Date: Tue, 18 Dec 2001 16:34:52 +0000 From: Java Biscuit Subject: Babying Reuben, chapter two This story involves teen/adult, male/male graphic sex and is not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. These people don't exist, this world doesn't exist, outside of this story. It is not in any way, shape, or form meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex. Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com Babying Reuben ~ chapter two by Biscuit Jean's happiness was peaking to bliss as he held the bottle to Reuben's lips, watching him suck. It had happened. Reuben had come to him. Embarrassed, frightened, defensive; but he'd come. So brave, my little virgin baby, Jean thought. Nine months had passed since they'd met, since Marcel had brought Reuben to the shop. Jean had flirted with games and scenes since his own teenage years. It was intriguing to try on a role and play with sex, fun without pressure. He'd met Marcel at a party where the boys were dressed in Victorian drag. He'd found the bold, little blond art student very sexy in his corset and petticoats and they'd dated briefly. Marcel swiftly introduced his need for money and a love of playing. Jean indulged him, for awhile, experimenting with a variety of games. But it paled very soon for him. He'd drifted back to frequenting clubs, thinking that at twenty-six, the time might have come to meet someone and share more than a game. Marcel had pestered him to meet his friend, fifteen year-old Reuben, a fellow art student. "I'm branching out," Marcel had announced in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning across the jewelry case in the shop. "Pimping," he'd laughed. "If you don't want me, Jean, maybe I can set you up with my friend. For a small fee, if you like him." "In a word, Marcel," he had said, gently but firmly, his patience running thin, "No. Give it up. Make some deliveries for me, and I'll give you some cash." Jean didn't begrudge him money. He had it, Marcel didn't. But he had no interest in furthering the boy's ambition to become some kind of pimp and he definitely didn't want to be fixed up with a fifteen year-old boy. Good Lord, thought Jean. At seventeen, Marcel was already straining his limits. He wanted a lover, not to baby-sit. "Just look at him out there -- to die for, Jean!" He'd cocked his blond head at the window and Jean had looked, in spite of himself. The boy on the other side of the glass, bracing himself against the wind with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, was, indeed, to die for, Jean thought. Even scowling from the cold, he had the face of an angel. His leather jacket was short and ragged and exposed his body, in jeans, from the waist down. As he turned, Jean saw the lovely curve of his ass and his cock jolted with interest. "He must be freezing out there. Why didn't you bring him in?" "You like him?" God, yes, he liked him and the thought of him standing there in the cold, waiting to be taken in, warmed up and fucked, made Jean harder. Maybe Marcel had, indeed, found his true calling. Jean gave Marcel a cautioning look, in spite of how his dick was responding. "We'll see, troublemaker. Take this." Jean had extracted a large bill from the cash register. "Send him around to the back. Your finder's fee, boy, don't expect any more." Marcel nodded, grinning at the amount in his hand, and headed for the door. "You won't regret it," he called back over his shoulder. "And don't hesitate to call when you miss me!" That, Jean thought, is not going to happen. He watched the blond boy take his friend by the arm and start toward the corner, heading into the wind. Reuben glanced briefly at the window, over his shoulder, but Jean couldn't read his expression. Now, as he gazed at Reuben, he thought back on how close to disaster that meeting had been. How far Reuben had been from the easy fuck he'd expected. So anxious, so frightened that Jean had been ready to send him home with a pat on the head and a crisp bill in his pocket, in spite of how badly he wanted him. He'd sworn to himself that he'd kill Marcel for saddling him with the skittish young virgin. Only the under glaze of longing in Reuben's eyes had stopped him; blue gray eyes with outrageously thick dark lashes, begging silently not to be sent away. Those looks had reached into Jean's heart and tugged unmercifully. The boy was as emotionally needy and as sexually excitable as he was scared. Jean wanted to calm him down and fuck him senseless but couldn't seem to find any way to relax him. He hadn't tried to create any particular scene. Just to get his hands on him seemed like challenge enough. He'd given him a glass of wine and tried to draw him out with conversation. He'd guessed, and Reuben miserably admitted, that he had never been with a man before. The young painter was so nervous, in spite of his obvious arousal, that he'd nearly jumped every time he was touched. They had made it as far as sitting side by side on the bed; Reuben blushing furiously, his eyes darting everywhere, anywhere, but at Jean, his slender legs crossed to try to hide his erection. His gaze had finally settled, distracted, on a basket of toys. "Do you want to see those?" Jean had asked. Reuben had looked away from them guiltily, shaking his head. "No, I was just looking, it's all right," he'd said awkwardly. But Jean, for lack of any better idea, had fetched the basket and brought it to the bedside. "Shove over," he'd told him, and Reuben had responded by quickly scooting back toward the center of the bed. "I'll show you what these toys are for." He'd picked up a shaggy stuffed bear. Jean had bought the toy for its white fleecy fur, knowing how good it would feel to naked skin. "This," he'd told Reuben, turning the bear to face him, "is for a good little boy. Hold him." The way Reuben's eyes had flashed at him, the mix of wonder and surprise on his pretty face, had sent a shot of heat straight to Jean's dick. He'd watched Reuben's fingers, raw skinned from scrubbing off paint with turpentine, curl into the softness of the stuffed toy. "It likes to touch a baby's skin," Jean had said, leaning closer to touch the top button of Reuben's shirt. "Lie down, I'll show you." The boy hadn't flinched. He'd been wide-eyed and excited, letting Jean ease him down on the pillows and unbutton his shirt. His gaze had hardly strayed from Jean's, watching him, clutching the bear, only lowering his eyes as he uttered a soft moan when Jean took the bear and stroked it over his naked chest. Jean had bluffed his way through, unprepared, but inspired by Reuben's exquisite responses. It had been extraordinary. As astonishing for Jean, who knew what games were like, as it was for Reuben, who didn't. Jean felt he'd touched the heart of why such a scene existed. Reuben, innocent of role playing, had opened up to him like a flower as he'd played with him, spreading his legs to let Jean rub him with lotion and powder him. He'd quivered in Jean's hands, coming furiously from almost anything Jean did to him, gazing at him with such guileless surrender that Jean was as awed as he was choked with lust. Jean had jerked himself off between Reuben's shaved, oiled cheeks, and it had been as intense as fucking, hotter than anything he'd felt in years to spatter the boy's virgin ass with cum. Alone, afterwards, he'd carried the white bear upstairs with him. Sleepless in bed, he'd studied its face in the vague light, silently vowing to care for Reuben, to safeguard him. The boy had no idea how vulnerable he'd made himself, how openly he'd shown Jean what he wanted and needed. So like a baby, trusting Jean to take care of him. Two weeks later, Jean had called him. It set a pattern he'd kept to, as well as he could, though from time to time he broke down. The day didn't pass when he wasn't obsessed by the thought of him. He prepared himself with props and planned, between meetings, what he would do to him. He began to feel like a teenager himself, living in a state of fogged lust, subject to agonizing hair-trigger erections. The first few times they met, Jean found ways to jerk himself off while holding him, rubbing himself against Reuben's smooth skin, sometimes thrusting into the loosened leg of the diaper to ejaculate into the sticky warmth. He'd been afraid to overwhelm him by fucking him, holding back, stimulating him, waiting for a sign, until at last Reuben contrived to get him to do it. But the essence of every encounter, regardless of its trimmings, was simply babying the boy, caressing and petting him, soothing him with soft words and touching his genitals. This role Jean could play forever because it was no role, it was pure delight. Always, at the end, Jean would cuddle him in his arms, holding him in his lap in the armchair until there was just enough time for Reuben to dress and get home to dinner, with money tucked discreetly in his pocket. And now Reuben had come to him on his own. Jean placed Reuben's hands on the bottle. "Drink, sweetheart," he told him, moving further down the bed. He knew how turned on the boy was and didn't intend to make him wait. Reuben could come so many times; his need outstripped even Jean's memory of the heat of being a teenage boy. The room was warm enough now to expose bare skin. Jean slid the satin cover off him, outwardly much more calm than he felt. Reuben was still smooth from being shaved the last time. Jean would do it again, just because Reuben loved it, scraping away nothing for the sake of seeing the gray eyes turn limpid with pleasure. But first he'd make him come, so he'd be calm under the blade. "You're so pretty," Jean said, lightly stroking the taut shaft, straining like a dart up Reuben's stomach; a perfect six inches of pink and white cock, rising from what Jean thought of as the world's most innocent looking balls, a modest rounded hand full. "I have to kiss it, baby," he said, leaning forward to guide the moist, neatly circumcised head into his mouth. He imagined he could feel Reuben's pulse under his lips. He'd barely begun to suck him before Reuben thrust at the roof of his mouth and unleashed the first hot spurt. Jean sucked it down and swallowed, holding the tight, hairless balls cradled in his hand. He felt dangerously close to coming himself from the feel and taste of Reuben in his mouth; incredibly aroused by knowing how desperately the boy wanted him, to have come to him without being called.