Date: Sun, 6 Mar 2011 12:47:02 +1000 From: Jeff Albertson Subject: Andrew's Outing Andrew's Outing A story by plantagenet Disclaimer: This story, and all its characters, is fictional. It is intended for adult amusement only. Not to be taken internally. Use as directed. Mrs Fletcher quickly ascended the three steps to the door of the police station, dragging her son behind her. Stopping at the charge desk, she demanded to see a detective immediately. The desk sergeant showed her and the boy into an interview room, where they were soon joined by Detective (3rd Grade) Goodwin. He slid an "Occupied" sign across the tin plate on the front of the door before closing it behind him. "Morning ma'am, what can I do for you today?" he asked cheerfully as he strolled into the small room and seated himself opposite her and her son. Mrs Fletcher brightened visibly. She was immediately impressed by Det. Goodwin - he looked like a real go-getter, not some burnt-out old hack merely hanging on until his pension was due. "Ah, Detective, thank you for finding the time to see me. It's my son, Andrew, I think he's been molested." Det Goodwin's demeanour became instantly more serious as he turned his gaze towards the boy. "Molested, eh? What makes you think that, ma'am? Not that I don't believe you, I just need to hear you say it - you were the first on the scene after all, and your observations may be very valuable." Mrs Fletcher straightened her back in pride. Here was one policeman who recognised her worth right off, she thought. "Well, detective, two days ago I let Andrew go across the road to the big park to play, there's all sorts of entertainment there for a boy after all, it's got trees, plenty of open spaces, swings and roundabouts and so on, as I'm sure you're aware. I wasn't expecting him back until lunchtime, but within the hour he returned, minus his shirt, his hair all mussed up, and a suspicious stain on the back of his shorts. I cleaned him up and tried to get some sense out of him, but eventually I gave up and brought him here. I have his shorts in this bag, here, for you." Det Goodwin took the plastic bag from the woman, and placed it on the table. He then turned directly to the boy, now taking in more of the victim's appearance. About nine years of age, he figured, with longish ginger-blonde hair, skinny build, freckles - queer-bait if ever he saw it, Goodwin thought, but what he said was "How about it, son? No need to be afraid, just tell us what happened this morning in the park". The boy's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. The detective looked at the boy's mother, hoping for some clue, but all she could do was shake her head. "He's been like this since he came back from the park - completely mute. Normally you can't shut him up. I couldn't get a single word out of him. Was it the, er, stress of the, uh, incident, do you think?" "Well, anything's possible, Ma'am. Luckily, I'm fully trained for circumstances such as these." He reached out and drew the boy into his arms, cuddling him closely and running his fingers through the boy's mop of hair. "First, I'll get his confidence, let him know he has nothing to fear from me. I do that by holding him close and caressing him, you know, bonding physically with him". Mrs Fletcher smiled. She was comforted by the officer's air of assurance. She wondered whether Detective Goodwin was married as she watched the man rub his hands over her son's body, nuzzling his neck, stroking his cheek, caressing his inner thighs and squeezing his bottom. Andrew began to visibly relax in the man's strong arms. "I think he's ready for the next stage", he whispered to the boy's mother. To the boy, he said "Now Andrew, we're just going to go over what happened to you that day in the park, so that we can find out who did this to you.. You haven't done anything wrong, don't be worried about that, but we just need to find the man that did this to you, so he won't frighten any other little boys. Now you don't have to say anything if you're not ready to, just nod if you mean `yes,' or shake your head if you mean `no'. Now, do you know who did this to you?" Andrew did not indicate any answer, he just lay back in the policeman's arms. "Hmm. This might be a little harder than I expected. But not to worry, Mrs Fletcher, as I said, I am trained for this. I think instead of words, I'll have to act out my questions. That should trigger your son's memory." He eased the boy off his lap and stood him on the floor . "Now Andrew, did the man in the park take your clothes off?" Again, the boy just stood there with a dreamy look on his face. "Maybe I should take smaller steps", the policeman remarked, reaching out for the buttons on the boy's shirt. Andrew watched the man's big fingers undo his buttons from neck to waist, then run his palms up Andrew's bare tummy and chest to his shoulders, edging the garment off the boy's bony torso. "Did the man do this?" he asked the boy, and was rewarded with an affirmative nod. Det Goodwin turned to Mrs Fletcher with a big smile. "I think we're making progress," he grinned, and she beamed back at him. How encouraging to deal with a man who knows what he is doing, she thought. Andrew's shirt plopped onto the floor as the detective slipped his fingers inside the elastic waist of Andrew's shorts. "Did he pull your pants down too?" he asked, and was given another nod by the boy. The policeman pulled the stretchy elastic waistband of the shorts and lowered them to the boy's ankles, whereupon Andrew dutifully stepped out of them. The detective saw a pointy protrusion in the front of Andrew's undies, and relished his next move. "Mrs Fletcher, do you remember whether Andrew was boned up, er, had an erection when he came back from the park that day? Because he sure has one now" Detective Goodwin asked as he groped and squeezed the boy's little bulge with his large fleshy hand. Mrs Fletcher grimaced. "Oh, that? I don't recall seeing his little penis, er, in that, uh, condition before - though, come to think of it, the day he visited the park, I think he had one then too...I noticed it when I gave him a hot bath after...his ordeal - but of course, he's just a little boy, it doesn't... you know, mean anything..." The bath would have removed most of the forensic evidence, Goodwin thought. The detective smiled at her. "We'll soon see, won't we. Andrew, now try to remember - did the man pull your underpants down...like this?" He grasped the sides of the boy's undies at the waist , his thumbs just grazing the boy's hips, before drawing the garment down Andrew's thighs. The boy gasped as his boner was first bent downwards, then sprung forth into the fresh air. The detective dragged the garment all the way down the boy's thighs to the floor, letting the boy step out of the undies before putting them on top of the growing pile of clothes. Andrew's skinny penis stood up with a slight inward curve, its circumcised head small and darkly pink. "I think we're making some real strides here, Mrs Fletcher", the detective smiled as he ran his hands up and down the boy's sides. "Now Andrew, you're doing really well, your mother and I are both really proud of how brave you are. There's no need for your clothes just now, you'll be fine. Now, did the man in the park make you sit on his lap?" For the first time, Andrew's nod was more enthusiastic as Detective Goodwin helped the boy up onto his lap. Turning to Mrs Fletcher while he rubbed his hand on the boy's bare midriff, he addressed the boy's mother in a serious tone. "Now Mrs Fletcher, we've reached the part of the interview where my questions must necessarily get very personal. I must ask you to bear with me as I find out all about the man that Andrew encountered in the park. It is vital, for the sake of the evidence that I am now gathering, that you restrain your natural instincts and let me go where the evidence takes me". Mrs Fletcher smiled and nodded in agreement. "Of course, Detective - I feel that I can trust you implicitly. Do what you need to do, I won't intervene, I want to catch this monster as much as you do." "Thank you, Mrs Fletcher. I warn you that the next few minutes may be an ordeal for you", he replied, running his hand up and down the inside of Andrew's right thigh. The boy's boner stood up proudly throughout. "Now, Andrew, remember that you only have to nod if you mean 'yes', and shake your head if you mean 'no'. Anytime you feel like talking, you just speak right up, okay son?" Andrew liked being called 'son' - no male had called him that for a long time, until the man in the park. Andrew liked Detective Goodwin too, and he also liked what the nice policeman was doing with his hand. He nodded agreement to the detective's question. "Okay, now, son, now just try to remember for me what happened when the man made you sit on his lap. Did he touch you anywhere?" The boy nodded solemnly, his head moving slowly up and down. He then raised his cupped hand to the Detective's ear and stretched up to whisper "He touched my...winkie" The detective looked at the boy's mother as he spoke. "Excellent, Andrew, thank you for trusting me so much to tell me that, you're such a brave boy". To the mother he said "Andrew told me the man touched his...winkie?" Mrs Fletcher gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "That's a word I haven't heard him use since he was a toddler, Detective - he knows all the proper biological words, I assure you. Is it the shock, do you think, making him revert to...a younger age?" "We'll just wait and see, Mrs Fletcher, there's no need to worry as yet, this is quite a common occurence in cases like these. Now, Andrew, did the man touch your winkie like this-" here the detective grasped the stalk of the boy's cock between thumb and forefinger, holding it gently "-or like this?" he concluded, moving his fingers up to the boy's tiny pink knobhead and twirling them slowly. The boy leaned back in Detective Goodwin's embrace and sighed as his penis was manipulated, then reached up to the man's ear to whisper again "He wet his fingers with spit" "Ah!" the plainclothes policeman declared to Mrs Fletcher, "Now we're making real progress" He licked his fingers and teased the knob of the boy's cut cock, making Andrew stretch upwards towards the hand that was delivering the wonderful sensations. "Like this, Andrew?" the man asked as the boy's hips shook in a little orgasm. The boy's taut stomach twitched and his legs straightened as the Detective brought the naked boy off, his mother sitting a few feet away admiring the man's interview technique. "Oh...oh...uhhhh" the boy moaned when the man stopped fondling his tool. Fearing the man might stop touching him, Andrew reached his face up to the detective's ear and whispered again "He kissed me, too. On my mouth. And he stuck his tongue in, as well" Det. Goodwin turned to Mrs Fletcher, smiling, still sliding his fingertips around the head of Andrew's cock. There was very little play in the skin of the boy's shaft, so he paid most attention to the little pink bulb at the top. "Mrs Fletcher-" he began, but was interrupted. "Gloria, please" she replied, smiling back. "You're doing a wonderful job, Detective Goodwin. I haven't been able to get a single word out of him". "Thank you, Gloria - my name's Stuart, by the way. Andrew says the man kissed him. Now I've found each and every perpetrator of these awful crimes has an individual technique - almost like a fingerprint - and I'd like to try to establish this monster's particular style with Andrew - with your permission, of course." "Anything you need to do, Det- uh, Stuart, is fine with me. Is there a coffee machine anywhere nearby?" "There's a machine down the hall and to the left, but it's godawful stuff - the officers here mostly use the the Starbucks a few doors down the street. I'll be busy with Andrew for a couple of minutes, I'm sure I can get more out of him, I think he's really starting to open up to me." As the door closed behind Andrew's mother, Stuart's mouth closed in on the boy's, his delicate face tilted upwards as the man's tongue invaded the soft lips. One hand held the boy around the shoulders as the other played a scherzo on the boy's stiff stalk - within a minute he had the nude boy writhing in his lap as he sucked on the man's thick tongue. Quickening the pace of his fingers, he felt the boy's whole body stiffen, his narrow hips arching upwards off the man's lap as he climaxed again. When the boy calmed down, Stuart eased him off his lap again, onto the floor. "Now, Andrew, try to remember, did the man...aw, fuck it" he cried in desperation, grabbing at the zipper of his trousers and yanking it down. The boy sank to his knees as if he knew what was coming and sure enough, as soon as Detective Goodwin had freed his hard prick from his pants the boy swooped on it, greedily gobbling down the hot pole of flesh. Stuart combed his fingers through the boy's hair as he moaned his encouragement. "Yes, Andrew, that's a good boy, oh, yes, your mother will be back soon, so keep it up, use your tongue more on my knob, aww, gee, that's great, good boy..." until he took two handfuls of Andrew's silky hair to hold the boy's head steady and spurted a slimy load right down the boy's eager throat. "Aaah, gnnn, uhhh, yeeeesss, keep uhhhh, yes" he moaned as his dick spurted a pent-up batch of semen into the little minx's gullet. When Mrs Fletcher returned with her coffee she found her son was now dressed again and sitting on the table adjacent to the detective, enthusiastically chattering about his collection of model dinosaurs with the plainclothes policeman. She was delighted to hear her son's voice again - that pervert in the park had given her son a serious fright, but he seemed to be over the worst of it now. "Ah, Gloria", Stuart exclaimed as she shut the door "we've been making great strides, Andrew and I. In fact, I think Andrew is ready for the next step - I need to visit the crime scene. In the park. With Andrew, that is. I thought, with your approval, of course, we'd head over there now and then meet you back at your apartment later. You can finish your coffee, of course, before you leave. How does that sound? Mrs Fletcher was delighted that the nice detective was actually asking her permission - most of the cops on TV just did whatever they liked nowadays. Plus it would be a way to get him into her home. He was a little young, but he was still a man, after all. She smiled and nodded her agreement, thanking the detective for his tip about the coffee. Man and boy left the interview room hand in hand, a nice detail that Mrs Fletcher appreciated. She sipped the coffee slowly, relishing its flavour. When the cup was empty, she found a small waste-bin in a corner for it, then left the room. Seeing the same desk sergeant on duty as when she arrived, she walked up to his desk and smiled politely at him. "Excuse me, Sergeant", she began "but do you have a contact phone number for Detective Goodwin, please?" The uniformed officer blinked at her. "Ma'am?" "Detective Stuart Goodwin - I was speaking with him right here a few minutes ago. I'd just like a contact number for him, if you would be so kind?" A frown crossed the desk sergeant's face. He tapped keys on his computer. "Goodwin, Goodwin...hmmm...nope, no detective by that name at this station, Ma'am, sorry. Are you sure you got the name right? Feeling a little frustrated at this man's ineptitude, Mrs Fletcher nodded vigorously. "Of course I got his name right! Stuart Goodwin! Detective Stuart Goodwin!" She looked around the room in frustration, hoping to catch the attention of another policeman who maybe wasn't such an idiot. Her eyes fell on a series of mug shots on the wall behind the desk sergeant. "That's him, right there, behind you!" she yelled exultantly, pointing at one of the pictures. The sergeant looked around at the mug shots. "This one?" he confirmed. "This is a sketch our police artist made of a man we're looking for in connection with a number of assaults on young boys in the big park nearby". Gloria's eyes widened in shock. She turned and ran out of the police station. Her first instinct was to run to the park, but her legs weren't what they used to be, and when she got to the park gate she gained a fresh appreciation of just why it was called 'the big park'. Still, she was driven by desperation, so she looked in every restroom she could find, ignoring the atrocious odours, then turned her attention to clumps of bushes, a gardener's shed, an old bandstand with a storeroom underneath. Nothing. No sign of her boy. She felt as though she had spent only minutes in her fruitless search, but inreality three hours had slipped by. Exhausted, she returned to her apartment. She did not look forward to returning to the police station, this time minus her son, to report his absence - she could just picture the look on the face of that smartass desk sergeant. Though she was at the end of her energy reserves, she let out a huge whoop! after shutting her apartment door behind her and immediately seeing the profile of Andrew, sitting on the couch large as life, watching cartoons on the television. "Andrew!" she screamed, making the boy jump. "You're...you're home! What...where..." He turned to look at her with a bemused look on her face. "Sure, mom. Where else would I be? The policeman dropped me off after we finished in the park. What's up?" he asked, not really caring about an answer as another episode of South Park was just starting. Gloria Fletcher paused. Her son seemed to be unscathed. Was there any point terrifying and confusing him about policemen who were not really policemen? He was a very young boy, after all, young and innocent. Maybe the whole incident would have no lasting effect on him. Who could tell? "Oh, nothing's up, sweetie. Have you had any lunch yet? I'll make you a nice ham salad roll, hmm?" Later that evening, after his mom had seen him to bed and given him his goodnight kiss, Andrew snuggled between his sheets, comforted by the weight of his blankets. He had come to the end of an eventful day. He lay on his side curled in a ball, his knees tucked up to his chest. He sighed as he recalled to mind the friendly policeman, the detective, and their visit to the park. Andrew shuddered with pleasure as he reached one hand behind him and snaked it inside his pyjamas, running it down into the crevasse of his bottom, sighing as he relived the sensations the detective gave him in the park. Secret sensations that he promised not to talk about. The special game the detective played with him, when they both got naked in the bushes a long way away from the front gate of the big park. The feeling of the detective's long hard winkie as it rubbed along where his hand was now rubbing. Andrew fell asleep hoping the man would be there again tomorrow, so they could play the special game again. End