Date: Wed, 2 Oct 2019 11:49:33 -0400
From: MC VT
Subject: Dear Neighbor Gay Adult-Youth

Dear Neighbor
 ©MCVT2017  Friday, September 13, 2019

Vignette; a tease.  Revealing note between neighbors.

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100% Fiction, Adult Content:  Mb.
=============================================================================

Dear Mr. F.,

I heard you yesterday.  I heard you call him your little minim, your
"wiggly polliwog." His fingers are smaller than the black keys -- you let
him touch your hallowed harpsicord?  I heard you blowing skin bubbles on
his neck, then biting him sweetly before you kissed.  I heard him cooing as
he sat on your lap with his bare feet rubbing along the satiny lining
inside your smoking jacket.

I saw you.  I saw you give him extra jam on his scone.  I saw that, and you
know what sugar does to a boy.  He'll become a drunk, go into a life of
crime -- probably politics.  Then you took him upstairs to play naked hidey
games before your afternoon lay-down.  I saw you fling the French doors
open and disappear into your dark bedroom while he sang his alphabet song.
I smelled the baby oil.  Don't try to tell me it was powder either.  I know
exactly what you were up to.

I know what you're doing.  I know you already promised to take him to the
Shellman for lunch; that's your MO.  Hovering, doting, without words.  The
lightest of touches, reassuring smiles -- you're nothing but a snake in the
grass with a bag of jet-puffed marshmallows in the nightstand ready to ease
your minim into a full bar of squeals.  I know you're gonna do it if you
haven't already.  I know you and your "stinky-boy bath time" routine.  I
heard you telling him about a great judge that kept boys on their
"sometimes straight and not so narrow" path to success.  Your upbringing
didn't include any fairy tales?

Why does he keep going back to your place?  I gave him graham crackers, all
he wanted. Told him about Desert Storm, Venezuela's backwoods, all the
exciting stuff that would certainly make a polliwog quiver.

I can't seem to clinch the deal.  Don't tell me I'm afraid of a 49-inch elf
-- I've faced devils bigger'n him so I've been refining my strategies.
Send him over next time you're done with him, I got Fizzies and cocoanut
butter.  Yep, it'll be fun.

Your neighbor at 6601,
G. Meade

P.S. Should my pluck lapse again, would you consider allowing me to mount a
security camera under your veranda?  We must be vigilant in keeping the
unprincipled riff-raff out of the neighborhood.


Fin

Neighbors