Date: Sun, 25 Nov 2018 12:00:01 +0000 From: Superboy Subject: A Different Kind of Day A Different Kind of Day Author: Superboy Mb cons frot rim oral Originally published on a forum as a second response to calls for a description of a perfect day with a boy. The first response was completely non-sexual, highlighting the simple love between a boy and an adult male in his life. This story is a bit different in nature. Characters: Man, 30s-ish Boy, 10ish - - - - - Sunlight streams in through the gauzy curtains, bathing the bedroom in a yellow glow. As I slip casually into consciousness, I feel the mattress underneath me shift, first on my right and then on my left. Warm air caresses my nose and lips, and two huge green eyes and furrowed eyebrows meet mine as my eyelids peek open. "GRRRAAHHHRRRR!!! WAKE UP!" The boy is in his PJs - lightweight, flowing cotton - straddling my body on hands and feet, his nose nearly touching mine. His throaty puppy growl gives me an idea of what mood he's in this morning. I raise an eyebrow and gaze into his sea of green for a moment, before suddenly exploding out from under my sheet and grabbing the boy around his midsection. His eyes turn to saucers of surprise and he squeals as the tables turn against him. I flip him over to the left and straddle his small body, one big hand pinning his two small hands above his head. "No no no NONONONONO!!!" He's already giggling before my wiggling fingers have even touched his sensitive armpits, and he shrieks when they make contact. Laughter cascades from his gaping mouth as I lay into him mercilessly for daring to besiege me while I sleep. I work down from his armpits to his slender belly, exposed as his PJ top has ridden up, and I tease the skin there and to each side in that soft region between ribs and hips. His body thrashes from side to side as he tries to escape this tickle torture, but my knees pin his thighs and he's unable to get far. "I give! I GIVE! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!" I relent, letting him catch his breath for a moment and releasing his hands. I sit back on my heels and he pulls his feet from between my legs, curling himself into a ball. For a few seconds, he is motionless save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The only hint of his next move is a subtle mischievous gleam in his eyes, and suddenly his bare feet are planted on my chest, trying to push me onto my back. Alas, I have fallen victim to this sneak attack before, and have braced myself to withstand the onslaught. I grab his feet and hold both skinny ankles together with my left hand, enjoying the look of dismay flooding his features as he realizes he's caught again. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msoEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" My fingertips just graze the silky soft flesh in the middle of his feet, his most sensitive area. His whole body convulses and he tries to pull his ankles out of my grasp, but I give him no quarter. Alternating feet, I drag my fingers in long, soft strokes across his soles, bringing him to the brink of delicious agony. When I sense he can take no more, I cease my attack and he goes limp, legs falling to the side. I lean down to cover his small body with mine and gently kiss him on the cheek. "Good morning, punk." "Hmmph," is his reply. I quickly sit back up and swat his little behind, round and perfectly hugged by his pajama bottoms. The boy gives out a loud yip and thrusts his hips forward, covering his bottom with his hands for protection. "Ready for breakfast?" He turns his grinning face towards me and nods, sticking out his tongue as he rolls off the bed and scampers out of the room to change. - - - - - "YAHOOOOOOO!!!" No matter what cacophony envelops us, I can always hear the boy's voice, ringing with that tone that is his and his alone. I am distracted from polite conversation with another Resort friend, looking over his shoulder to the bottom of the Slip-n-Slide from whence that angelic sound hath originated. The boy has managed to slide his way to the very end, crowing his joy in celebration. Arms raised up high, his suit slides a bit lower on his slender hips, teasing me with a glimpse of forbidden skin. Noticing my stare, my friend glances back to appreciate the boy's beauty. We both smile at each other as we resume our conversation where we left off. He excuses himself with a wink as the boy runs up, grabbing my forearm to pull me away from adulthood for a while. The Resort is putting on a Wet 'n' Wild Fun Day at the pool. Along with the Slip-n-Slide, there are a couple inflatable bouncy house water towers/slides, games and relays with no other real purpose than to get all participants soaking wet, and water balloon wars every hour. Most of the community has showed up on this hot afternoon, boys and their men excited for a change in routine. The boy drags me to the dunk tank despite my futile (and not particularly strong) protestations. The man in the tank gladly cedes his spot for a little while, and I climb up onto the platform and immediately start taunting the boys lined up ten meters away. They give as good as they get, threatening to drop me into the tank with every throw they make at the target. I am sent plunging into the chilly water below me time and time again, shaking my fist underwater at the the bugger who dunked me through the clear panel of the tank. The boy, however, is not having any luck; he even hits the plunger dead on, but somehow the mechanism fails to dump me from my platform. He is indignant, but I can tell he's not too upset by the way he smirks as he steps up for his next turn. Three misses later, and I find out what's so funny - the boy runs up after his final miss and hits the plunger with both hands. 'WHAT?!? HEY, you can't AAAAAAA!!!" I pull faces at him while underwater, inwardly smiling as he rolls around on the grass in glee, laughing fit to split. I resurface, snarling in mock anger. The boy feigns terror momentarily and turns to run off, sticking his tongue out at me over his shoulder. In the time it takes me to climb out of the tank to give chase, he has vanished into the crowd. A couple of his friends point me in the wrong direction (hooligans, all of them) and the hunt is on. Five minutes later, I'm stumped. The boy is quite good at this game, even when I actually put some effort into finding him. Knowing he will find me once I stop looking, using some sort of supernatural ability to hone in on me no matter where we are, I head for the pool. Drink in hand, I grab a floaty and slide into the water. There is activity all around: boys (and grown-up boys) jumping and cannonballing into the deep end, a large game of Sharks and Minnows, and of course, the ever-popular game of Try-To-Tackle-The-Adult in part of the shallow end. Mobs of boys swarm under, around and on top of a handful of obliging men who are doing their best to stay standing and keep their heads above water. I watch, amused, as triumphant boys high-five and fist-bump when they manage to dunk one of the men. The dunkee trades places with one of the men sitting on the edge of the pool, tag-team style, and more chaos ensues. As my gaze wanders, I spot a blond mop of hair peeking over the side of a yellow inner tube. My eyes keep drifting back to the blond head whose owner is facing away from me, and soon I catch him quickly turning away from me, hoping I haven't caught him trying to keep track of me. I pretend like I didn't notice, and wait patiently until I see him out of the corner of my eye take a quick look back. As soon as his head is turned, I quickly deposit my drink on the pool deck and slip quietly into the water. One big breath later and I'm diving deep to approach unseen. From below, I see the boy's hands and feet turn his inner tube, and I can imagine the concern on his face as he spies my floaty and drink but no me, looking to and fro in alarm. I savor my sneakiness for just a moment before entering shark mode. Carefully rising through the water directly underneath the boy, with a wide-open mouth leading the way, my hands shoot out of the water on either side of the inner tube at the same time that I take a little nibble at his little bottom. Several spluttering seconds later, mock indignation is written all across his face as he treads water next to his inner tube, scowling at my howls of laughter. Suddenly, I am attacked by fifty pounds of slippery boy trying to dunk me in retaliation. By himself, he has no chance of succeeding, but that certainly doesn't stop him from trying. My hands slide across his wet torso as I grasp him and throw the boy into the water several feet away. Again and again he attacks, and again and again I throw him, my hands touching his sides, his chest, his back, his shoulders. With each throw, my thumbs brush against his small brown nipples, and within half a dozen throws, they are hard little nubs of flesh. I give them an extra little rub each time I prepare to throw him, and the boy gives me a grin with just a hint of naughty in it. After ten or fifteen more minutes of roughhousing, the boy latches on to me one last time, but this time he simply holds on, breathing hard in my ear with his arms around my shoulders and his legs wrapped around my waist. I walk us toward the deep end a bit, until the water is up to our armpits. Stroking his upper back with one hand, my other slides lower, rubbing his lower back along his waistband. His trunks are a bit big, and my fingers slip underneath the fabric without much trouble, caressing the soft mound of flesh and muscle that was so recently nipped by a ferocious freshwater pool shark. A small, hard lump begins to rub against my belly, up and down, so I start to squeeze the beautiful bottom in my hand in time with the boy's thrusts. "Mmmmmmmmmm." A soft moan escapes the boy's lips, directly into my ear. One of his hands disengages from my shoulders and slides down between us, pushing the front of his swimsuit down. His hard little penis, slender and hot, seeks out the skin-on-skin contact that the boy lusts for at this moment. With nothing between my belly and his hardness, the boy grinds himself harder into my abs, which are flexed to give him something to push against. With his breaths growing deeper and faster in my ear, I slip a finger between his glutes, tracing the skin of his crease until I make contact with his little rosebud. The boy's breaths turn into quiet little grunts as his pleasure doubles and trebles. A finger pressed against the muscle of his hole as he humps my stomach, the last straw for his overloading sensory system is when I take his little earlobe between my teeth. The boy's body goes stiff and his thighs grab my waist in a vice grip, his rigid tool pulsing against my skin. With a soft moan, the boy opens his tightly-shut eyes and pulls back slightly to gaze into mine. There is love in that stare, and this time it's his turn to kiss me on the cheek. "That was soooo great. Can we go get dinner now?" - - - - - "Pizza! Please? Please! Can we have pizza? C'mon!!!" The boy bounces on the balls of his bare feet, his warm hands gripping my forearm as he pleads with me. He gives me his best puppy-dog eyes, the ones he saves for things he really wants. Aside from being utterly adorable, those eyes are unfailingly effective, and he knows it. Rolling my eyes in mock annoyance just to keep up appearances, I snag my phone out of my pocket and pull up my favorite pizza joint's app. Three taps later and the order is zipping through cyberspace. Meanwhile, the boy has bounced off into the kitchen, and as I approach the doorway he comes bouncing back out, plates and napkins in hand. Apparently we'll be eating on the sofa tonight instead of at the kitchen table. The TV roars to life with the sounds of revving race car engines as the boy resumes his favorite console racing game. I plop down next to him, and he scoots over to maximize body contact. His whole body is engaged in the game, leaning against and away from me as he steers and crashing against my arm when he plows headfirst into obstacles. Easy levels are in the rearview mirror for the boy, so wrecks and mistakes are not infrequent. That's fine by me - I enjoy his invasion of personal space. Scenery goes flashing by as his car winds its way through narrow streets, across desert dunes, and through subterranean labyrinths. Before I can figure out how the latest course manages to take the racers through the heart of a volcano, the doorbell rings. The boy, like his car, shifts gears in an instant, throwing the door wide and snatching the pizza with a rushed thanks. I trail behind, shaking my head and shrugging as I hand the delivery guy his payment and tip, which he takes with a chuckle. Mr. Mischief is plotting again. His tell is going quiet for just a little bit longer than could be reasonably expected for a monkey of his caliber. I don't always know what's coming when his wheels get turning, but I have a pretty good idea what his next move will be this evening. In less time than it takes to say "lo and behold," the boy is straddling my lap, hands on my shoulders and the tip of his nose just grazing mine. I sit very, very still, as if petrified with fear at this sudden assault. His eyes widen at this, believing that he has me in his trap and at his mercy. He suddenly pushes himself with straight elbows and bellows his intentions to the rest of the empty apartment. "KISSY MONSTER ATTACK!!!" In an instant I am smothered by a wriggling creature trying to plant wet, pursed pink lips anywhere on me that it can. You might think that a boy less than a third of my weight would be easy to fend off, and you would be wrong. Small but powerful muscles strain as he lands big juicy smacks on my forehead, my neck, my ear. I push up on his shoulders to give myself some space, but he slips his arms inside mine and brushes my hands away, diving in for the kill once more. I turn my head from side to side, never presenting him with a stationary target. I love this game as much as he does, but it's way more fun for both of us if I pretend to fight for my life and the unkissed integrity of my face. I continue to struggle as he grabs the sides of my head with his little paws and holds my head still, lining up and leaning in for the kill shot. His lips squash against mine, and with a sloppy mwah, he pulls away to grin triumphantly at me. I surrender to the kissy monster, and sensing my capitulation, he leans in again for a more careful peck. This time, his lips linger on mine, their velvety softness electrifying my nerves. Instead of pushing him away, I let my hands drift across his back to gently pull him closer, body against body, heartbeat against heartbeat. I can feel tremors coursing through his young body - although this game is not completely new, it's still thrilling and exciting in its intensity and secret naughtiness. Gentle strokes down his back comfort and reassure my young friend and he melts against me as our lips interlock. When he comes up for breath, his cheeks are rosy and his forehead flushed with pleasure. His eyes pierce mine, effortlessly plumbing my depths and seeing my soul. I gaze back, memorizing every feature of those beautiful irises, losing myself in the inky wells of his pupils. With a shy smile, he leans in for one more brief kiss before sitting back on my thighs. I bring my hands up to capture his as they leave my face, our fingers intertwining to lock palm to palm. There we sit, monster and victim at peace, a wordless love warming the air between them. "Bathroom. Brush teeth. Shower. Squeaky clean." - - - - - "Mmmmmmmmmmmm..." My hands knead the boy's soft, pliant flesh, digging gently into the muscles of his shoulders and back. His skin is cool from his shower but warms quickly under the continued friction of my skin. He is laying on his front, my legs straddling his towel-covered bottom. As I rub his slender torso, mostly skin and bones with a wiry sheath of muscle in between, I lean down and immerse myself in the fresh scent of clean boy. His shampoo is intoxicating, the smell of tropical fruit dancing through his damp locks. I lightly kiss those locks, his cheek, his earlobe, eliciting a giggle from the owner of said lobe. Sitting up, I work my hands lower down his back, fingers caressing his velvety sides while my thumbs work the muscles on either side of his spine. Tension melts out of the boy, and he closes his eyes to focus on my touch. I take care not to tickle - this moment is about pleasure, not delicious torture. He has entrusted his body to me and I am loathe to prove myself unworthy. Leaning back down to the boy, I kiss his shoulder blades, the back of his neck, and on down his spine into the hollow of his lower back. He wriggles a bit as I approach his waist; despite my best efforts, this tickles a bit, so I don't linger. Besides, this is just the appetizer. My fingers feel their way along the top edge of the towel towards the boy's belly, and his hips rise off the bed to give me access. Untucking the corner of the towel, I pull it apart but leave it draped over his bottom as he settles back onto the mattress. Some days, when he wants to play, the boy gets down to business right away. On other days, like today, he's willing to accept my slower pace of physical loving as I build him up gradually to the sharp peak of release that he enjoys so much. My hands return to his soft smooth skin, rubbing long strokes from shoulders to hips. The heels of my hands nudge the towel a little lower with each stroke, exposing the very top of his buttocks and the beginnings of the valley between them. One stroke, two, and on the third, I curl my fingers under the hem of the towel and drag it back up to cover his bottom, eliciting a grunt and a wiggly fidget from the boy beneath me. He wants to get down to business, but I have other plans for the moment. Scooting down his legs, I expose his little bare feet to my gaze, their tops very tan and their bottoms very pale. For as much as they get used every day, it still amazes me how tender the flesh down the middle of the sole is. Fingers curled around the top of the arch, my thumbs press against the tendons underneath, massaging the connective tissue and lighting my own fires of desire. The boy tolerates my little fetish briefly before giving in to the tickling sensation and kicking his feet back down to the bed. Grasping his skinny ankles, I spread his legs apart and kneel between them, anxious to continue my worship of this perfect form laying before me. I am a leg man, and this boy has an exceptional pair. Those slim ankles, with their protruding bones and well-defined achilles tendon, lead to calves that are neither too skinny nor too beefy. His mounds of tender muscle fit just right in my hands as I gently manipulate them, squeezing and stroking. The slender expanse of the boy's thighs stretch upwards, his body and legs beginning to transform from little boy squatness to tween size: that magical short span of years when the body is perfectly proportioned in miniature, the acme of human form. I lovingly massage upwards through fading tan to the pale peach of rarely-exposed skin, thumbs grazing the inner part of his thighs along their journey. Slipping under the towel, my hands finally cup his buttocks, squeezing and spreading them as my thumbs tease his taint. "Ugh, c'mon... please..." The boy has had enough; he pulls the towel off and flips his body over, knees bent and legs spreading until they rest on the mattress. His penis is rock-hard, jutting from his groin and pulsing with his rapid heartbeat. I smile up at a face masked with a mix of frustration and lust, eyes burning into mine as if to take control of my hands to fulfill his every pleasure. I feel like he's been teased enough; my hands run up the front of his thighs now, reaching the hot flesh of his crotch and grasping his rigid toy in a stroking embrace. As I make contact at last, the boy's hip involuntarily rise a little ways from the bed, pushing himself into my hand. His eyes are now screwed shut, mouth agape and hands clenching the sheets, his whole body tight with tension in sharp contrast to the relaxation of just a few minutes ago. I tease my thumb carefully across the little head of his penis, paying special attention to the underside and sensitive frenulum. Meanwhile, my other hand occupies itself with his tight, crinkly sack, tracing the ridges of skin and caressing along his groin at the base of his little nuts. "Legs up." Warm tongue meets warm taint, a collision of pleasure for both parties. Licking my way south between his now-spread glutes, my searching tongue zeroes in on its target, hitting that wrinkled ring of muscle like a ten-ton truck of tingling pleasure. The boy gasps at the intense sensations wracking his brain, sensations shooting up his spine at lightning speed. I play with the little wrinkles of muscle, the tip of my tongue tracing, teasing, manipulating. Licking up across his taint, I nibble at his balls with my lips for a moment before heading south again. Soft moans escape the boy's lips and one hand leaves the back of a knee to help hold my face close. I bid his anal ring one final adieu and scoot towards the boy slightly as my mouth approaches its final target. My lips form their own ring of muscle and slip snugly, wetly, lovingly over the end of his penis. Gently sucking, bobbing my head up and down, I finally give the boy what he wants. His soft hardness feels exquisitely right in my mouth. Up, down, up, down, moving my head to match the movement of his hips. This is not our first rodeo; I know I have him so worked up that his final crescendo is moments away. My hands are not idle: one sits lightly on his inner thigh, a finger lightly pulling on the base of his toy so it stands straight up from his pubis, the thumb tracing lines along his taint. The other has ventured north to his torso, met there by his own small paw, caressing belly, chest, tracing ribs and flicking the hard nubs of his nipples. The full weight of my ministrations come crashing down upon the boy, his whole body going rigid . One last sharp gasp of breath and he's off like a rocket, his boy orgasm overwhelming his brain as his penis twitches fruitlessly in my mouth. I am so worked up that my own orgasm explodes in unison with his, my semen ejecting into the sheets. One last slurp and his penis is exposed again, pulsing with its final twitches. The boy melts back into the bed, head lolling to one side as his hands grasp mine. I kiss his heaving belly, the small indent of his belly button, the small dip of flesh where his ribs meet. The boy brings his hands and mine above his head with a sigh, stretching to his full length in post-orgasmic bliss. Easing up beside him, I kiss the boy's chin and the tip of his nose. "I love you." "I love you too, kiddo." fin