately. Where he'd been scowling moments before, now a grin broke out on his face. “Hey man! How you been?” he asked. He squeezed Dave's shoulder companionably. “You guys all know my friend, right?” Then he turned to Dave. “Man, I'm so embarrassed, but I forget your name.”

“It's Dave,” Dave said.

“Dave!” the guy said happily. “Man, Dave, it's so great to see you. How you been?”

Dave was thrilled. He didn't know how or why, but whatever was happening was really happening. He wasn't just imagining all this. These guys genuinely liked him. They were treating him like an old, dear friend. Just then, Dave glanced behind the bar at the girl. She gave him a friendly smile, but then went back to her books.

“Hey, what's your name?” Dave asked her.

“Jenny,” the girl said with a smile.

“Hey, Jenny,” he grinned. “Why don't you come and give me a kiss?”

The party atmosphere dimmed a little bit. There was a flickering of frowns through the smiles. Guy number one walked cautiously back to his seat, watching him. Dave had to tread carefully.

The girl asked, a bit confused, “Why would I do that, Dave?”

Dave thought carefully. He wanted to word this just right, not just for her, but for the suspicious men. “Hey, like I said, you trust me completely.” He judged the effect for a moment, then continued. “Plus, you're really attracted to me, and all the guys would be happy if we hooked up.”

“Go get 'im, Jen,” Charlie said with a grin.

Jenny smiled and ducked under the bar. She came right up to him and snuggled up between his legs then wrapped her arms around his neck. Then Dave had his first kiss in eight years. It wasn't Luke with his hot little mouth, but the girl knew how to kiss and she was apparently eager for it. In spite of himself, Dave felt himself growing hard.

When the kiss broke, Jenny smiled and Dave swallowed nervously. “Hey guys,” Dave said, having to clear his voice twice to get it out. “Maybe you guys could turn around, give me and Jenny some privacy? I think that would make everyone happy.”

“Sure thing, Dave!”

“You got it!”

“Give it to her, Dave,” came the round of happy encouragement.

Dave leaned close to Jenny, who was still snuggled up against him. He whispered in her ear, “Would you like to suck my cock?”

Jenny seemed to think a minute. Then she shook her head. “Not right now, Dave.”

“What's wrong?” he asked, confused. Shouldn't she just want to dive in, as it were?

She looked around nervously. “We're in the middle of the bar. My dad is right there. I'm really attracted to you, and I trust you, but...” and she trailed off.

Dave nodded, thinking. Then he said, “It's perfectly fine to suck a cock in a bar, if you like and trust the guy. Your dad won't watch, but he's happy knowing you're doing it. It'll make him happy. Besides, you've never wanted to suck a cock as much as you want to suck mine.”

“Stand up,” she whispered, suddenly a bit frenzied.

Dave stood and she immediately attacked his belt and then the button and zipper on his slacks. She pushed his pants and briefs down. Then she sank to her knees in front of him and took his cock in her fist. Dave couldn't believe how excited he was, considering she was a woman. His heart was racing. He gasped as she swallowed his cock.

“Do you like my cock?” he had to ask.

Jenny released him for a moment and leaned back, examining his stiffened penis. “It's not very big,” she said, “but it looks nice. Easy to suck, which is great because I've never wanted to suck a dick as much as I want to suck yours.”

Dave took that with equanimity. He'd asked after all. Thinking a moment, he said, “Jenny? I have the most amazing cock you've ever seen. It's beautiful and you want more than anything to pleasure it. It gives you pleasure to pleasure me.”

Jenny whined and doubled her efforts on Dave's cock. He admitted to himself that he'd never had a better blowjob. Well, Luke was better, but only by dint of being a young boy and the excitement that brought. The kid's technique was decent, but not on par with young Jenny.

Jenny released his cock, licking up and down the shaft, sucking at his balls. “I love your cock so much,” she practically sobbed. Dave noticed that her hand was rubbing furiously between her legs. He hoped her jeans didn't get wet.

Dave didn't last long. It had been too long since anyone had touched him and Jenny was too good. The weird sense of power he was experiencing was also completely new to him. Within only a couple of minutes he was spraying his load into Jenny's throat. She swallowed it expertly, moaning all the while.

When she finally released him, she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I've never cum like that,” she told him.

Interesting, Dave thought. To her he said, “You were wonderful, baby.” She smiled beatifically.

Then Dave realized that he was standing there in the middle of a dingy bar with his pants around his ankles and his penis slowly shrinking. He'd always been a bit uncomfortable being nude in front of men. He knew he was average in the dick department, but his height made it look smaller. So did the fact that he was a grower and thirty pounds overweight, so he avoided situations where he might be seen. Now he was standing here in the middle of a bar, letting it all hang out. Of course, nobody was looking but Jenny, who was still staring at it hungrily, so it didn't mean much.

“You guys can turn around,” Dave said.

He waited for comments, but apparently his suggestion that they were friends kept them from saying anything. Not knowing why he was doing it, he said, “What do you guys think about my dick? You can be honest.” By now it had shrunk almost completely, and was once again just poking out a bit, not much more than three inches long.

The guys at the table looked at each other. Charlie was coming around the bar. The first guy Dave had talked to shrugged and said, “Pretty small, man, but it's probably bigger when it's stiff, so who knows? Looks alright.”

The third guy, who's name Dave never heard, said, “Looks okay. Bit on the small side maybe.”

Drew spoke up, saying, “I'd suck it,” earning strange looks from everyone. Apparently just realizing what he'd said, Drew shrugged.

Charlie had just made it around the bar and stood a couple of feet away, looking down at Dave's dick. “Bigger'n mine,” he said.

Jenny giggled. “It's true,” she said. “My daddy has a little one.”

Charlie glared suspiciously at his daughter and she laughed. “How many times have I put your drunk ass to bed?” she asked. “You think I haven't seen what you're packing a few times.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Mom told me. She likes it though. Says it's easy to suck.”

Dave pulled up his pants, and as he was zipping and buckling he looked around. He could see some suspicious glances being cast around. None directed at him, but he had the idea he'd stirred up some shit. There was also some quiet arguing between the guys, likely over Drew's admission of being gay.

Feeling bad, he spoke up. “Guys, I've had a great time, I want to thank you for that.”

Everyone smiled and guy number one said, “Some more than others,” with a nod to Jenny, who smiled.

“I'm going to leave,” he said, to a chorus of disappointment. He held up his hands for quiet and got it. “When I walk out the door, I want you guys to forget I was here. Forget you ever saw me, and forget everything that happened while I was here. That sound good to everyone? It'll be for the best.”

They seemed to think about it, but slowly they all began to nod. “Okay, so you guys just had your usual time, nothing unusual happened and now you'll go back to your day like always.”

“Take care, Dave!” they all called, or words to that effect.

Dave walked out of the bar, a new, confident spring in his step.

Okay, so there were no young boys cavorting around in the nude, but you can likely imagine where this is going, so stay tuned for part two. Also, I'll let you in on a secret. The more emails I get the faster I tend to get the next part out. (okay, that's a lie, but I really do like emails)