Date: Sun, 24 Aug 1997 22:41:27 -0600 (MDT) From: Boy-writer Subject: John Allen (M/b) - part 2/8 JOHN ALLEN (M/b) - part 2 The story continues. If you want wham, bam, thank you ma'am action, this one isn't for you. There's a little sex in this, but more love. The story so far: John Allen has inherited a mansion in a wealthy neighborhood near a large East Coast American city. Having a background in teaching, and lacking something to do, he has set himself up as a child and adolescent counselor. He has become quite successful at it, but lately one case has attracted his attention, that of Jeremy. Jeremy is 13, cute as a button, and a new definition of hellion - in his first session, he destroyed John's office and bit his earlobe off. John has an inscrutable manservant named Jorge and two maids, Maria and Carlita, all from Costa Rica. They are totally loyal. Chapter 5 ----------- John continued his work but found his mind straying continually to Jeremy's case. He told himself that it was just clinical interest, but his cock would start to stir when he thought of holding the kid in his lap, him trying with all his might to get away. He shook his head to clear those thoughts. All that was in the past. He decided to call Jeremy's mother and ask her a few more questions. "Hello?" she said in a harried voice. "This is Dr. Allen, your son's counselor. I would like to talk to you for a minute if I could." "Oh, Dr. Allen! It's great to hear from you! After that last session, Jeremy was calm almost all day - we thought you had fixed him." Fixed him? An odd phrase. "Did he talk to you about the session?" She sighed. "No, we asked him about it, but he wouldn't talk." She paused. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" John laughed silently to himself. "No, as I told you before I tripped and fell against the corner of the desk. Actually he was quite nice and helped bandage me." There was a long silence, as there had been when he told her this the first time. "Really?" John didn't answer. "Well, you seem to be working for Jeremy; is there anything we can do?" "Jeremy seems to have a problem with his father - does he discipline him?" "Well, he tries, but you see how he is ...." she trailed off. "Mostly we just lock him in his room. He's getting too big to spank." Somehow John doubted that spanking was all Jeremy needed, though he certainly needed that. "OK, I'll see you on Friday. May I call again if I have more questions?" "Of course," the woman said, "anytime. We'll see you then." Chapter 6 ----------- Jeremy and his mother were prompt for their next appointment. He was dressed in a cowboy outfit with boots, a belt with a big silver buckle, and a western shirt. His mother was obviously pleased at having him so well dressed for his appointment, but Jeremy stared at the floor. As she talked, it seemed like she would never stop smiling, and John wondered whether it was because she thought he was helping Jeremy or because she had simply found a way to get him out of her hair for an hour. The bookcase the boy had wrecked before was a total loss - several hundred dollars' worth of antique bookcase splintered on the floor. As usual, there was another in the huge house to replace it, no less valuable that the first one. Jorge had rehung the drapes, and the books seems none the worse for wear. Carlita had made the office spotless as before. Jeremy walked in staring at the carpet, obviously ashamed of his appearance. John said, "Why don't you have a seat? Or do you want to have a go around like last time?" He smiled. The kid just looked at him for a minute, then looked away. He seemed to be smiling. He walked over to the curtains and looked back at John. "Oh, no, you don't! Those were just rehung. If you want to destroy something, I've got books you can tear up." John resumed his composure. He walked toward the boy. "Come on, we can sit in the chair like before and talk." Jeremy laughed. John was pleased for a minute that the ice had been broken, not that it ever seemed really to be with this kid. But then Jeremy picked up the heavy inkstand on the desk and threw it through the window. Fortunately, Maria was not in the garden, or she might have been showered with glass from the second-floor window. Well, here we go again, John thought, but this time he wasn't making the mistake of trying to talk to this boy. He ran straight at him, but Jeremy was too quick. He jumped over the desk, and soon they had the same Mexican standoff as last time. Then Jeremy unbuckled his belt. John was completely stunned; he simply stood there and stared. What is this kid up to? (And was it what John secretly wanted?) It lasted only for an instant. John realized that he was the adult and had to take the matter into his own hands. He moved forward over the desk, pushing papers on the floor in front of him. Suddenly, Jeremy swung the belt at the man. It caught him upside the earlobe, still bandaged from before. John yowled with pain, falling against the desk, his hand to the side of his head. That belt buckle was a deadly weapon, heavy and sharp on the edges. Being hit in the bandage was in a way a good thing, because if the buckle had hit bare skin it would have made a nasty cut. John crawled back behind the desk, the window to his back. Jeremy swung the belt absently as he moved over to the new bookcase. He looked back and grinned at John, who had struggled to his feet. John leapt over the desk and caught the bookcase just as Jeremy let it fall, books spilling all over him. He quickly shoved it back against the wall. Then, for a change, he was faster than the kid. He grabbed Jeremy by the back of his jeans waistband, started to feel him kicking, then fell to the floor with the boy under him. Jeremy clawed the carpet but couldn't move. John put his forearm across the boy's neck and reached down for his right leg. Soon he had a grip on the boot, holding down Jeremy's left leg with his own. He pulled and had the boot in his hand. He was mildly surprised to find that the boy had no socks on. John reset his forearm across Jeremy's shoulders, making sure he was securely held down, put his own right leg across the boy's to hold *it* down, and reached back for the left boot. After receiving some nasty kicks, he got ahold of it and pulled it off like the other. John laid atop Jeremy for a moment wondering what he should do. Counseling was not supposed to be like this; it never had been before. This kid was dangerous, though. John decided that a pocketknife, perhaps even a switchblade, would go well with the costume, and Jeremy was the kind of kid who would have one. He reached into the boy's left back pocket. There was nothing in there. It seemed odd to John that Jeremy wasn't saying a word; he expected screaming, yelling, obscenities ... but nothing. The boy was just lying there holding the carpet with white knuckles. John's heart softened. "I'm just checking your pockets. It's okay. As soon as I find out you're not carrying a knife, we can sit and talk. And this time we *will* talk," he said sternly. There was no reaction. He reached into the boy's right back pocket and found nothing there either. As he reached around to the right front, Jeremy started to twist, and John suddenly felt his own groin responding. None of that. He reached into the pocket, found a key, and left it there. Jeremy continued to squirm. He reached out and found a book and managed to toss it at John's head. John grabbed the boy's hands and put them behind his back between the two of them to keep them still. That stopped the book throwing, but as the man reached into the boy's left front pocket (finding nothing there but change), the struggling hands on his groin began to make him respond. Again, none of that. John took the kid's arms and folded them behind his back, holding them together in one hand. He said, "Okay, we're going to get up now. No problem, right? I'm going to hold you in my lap like before." The kid roared and flailed about but could not get free. John reached down and took both legs by the cuffs. He got up slowly, lifting the boy by his arms and feet and carried him over to a leather couch. Soon Jeremy was seated in John's lap with John's legs folded over his so he couldn't kick, John's arm holding his folded arms to his chest so he couldn't hit, John's hand holding his chin so he couldn't bite. John let out a breath. "Okay, now why did you throw the inkstand?" "Because you couldn't stop me!" Jeremy said. "Oh, yes I could have. I could have grabbed you when your mother left and not let you go." "I would have gotten away from you. I would have bit your hand if you grabbed me. I would have kicked you with my boots." "So try and bite me or kick me now. You can't do that to me, I'm bigger than you are." "Yeah, you're bigger and you're a pervert. You want my ass." John was stunned. Did the boy know something he had not intended to convey? He shook the thought aside. Still, he wondered where that language was coming from. "Now calm down. I just want to talk to you. Why do you use words like that?" "I saw my dad with my sister, he lies on top of her and does it with her." "You don't have a sister." "My *real* dad!" Here we go again, John thought, the mythical parents. He wondered whether he should play along or argue with the boy. He decided that there might me something in this imaginary family story he should know and decided to play along. "What is your real dad like?" John asked. "He's a big strong man with a hairy chest. He works construction." So Jeremy had seen some construction workers and imagined that one of them was his "real" dad, not the accountant he was actually born with. "Is he good to you, your real dad? Do you like him?" "I love him, he's my dad! But sometimes he's mean. He spanks me when I'm bad." "Does your other father do that?" "He's not my father!" "Does the man you live with do that?" "No I told you last time he's a wimp. He's sickening." Something was wrong here. John decided to ask. "You said you love your real father, but you say he's mean to your sister. Do you like him being mean to her?" "He's not mean to her, she likes it." "She likes him lying on top of her? What does he do with her?" "You know, *it*!" Jeremy said definitely. "Why does she like it?" John asked. Jeremy tried frantically then to get loose but couldn't. He said, "I'm not going to talk any more," and started to hum "Smoke On The Water." John smiled a bit at the old tune and wondered where the kid heard it. Eventually he stopped singing, but he still wouldn't talk. John and Jeremy sat like that till the session was over. This time when Jeremy's mother came, John left Jeremy with Jorge, who quietly backed the kid into a corner and stood in front of him. John took the boy's mother into the office to observe the mess. He told her about Jeremy swinging the belt buckle at him and about him trying to kick John with the cowboy boots. He asked that when she bring him next time, he be wearing sneakers and nothing sharp. She told him she would, ashamed that her plan of impressing John had gone so awry. He emphasized that she should keep Jeremy away from sharp objects. She said she was doing her best. When she left, she took Jeremy by the hand, but he threw it off. She stared straight in front of her as they left. Chapter 7 ----------- The next time John saw Jeremy, his father brought him. He was a sad old man; they had borne Jeremy late in life. The boy was dressed in a sweatsuit (with no pockets) and sneakers. Jeremy's father said he couldn't pay this time, but that he would make it up when he could. John said okay (Jorge looked up for an instant but said nothing). John asked how Jeremy had been. The father said he had been quiet for a couple days after the last session but then had attacked a younger child in the neighborhood. The man sighed and said those couple days were the best he and his wife had had in four years. He left, hanging his head. This time, John had his hand on Jeremy's shoulder as his father left. Jorge watched curiously as they walked into the inner office but said nothing, as usual. As soon as the door was closed, Jeremy leapt forward to get away, but John had a firm grip on his sweatshirt. The boy fell back against John, who soon had him by the arms and dragged him over to the couch. John took Jeremy's sneakers off - as a precaution, he told himself. Once again there were no socks. Jeremy said, "I'm sick, I want to lay down." John doubted that the boy was sick based on the struggling he had just done, but it was not well to take chances, so he laid the boy down on the couch. John wasn't taking chances with Jeremy getting away, either - he laid down behind the boy holding his arms tight, with his right leg holding Jeremy's legs down. "Is that better?" John asked. "Yes," Jeremy said. It was the first time his words had not seemed angry. John was suddenly aware of the thin legs under his own, the small back pressed against his chest, the smell of shampoo on the boy's hair. He felt himself getting hard. He wanted to stop it but couldn't - as long as he was holding Jeremy like that it would continue to grow, and John could not take the chance of letting the boy free in his office again. John shifted his hips back against the couch cushions so that the boy wouldn't feel it. "Um, last time you were telling me about your sister," John said in his best normal voice. "No I wasn't." "Yes you were. You said that you didn't think your real dad was being mean to her when he did what he did, that she enjoyed it. Do you remember now?" "I guess so." "Well, what I wonder is, why do you think she enjoyed it?" "She told me." "What did she say?" Jeremy didn't answer. "Did she say she liked your father being with her?" "Yes, she said she liked him being on top of her." "Why?" "She liked him touching her back, him hugging her." John realized that what he was doing now definitely wasn't in the rule book, but he was too far gone to stop. His hardon was really raging now, almost touching Jeremy's ass in spite of the fact that John had his own ass jammed against the couch back as far as he could. He began to feel that sliding feeling in his soul that he had felt before when he had given in to temptation, losing his three teaching jobs. "Does the man who acts like your father now hug you?" There was a moment of silence. "I don't want to talk about him. I hate him." John struggled to control his breathing. "What else does your sister like?" Jeremy's voice was soft. "She likes it when he feels her chest and puts his hands on her arms." John's consciousness went to his arms and hands, holding the boy beside him. He forcibly held himself still, feeling the soft arms, the small shoulder lying in his elbow. He found himself almost unable to speak. "What does he do to her?" he asked. "Well, he lies on top of her and he does it!" said Jeremy, sounding angry again. John realized that the boy didn't know what a man did with a girl - or a boy. He seemed to realize why his parents said Jeremy had been calm after last two visits. He needed to be held by a man and wasn't getting it from that limp-dick accountant who pretended to be his father. John felt sexual rage coming on - the purest kind. The kind that makes a man take a gun and kill his cheating wife, their bastard children, and himself. The kind that made Lorena Bobbitt cut off her no-good husband's manhood. John cleared his throat; no more of that counselor-patient stuff, this was his own voice: "Does your real father do anything with you?" There was a long silence as they listened to each other draw breath. "Sometimes," Jeremy finally said. There was another silence. "He puts his hand on her leg and rubs it." Obviously the boy needed the fictional sister as protection against what he felt. John asked, "Does she like it?" Jeremy shifted slightly, not struggling to get away like before but seeming to be making himself more comfortable. His little ass touched John's erection for an instant, but the boy made no sign of having felt it. "Yes she does. She likes his hand rubbing her leg." John reached down and felt Jeremy's thigh through the sweatpant. The anger that had come on so fast had gone just as quickly. He moved his hand slowly up and down, massaging through the cloth. "Like that?" "Sort of," Jeremy said softly. John thought about it and decided he could risk releasing the boy's right leg (the top one). He did so, still keeping Jeremy tight against his chest with his arms pinned, the kid's remaining leg held down with John's own much heavier one. Still, there was a moment when John didn't know what Jeremy would do, whether he would kick and try to get away to do more damage in the office, whether this had all been an elaborate ruse by this little master of deceit. Instead, Jeremy pulled his leg up, putting his calf in John's reach. John moved his hand down over the boy's knee, feeling the shape of the thin calf. It seemed perfect, as indeed it was. Slowly he moved his hand back up over the knee to the middle of the boy's thigh and rested it there. "Like that?" "Yes, more like that," Jeremy said. John glanced at the clock. The session was over. Jeremy's dad was probably already waiting in the outer office; his parents were nothing if not prompt. "Well, our time is up. We'll have to talk more about your sister next time." Jeremy squirmed and got an arm partly free, using it to elbow John in the ribs. John took hold of him again. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Will you be good if I let you go?" There was an uncomfortably long silence. "I guess so," Jeremy said. Jeremy's father was not surprised to see his boy without shoes on. His wife had told him that Dr. Allen liked to rub kids' feet to calm them. And Jeremy seemed very calm. More 2 come ...