Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2007 20:15:30 -0400 From: Jeff A Subject: Mother Knows Best 2: Aunt Knows Better Aunt Knows Better a story by parrafan Author's Note: This is a sequel to an earlier story "Mother Knows Best", inspired by true events. It probably will make more sense if you read "Mother" first, but hey, it's a free country (or it is where I am, anyway). Disclaimer: This material is not suitable for minors, by whatever definition applies where you are. The author does not endorse or participate in these activities, he only (wistfully) records them for your delectation. Dedication: This story is dedicated to the person (I'll call him Tony) who inspired it. And to Willi (yes, there really IS a Willi !) * * * Aunt Knows Better Jeremy and Martin's first hour as ersatz uncle and nephew passed quite comfortably, in Martin's opinion. They sat together on Martin's couch watching television, some nature program about killer bees, or killer monkeys, or perhaps it was bees that killed monkeys. Jeremy kept up a nonstop stream of questions, about the monkeys, about clouds, model aeroplanes, fishing; no subject was too esoteric to escape his curiosity. Martin wondered whether this, too, was some kind of test - was Jeremy trying to determine Martin's boredom threshold, or maybe he had eleven years' worth of inquiries stored up in his brain and now they were simply flooding out, unleashed by Martin's earlier hospitality. Martin did his best to answer all of the questions the boy posed, although at times the answer simply was 'I don't know' or 'you got me there, Jeremy'. Sixty minutes of sitting on the couch was beginning to deaden Martin's butt, so he made an attempt to get up, only to find Jeremy leap on him. "Where are you going?" the boy demanded, desperation in his voice. Martin smiled and cuddled the boy whose arms were tightly wound around his neck. "Well, I was thinking of a cup of coffee and a piece of cake; it's nearly time for afternoon tea. What can I get you, nephew?" Martin felt Jeremy's slight body sag with relief in his arms. "I thought...I thought...nevermind. Just a glass of water, please Martin. Well, maybe a small piece of cake, too". Martin had been holding the underwear -clad boy with a hand cupping his bottom, so he gently eased the boy back onto the couch, adding a tiny peck on the forehead as he released him. Returning from the kitchen with a tray bearing coffee, water and two slices of cake, Martin resumed his place on the couch. The bees were still devastating the monkey colony. Jeremy wriggled over closer to Martin, their thighs touching as they picked up their drinks from the tray. "A toast", Martin declared, holding up his coffee mug for Jeremy to 'chink' with his water glass. "To happy times with my newest and best nephew". Jeremy giggled, then sipped his water, half of it spilling down the side of his face. A few drops had reached his bare chest, so Martin whipped out a handkerchief that looked clean, and gently mopped them up. One cheeky droplet had found its way into Jeremy's navel, and when the boy realised that Martin had overlooked it, he lifted his bottom off the couch and arched his tummy, smiling slyly at Martin, "You missed one, uncle" Martin grinned back at the boy's audacity. "I didn't miss it, I was saving it for supper", Martin corrected, dropping the handkerchief and diving face first for the boy's tummy. He had seen plenty of parents give their kids tummy farts, and had always wanted to do it himself, but never had the opportunity - until now. Jeremy's shriek of surprise was followed by a cascade of giggles as Martin blew rude noises on the boy's stomach. He still could not quite believe his good fortune - only that morning, he had resigned himself to a life of solitude, and now, a few hours later, he held an almost naked eleven year old boy in his arms, laughing and squirming, with his mother's approval. Jeremy went limp, signalling that he had had enough fun for the time being. "Martin, are you gay?" he asked suddenly. "It's alright with me if you are, really, I just, you know, wondered..." Martin smiled benignly. He knew it was only a matter of time before the subject arose. After all, he was single, he dressed neatly, kept a clean house and cooked a mean cake. Who wouldn't wonder? "I'm not trying to dodge your question, Jeremy, and I don't blame you for asking, but it's not as simple as 'yes' or 'no'. If you're asking have I ever had sex with a man, the answer is, not since I became an adult. If you mean, do I want to have sex with a man, the answer is, probably not. But if you're asking whether I like women, I guess the answer is 'no' to that as well". Jeremy shook his head a little, expressing his confusion. "Did something...happen to you when you were...a boy?" Martin sighed deeply. "Earlier today, you told me your life story. Now I'm going to repay that confidence by telling you about an episode in my childhood that I haven't spoken of to anyone else. But I don't want you to think I'm telling you this story to seduce you or anything. I just want to demonstrate that of all the people you could have confided in, I'm probably the one person on this street, maybe in this whole town, who can truly feel what you have felt all your life". Jeremy searched Martin's eyes for any sign that he was being made fun of, found none, and crawled into his uncle's lap, as if to show that he trusted him implicitly. Encouraged, Martin cuddled the boy and began his tale. "I was about thirteen, I guess. That makes it around thirty years ago. Childhood was different then, especially in a small town. Like you, I was an 'only child', and fatherless. But I did have an Aunt. She was my mother's older sister. We didn't have a lot of contact with Aunt Felicity - she was a widow, and wealthy, having inherited a sizeable estate from her late husband. I guess we thought she was above us, socially. So it came as a complete surprise when she invited me to stay with her for the summer. My mother could not afford to send me to summer camp, and her sister's invitation came as more like an order than a request, albeit a welcome one. I was put on the bus and arrived on my Aunt's ornate doorstep the first day of summer vacation. "Aunt Felicity lived in a big house on a large block. Even the street she lived on looked rich, with a row of palm trees down the middle, and carefully manicured sidewalks, with little hedges and gardens. Everybody in the street had big houses, I guess it was the wealthy end of town. I spent the first day exploring all the rooms of her house, sure that there must have been a secret panel or a trapdoor or something somewhere. When Aunt Felicity suggested I burn off some energy outside, I took off and roamed the grounds for hours, shooting imaginary Redskins, blowing pirate ships out of the water, and climbing trees that I thought were higher than any in my own home town. "Far from tiring me out, the day's activities in a strange environment had energised me, so when Aunt Felicity said it was time for bed, I was still wide awake. I remember jerking off three times that night, to try to get to sleep. Every time I did it, I had to wriggle further over to the edge of the bed, to avoid the wet spot. By morning, I was almost on the floor. I was really very innocent - I had no idea what happened to bedsheets at laundry time. Jeremy giggled in Martin's lap on hearing the man confess to masturbation - not just once, but three times in one night! "I do that to get to sleep, too, sometimes, but I don't make any sperms yet", he whispered. "Well, even at thirteen I did, and for some unknown reason I thought nobody would ever notice. Boy, did I get a shock when Aunt Felicity called me in to her parlour a few days later. I had been downstairs, running in the hallway in a pair of socks, sliding on the marble floor, pretending I was ice-skating. My Aunt was hosting her weekly game of Bridge, and there were three other ladies there, all as old as my Aunt, dressed in expensive clothes and wearing lots of jewellery. " 'Here he is, my sister's boy', she introduced me. 'I have him for the Summer - er, how long does Summer run for nowadays, Mrs van Halen?' "The lady my Aunt spoke to looked even richer. 'Ten weeks, I believe, Mrs Carson', she replied, then looked me up and down as though I was an impertinent servant. My Aunt gave out a little shocked gasp on hearing that news, but her dismay did not register with me at the time. 'Ten weeks! Goodness gracious me! I have already had the housemaid change his bedsheets three times in three days! The laundry bills alone will send me to the poor house! Every morning I have found his...er, creamy issue...all over! I had no idea boys were so...copious! And he is always so - so...rampant! Even in daylight hours!' "I had only a faint notion that she was talking about me. In those days it was considered grossly impolite for children to listen to the conversations of adults, so that adults were accustomed to talking about children, their own and others', as though they were absent, even when they were well within earshot. At that point, Mrs van Halen summoned me to her side. " 'Stand here boy, and don't move', she commanded, and I obeyed immediately. Not only were these people rich, and therefore powerful, but they were adults, and I guess back then most well-raised children accorded all adults the same inherent respect and obedience as they would their own parents. "Mrs van Halen pulled the waistband of my shorts and underpants outwards and peered inside. My ever-present erection popped out, naturally, but I did not recoil. It was like being examined by a doctor. I remember she made a disapproving sound, like 'Hmph!', then spoke to my Aunt. 'Felicity, my dear, you have, in your generosity, taken on more than you are capable of. But never fear, your friends are here to help you'. The other two ladies smiled and nodded at this. 'I will take over the management of your nephew for the Summer. I know you would do the same for me. It's only fitting, after all, as I have a son myself, and you are so, so lucky not to have any of your own. But it has left you without the necessary practical knowledge of dealing with...boys'. Mrs van Halen said this last word with a disdainful reluctance, as though she was admitting to voting Democrat or something equally repugnant. "It never occurred to me that my Aunt might stick up for me and insist that I stay with her, creamy issue and all. After all, Mrs van Halen had spoken, and she was clearly unused to being contradicted. She was an adult, and she had experience with children that my Aunt lacked. I was to learn later that her own son spent fifty one and a half weeks a year at a Military Academy, as Mrs van Halen had no interest in having him live anywhere near her at all. She sent me on an errand to her house which was next door, but a good ten minutes' walk away. " 'Boy', she said to me, 'you are to go to my house, which adjoins this one, and knock at the door. My husband, Mr van Halen, should be home from the yacht club at this time. Tell him I require one pair of the Arcadia briefs from my second drawer. He will know what I mean. Bring the item back here and don't dawdle'. I glanced at my Aunt, who nodded frantically in acquiescence, and ran downstairs to put my shoes on. I half walked, half ran to the next mansion, hoping that Mrs van Halen would not think I had 'dawdled' on the way. Mr van Halen was indeed at home, as he answered the door and listened to my relayed instructions. He looked a good deal younger than Mrs van Halen - but I just put their age disparity down to the fact that the rich are different to other people. I waited in the foyer while he retrieved the garment for me, then legged it back to Aunt Felicity's. " 'These are perfect for his requirements, my dear', Mrs van Halen declared, holding up a pair of sheer ladies' underwear with a thickly padded gusset at the front. My Aunt nodded, smiling with relief. Turning to me, Mrs van Halen said 'Now, strip, boy'. You have to remember, Jeremy, that when I was a lad, if an adult told you to do something, you did it without question, even something as personal as that. I started taking my shirt off when she stopped me. 'No, no, not the shirt, boy, the trousers', she ordered, as though it should have been obvious. I obediently pulled my pants and underwear down and stepped out of them. My erection had softened during my run next door, but being let out of its confinement it started to rise up again. Mrs van Halen held the briefs out for me to step into, and pulled them up my thighs, carefully avoiding any contact with my now hard dick. When they were in place, she pulled my shirt up to my armpits and turned me in place to display me to the other three ladies. 'You see, girls', she instructed, 'even the most rigid member is tamed by the Arcadia'. And it was true - my tent was now merely a ridge, as all four of the women could plainly see. " 'Mr van Halen and I will occupy young-' at this point it occurred to Mrs van Halen that she didn't know my name. To cover any embarrassment, my Aunt piped up 'Martin', and Mrs van Halen glided on as if nothing had happened. '-Martin at our home, and you may rest easy. Boy, go pack your valise, and wait for me downstairs' Jeremy squirmed a little in Martin's lap, but showed no signs of getting bored with the story. He particularly enjoyed the part when Martin had to pull his pants down in front of the old women. Boy, had he ever been there and done that with his own mother! "So, you went to stay with Mrs van Thingy?" he asked. Martin nodded. "I had no say in the matter. Children in those days never did. We were at the disposal of our parents or guardians, or police, or teachers, or any nearby adult. The funny thing was, we never really noticed - I guess as long as we got three squares and a bed, it didn't matter". "What was it like at the rich lady's place?", Jeremy asked, urging Martin to continue his narrative. "Well, after I had packed my suitcase and waited in my Aunt's foyer for twenty minutes, Mrs van Halen came downstairs. Even though she only lived next door, we were picked up by her driver in a big black car, and driven less than half a mile to her house. Mr van Halen greeted me at the door with a handshake and a wink, saying I would have a great time while I was there. He showed me to my room and helped me unpack. I went exploring again, not caring that my mother now probably didn't know where I was. My Aunt knew, and that was sufficient. "The first indication I had that staying with Mr and Mrs van Halen was not going to be anything like staying with my Aunt came at dinnertime. A little bell rang to announce that dinner was prepared, and the three of us assembled at a dining table that would have comfortably seated twenty people. Mrs van Halen said to her husband, 'Please examine Martin's Arcadias, dear. He suffers from excessive discharge, according to his Aunt'. She inclined her head at me, indicating that I should get up and go to Mr van Halen. Of course, I did so, wondering what Mr van Halen would do. It didn't take long for me to find out. He put his hands on my waist and turned me so my back was to his wife, then put one hand down the front of my shorts, inside the fancy briefs, feeling my cock. Naturally, it sprang to attention right off. He groped it for a few seconds, then pulled his hand out, reporting to his wife that everything was fine. Jeremy was shocked, which is saying something, given his experiences with his own mother. "You just let him feel your...er, dick? When it was hard? In front of his own wife?" Martin made a little gesture of indifference with his shoulders. "It was a different time. None of the boys my age knew anything about molesters or pedophiles back then. Sure, some boys were interfered with against their will from time to time, but the details were always hushed up. As far as I knew, Mr van Halen was only doing what any father would have done. I'd never had a father - how would I know any different?" "So what happened next", Jeremy asked, clearly keen to keep the story going. "Well, we ate dinner. Afterwards, I watched some television - a treat for me because there were a lot more channels than we had at home - then Mrs van Halen declared it was my bedtime. She told me to go on up, and that Mr van Halen would be along later to check on me. About half an hour later Mr van Halen came into my bedroom. He didn't knock, but he did call my name from the doorway to check if I was awake. Of course I was - first night in a strange house, and all. He pulled the sheets down to my knees. 'I'll just check how you're going', I remember him saying. I was lying on my side, and he sat on the bed behind me. His hand reached around my waist and dived under the waistband of the Arcadias, grabbing my cock, which had been stiff since I got into bed. I heard him say 'Oh, yes, good boy', as he stroked me up and down. Before I could shoot off, he stopped. 'I'll come back in the morning, to see how you went in the night. Be good', he whispered, then left. Somehow, I got to sleep, too afraid to jerk off, wondering what would happen in the morning. "What did happen?" Jeremy asked, showing Martin he was following the story. "Well, it was only just light when he came in. No knock, like the night before. I was on my back, half asleep. My morning wood was restrained by the Arcadias, but Mr van Halen just peeled them down my thighs and it popped right up. He didn't inspect the briefs at all, he just went straight to work on my dick, rubbing it up and down and making noises like 'Mmm' and 'Aah'. Within a minute I shot off all over my pajama shirt. I was worried that Mr van Halen would be disgusted with me, but he just said 'Good boy. That's your reward for not soiling your briefs'. He ruffled my hair, and said I could throw the pajama top in the laundry basket, and he would see me at breakfast in three hours. Jeremy looked up at me with a kind of amazement mixed with disbelief. "You let him jack you off? You just lay there?" Martin thought for a moment. "Well, maybe it sounds a bit lame, but back then, a child didn't dare question anything an adult did. That included what Mr van Halen did to me. And it wasn't as though I hated it - I guess I didn't think too much of anything but the feelings. And they were great!" Jeremy snuggled down a bit further in Martin's embrace. He was clearly not interested in moving off the man's lap anytime soon. "What happened next?" he asked. "Well, breakfast was a lot later than I was used to, about nine o'clock. Back home, Mom would have said that half the day was gone by nine o'clock. We sat in the same positions at the big table as the previous night, and after we had eaten, Mrs van Halen suggested to me that I should find something to amuse myself for the day, as both she and Mr van Halen had business to attend to. "Mrs van Halen called her driver and took off in the black limo, leaving me with Mr van Halen. I went exploring, checking out every room in the house, and it seemed everywhere I went, I bumped into him. I guess I thought his 'business' must have been to look after the house. He always had a smile for me, or a pat on the head, sometimes a little rub on the butt. By lunchtime, I was famished, and we ate at the big table again. Just the two of us. He said he'd better check on me again, so I dutifully got up and stood by his chair. I was still hard from all his touches and winks throughout the morning. He smiled at me, then pulled the waist of my shorts out and groped me, just like he did that morning. He made the same remarks as before while he rubbed my penis up and down, things like 'ooh, you're so horny, Jeremy', and 'you really need this, I can tell', all of which I believed, of course. I got to thinking that I really was an exceptionally oversexed teen, and that I somehow needed him to take care of my erotic urges. I shot off all over his hand, but he just smiled and wiped up with a napkin and told me I was a good boy, and to go play, and he would see me at dinner. "Mrs van Halen had returned by six o'clock, when we sat down for the evening meal. Just like the night before, she ordered her husband to check on me at the table. Again, I got up and went to stand beside him, I suppose because I thought it was expected of me. Mrs van Halen looked away as Mr van Halen pulled my shorts and the Arcadias down to my knees and felt all around my crotch, caressing my balls while sliding the other hand up and down my crack. He whispered all sorts of sexy stuff to me while he played with my dick, which had stiffened up as soon as dinner started. He didn't bring me off, but he said I should wait for him to come see me after I went to bed, and not to wear any clothes. Martin felt Jeremy twitch in his lap on hearing this. "He told you to go to bed...naked?" "Oh, yes, I remember it as clear as day. 'You can leave your Arcadias off tonight, Martin, and I'll come up after you go to bed and give you your reward. You've been a very good boy, and it's going to be a special night for you', he told me". "What did you think was going to happen?" asked Jeremy, stifling a yawn. "Well, looking back, I don't exactly recall what I thought. I suppose I thought he was going to jerk me off again", Martin replied. "So, did you do it? Go to bed naked, I mean?" "I know it sounds pretty sleazy now, but parents, or adults in general, often used to give their kids some weird directions, and expect them to be carried out. So I did. After about an hour of TV, I went to my bedroom, undressed down to my skin, got under the bedclothes, and waited. Looking back, I guess it was a kind of test - Mr van Halen was trying to find out just how compliant I would be. "I think the fact I was naked under the sheets when he came into my room, he took as willingness on my part, because he came out with a lot of encouragement and praise when he drew back the blankets and saw my bare body, just lying there on the bed. 'Ooh, good boy', and 'you're hot tonight, Jeremy' and 'my sexy little stallion', that kind of thing. Needless to say, I was stiff again. He took off his robe - he was naked underneath - and climbed in behind me. The next thing he did I'll remember 'til the day I die: he put his dick between my thighs, and started humping me. He also reached over and held my cock, and rubbed it in time with his thrusts. All the time, he kept up his whispers of...seduction, I guess. Stuff like 'ooh, Jeremy, you're so ready for this', and 'your cock needs a good rub tonight, it feels so hot' "I shot all over the sheets, and Mr van Halen shot too - I think he brought me off at the same time as himself; I could feel his hard cock throbbing between my thighs - then he left me alone to get to sleep. Jeremy yawned. Martin's story had aroused him, but it was a long time in the telling. So far, Martin had not made a single move to do anything sexual with him, and, remembering Willi's account of his experience with his uncle, Jeremy took Martin's hand, that had been resting on his stomach, and repositioned it on his crotch, so that Martin would have no doubt that he wanted to do 'stuff'. "When was the first time he...you know... did it to you - properly?", he asked, resting his own smaller hand on his new uncle's larger one (to keep it there). Martin sighed. He was delighted that Jeremy had moved his hand downwards- it inspired him to continue his narrative. "it was a few days after that night he got on the bed with me. It was a turning point in my sex life, looking back. Mr van Halen had been feeling me up and groping me pretty much every chance he got, aided and abetted by Mrs van Halen, who kept asking him to check my briefs. One dinnertime, she said I looked 'restive', and needed checking. He obliged, when I left my seat and stood next to him, giving my dick a sensuous rub as he did so. He whispered 'You're really horny tonight, you need it bad - I'll come to your room after dinner - no need to wear your pajamas'. All through dinner I could think of nothing else except what might happen. I thought it would be the same as previous nights when he had come into my room. But it turned out to be very different. "Mr van Halen called my name from the door, as usual. He took his robe off at the doorway - I could see his big dick sticking straight out, in the dim light from the hallway. It looked huge to me, but I guess it was normal sized. He took something from the pocket of his robe before he draped it over a chair, then came to the side of the bed. He pulled my sheet and blanket back, and started in with the sexy talk - about how horny I looked, how much I needed sex, how he would make me happy - 'scream with pleasure' were his exact words, I think - then he lay down behind me. He pulled one of my legs up so my knee almost touched my chin, then unscrewed the tube he must have taken from his robe pocket, and squeezed some stuff right onto my asshole, which was exposed by having my leg up. Jeremy gasped. Although he kind of knew what Martin was going to say, it was still a shock to hear it. He was also starting to get a little impatient with Martin's lack of action in his lap. His big hand just lay there, on top of the fly of Jeremy's undies. The boy decided to make his desires clear - hadn't Willi told him that sometimes uncles needed to be led along? - by pulling out the waistband of his underwear and depositing Martin's hand inside, right on top of his small but quite hard penis. Now, that ought to get his motor running! Martin did indeed notice Jeremy's childish attempt at seduction, and enjoyed the feel of the boy's smooth hot tool under his palm, but he felt a need to get the whole story out or else he might never have a chance as good as this one to verbalise it. "The stuff from the tube made my hole kind of numb - I think it was some kind of haemorrhoid ointment - so it didn't hurt a lot when Mr van Halen put his knob at my hole and pressed. I can still recall the feeling; it was like nothing I'd ever felt. He kept up his whispers in my ear as he pushed in further. Pretty soon I could feel his hairs on my butt; he was all the way in. I remember he grunted a lot, like he was out of condition. He rubbed my dick at the same time as he pumped his into me - 'drilling me', he called it. He had a whole bunch of names for sex that he used. They all sounded rather tradesmanlike, which made a funny kind of contrast to his obviously wealthy lifestyle. He would say he 'drilled' me, or he 'nailed' me, or 'screwed' me, or 'hammered' me. "So he did it more than once?" Jeremy piped up, pushing his dick into Martin's palm at the same time. "Well, it surprised me too - I guess I thought that once he finally 'did it' to me, that his interest in me would fade. Boy, was I wrong! It only made him randier! After that first night, when he only lasted about five minutes before bringing me off and then shooting off in my bum, he wanted it more and more! I guess he wasn't getting a lot of sex from Mrs van Halen at that time". "Have you got any pictures of yourself at that age?" Jeremy asked, taking his hand off Martin's in case the man wanted to get up and find some photos. Martin carefully withdrew his hand from Jeremy's underwear as he answered. "I've never shown anyone these - but I've got some pictures that Mr van Halen took of me while I stayed at his house. I'll go get them". As soon as he left the room, Jeremy pulled his underwear all the way off. "Surely he'll get the message now", he thought. Martin returned to the living room with an old-style photo album, and wearing only boxer shorts - he had decided to 'get comfortable', since Jeremy was pretty clearly interested in fooling around. When he saw his new nephew sitting on the couch nude, he understood that he had guessed correctly. "Wow, I've got a centrefold model for a nephew - what a body!", he remarked, making Jeremy grin. "Come and sit here so I can sit on your lap again, uncle, and show me your pictures', Jeremy ordered, and like a good uncle, Martin complied. This time there was no need for pretense - Martin's hand went straight for Jeremy's boner as the boy nestled into position on his lap. "That feels nice', the boy murmured, as Martin began a steady stroke of the boy's three-incher. "I forgot to mention-", Martin remarked, "-the fee for looking at these pictures is...a kiss!". He grinned down at the boy whose tool he was caressing, and was delighted when Jeremy stretched his face up to lock lips with him. "Keep the change", the boy answered cheekily, now very comfortable with the man. "So, make with the happy snaps!". Martin opened the heavy book to a spread of four photos of himself as a young teen, wearing white polo shirt and shorts, with a yellow headband to keep his hair our of his eyes. "You looked a bit like that Aussie tennis guy - I've seen a TV program about him when he was a kid", Jeremy observed. "Er, you mean Rafter?" Martin suggested. "No, not him, the one that's still playing now. Little guy, blond hair. Married the chick from the soapie?" "Oh, er, Hewitt", Martin guessed. "Yeah, that's him. Boy, you were pretty cute then", Jeremy complimented. "Mr van Halen certainly thought so. This was taken on his private tennis court". Martin blushed, remembering those times. Jeremy picked up on it. He had plenty of practice reading his mother's moods. "What is it? Did this picture bring back memories?" Martin chuckled, and flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want - I didn't mean to embarrass you", the sensitive boy added. "No, it's alright. It probably would be a good lesson for you to hear it. Maybe give you an idea of what it was like at the van Halen's. Mr van Halen and I played tennis almost every day, mostly after lunch. One day Mrs van Halen announced at the breakfast table that she was going out for the morning, and that 'you two boys', as she called Mr van Halen and I, should play some tennis while she was gone. It seemed like a fair idea to me, so I went to my room and changed - into the clothes you can see in the photo - and we walked to the tennis court at the back of the house. "Mr van Halen was usually an excellent player, much better than me, but somehow, that day, his shots were a bit off. He'd have me beaten, but then send his passing shot wide enough to be out. His lobs were a tiny bit too deep, his drop shots just hitting the net. Before I knew it, I was winning four games to love. Then he came up to the net and suggested we make the game more interesting. 'Whoever loses a service game, loses a piece of clothing', he said, and I, in my innocence, agreed, thinking the game would continue the same way it had begun. "He served next, and lost the game. He took off his shirt. I was winning five-love. Only one more game to take the set - we usually only played one set. I served next, and somehow, gradually, Mr van Halen's luck turned. His lobs fell in. He returned all my serves. Even when he hit the top of the net, the ball dropped onto my side, not his. I lost the game. Following his lead, I took off my shirt. He won the next game, too, and now my lead was cut to five-two. "Running around without a shirt seemed to have an effect on me, especially as I could see Mr van Halen's bare chest across the net. Not that I thought he looked sexy or anything - he just looked...muscular, I suppose, and it felt a bit daring to be playing shirtless. Anyway, the harder I tried, the more mistakes I made, and I lost that game, too. I looked at Mr van Halen - he just raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to meet the conditions of our wager. Reluctantly, I unzipped my shorts and took them off, throwing them to the side of the court. All I had on now was my shoes and socks, and my undies, which had tented out in the front, I think from the weirdness of the situation. Mr van Halen won his service game, making the score five-four. "I played my heart out the next game, desperate not to lose my undies, but I couldn't keep up with Mr van Halen's returns. He ran me all over the court, sending winners down either side. I lost. I remember feeling rather foolish, having to take off my underwear, out in the open, although I knew the house was empty and we were invisible from the road. No way was I going to take my shoes off, because then I'd have no traction at all. Being exposed like that did not seem to bother my stiffie - it sprung out and stayed hard. Mr van Halen leered at me the whole time he served his next game. He won again. We never played 'advantage', only 'first to six', so he had won the set, six-five, and the match. "He came to the net to shake hands with me, but didn't let my hand go - he just kind of led me to the side where there was a small shelter, just four poles supporting a thatched roof, and a couple of seats. 'You look so sexy in those shoes, Martin', he said to me. 'Hold on to that pole, gorgeous', he urged, and I suppose I was too...I don't know, submissive, or maybe I was as horny as he told me I was, but I grabbed that pole with both hands while he entered me from behind, holding me by the hips as he pumped into me, in broad daylight. He didn't need to grab my dick and jerk me off that time - I shot off just from the sheer excitement of doing it outdoors. Then he hugged me, and picked up my clothes. I waited for him to give them back to me, but he said 'Our deal was, lose the game, lose the clothes. You lost them. Let's go in'. We walked up to the house, him shirtless, me wearing only shoes. The sensation made me hard again, a condition which was not lost on Mr van Halen. We entered the back door, which opened on to the kitchen. He hugged me and whispered 'Here, or in your bedroom?' "I was overwhelmed with horniness at what we had just done, and what we were about to do again, so I wasn't really thinking straight. I said, 'In my room', which I'm sure he took to be enthusiasm, or at least co-operation on my part. We went right to my room and Mr van Halen didn't even wait to let me take my shoes off. He put my pillows in the middle of the bed and placed me face down over them and took me from behind. This time he lasted a good twenty minutes, all the while whispering to me how good I was, how much I must enjoy being screwed, how horny I was, that sort of thing. Jeremy was affected by the story in his own way. He placed his hand on top of Martin's, and moved it up and down, to suggest to the man that he should be attending to Jeremy's needs as well as story-telling. Martin took the hint, and resumed his slow wanking of the boy's cock. "So Mr van Halen did it to you a lot?" he asked, matter-of-factly. "After that first night, we went at it like rabbits. He was always catching me off guard, so that after a few weeks I actually began to believe all the stuff he told me, that I wanted him to do it to me all the time. He would pass me in the hallway and give me a hug, then say 'Now, or tonight?'. Not even considering that I could simply have said 'Neither', I would say 'Tonight', and he would come into my room and do me after dinner. Or he would catch sight of me in the grounds and say 'Hey Martin, guess what? I've thought of a new way to do it - let's try it out', and he would take my hand and lead me to my room and lay me on my bed and give directions as we went along, like 'Wrap your legs around my waist', or 'put your heels up on my shoulders'. Jeremy sighed. He felt sorry for Martin in a way, but he envied him all those experiences. "Do you think Mrs van Halen knew what her husband was doing with you?" Martin smiled ruefully. "Not only do I think she knew, I think she planned the whole thing. I'm pretty sure she kept her own son at Military Academy to keep her husband's hands off him, and I was some kind of a consolation prize for him". Jeremy recalled something that his friend Willi told him about what he and his uncle did together. Martin was still stroking Jeremy's penis, so he figured now was as good a time to ask as any. "Did you and Mr van Halen ever...suck each other?" "He never asked me to do it to him, nor did he ever do it to me. I'm not sure why. We never kissed, either. At that age, I had absolutely no idea what kinds of things people - grown ups - did with each other, so I don't know whether sucking was frequently done or not. Maybe rich people thought it was something only poor people did. All Mr van Halen ever did was...well, fuck me". Jeremy pondered this new information. "So, have you ever...um, done any sucking? If you don't mind my asking?" "I don't mind, nephew. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I never have. But while I've got your lovely cock in my hand, I feel compelled to ask, would you like to be my first? If you don't mind my asking?" Jeremy smiled and nodded, easing himself off Martin's lap to lie back on the couch to make it easier for the man to get at his loins, and jumped nearly a foot in the air in fright when a loud knock sounded at the door. "Hello? Mister Cooper?" came the unwelcome voice of Mrs Chambers, Jeremy's Mom. "Do you want to get your clothes on? I'll stall her" Martin whispered to the boy as he rose from the couch to answer the door. Jeremy shook his head in resignation. "No need. She already knows about us - I mean, she knows I want to...do stuff with you. She sure knows what I look like naked, anyway". He brightened a little. "Maybe she'll be impressed by your hairy chest!" Martin smiled back. He had reached the door and turned the lock. "Mrs Chambers, what a pleasant surprise. Come in", he urged. "Thank you, Mr Cooper, I just called by to see how you were coping with my son. I see he's made himself at home - and what a lovely home it is! Did you decorate it yourself?" Martin smiled at the insinuation. "Well, I just picked up a few things here and there, you know how it is. Like they say, I don't know much about interior design, but I know what I like. Can I get you a coffee?", he asked, trying to make out that it was no big deal to have a naked eleven-year-old on his couch. "Only if you're having one", she replied sweetly. To her nude son, she said "Move up, Jeremy, you're taking all the room", and sat down on the sofa next to him. Jeremy glanced pointedly at the two unoccupied single seats that completed the setting, wondering why his mother didn't select one of those to sit in, but he answered his own question by guessing that she wouldn't have been able to make a fuss over him if she had. "Martin was telling me about when he was a boy, Mom", Jeremy remarked, as Martin returned to the room with mugs and spoons. "How nice for you", Mrs Chambers observed. "And your clothes just...fell off, did they?" Jeremy scowled at her. "I took them off to try to get Martin to...you know, do stuff with me, like we talked about, but he's...I don't know, a bit shy, maybe. He had some experiences when he was about my age that would surprise even you, Mom. He was telling me about them, to teach me a lesson, I guess, so I don't rush into anything". "Well, that's always good advice, I suppose", Mrs Chambers commented, nodding towards Martin. The man realised he had just been paid a reluctant compliment, and smiled back at her. "I must say, Mrs Chambers, you have done an excellent job of raising Jeremy, all by yourself. He is certainly a credit to you", Martin smooged, sipping his coffee. Mrs Chambers tossed her head back a little, as if to shake off the man's praise. "Oh, well, you know, Mr Cooper, one does one's best. Although I never quite expected to find him in a man's home wearing - well, not much more than a smile. But I'm being unfair. We've talked about this previously, and I've already sanctioned his behaviour. It's just - well, one minute they're little boys, dependent upon you for every little thing, and the next, they're nearly teenagers, almost fully grown, trying their utmost to cut you out of their lives like...like a cast-off teddy bear or favourite blankie". Jeremy rolled his eyes. Any minute now she's going to turn on the waterworks, he thought. Maybe there should be violins playing in the background. It was time to take decisive action! He got up from the sofa his mother had invaded, and stepped over to where Martin was sitting in one of the single seats. He turned towards his mother and slowly, deliberately, sank onto Martin's lap, pulling the man's arm across his bare tummy and smiling sweetly at his mother. Mrs Chambers got the message straight away. "It seems Jeremy has already made his choice. I really came over to tell him that he can stay the night if he wants, but it appears that he intends to anyway. Thank you for the coffee, Mr Cooper, and do remember what I said earlier. Jeremy, I will see you when I see you, some time tomorrow. Try not to wear out your welcome on the first day". She got up and headed towards the door. "No need to see me out', she said, but Martin and Jeremy were already kissing, oblivious to anything she might have said. "Well, I'm off then" she added, turning the doorknob, but her words were wasted on the two males, who were writhing on the chair, groping each others' crotches, panting and smooching. "Men!" she huffed quietly, and let herself out. end parrafan@ureach.com