Date: Sat, 05 Jun 2021 07:31:11 +0000 From: Mark Subject: Parental supervision 1 Sometimes you just get lucky, and this is the story of the luckiest days of my life. I've always been attracted to boys, but only sexually. Other than that, I find them boring and annoying. I would never have the patience to groom a boy, pretending to care about the tedious nonsense of his childish life in order to get sexually or romantically involved with him. Add to that the likelihood of causing harm to the child and I've always satisfied myself [sufficed] with stolen glances, porn, fantasy and guilt. It hadn't occurred to me that a boy love relationship could be simple and straightforward. David lived around the corner from me. It's a well-connected neighbourhood, with a shopping centre, train station and bus interchange five minutes walk away. David and his parents would often walk to those places and to do so they had to walk past my house. I like gardening and so I'm often in the front yard. I'd give them a friendly hello, as I gave everyone who made eye contact. Sometimes we'd chat about some local news or the weather, but we never got very deep -- I didn't know where either of David's parents worked, for example. David was always very happy to see me and sometimes launched into stories about his life or told me about things he'd learnt. I didn't think much of it, because although he was cute, at eleven years old he was a bit young for me. I knew he was slim, as boys that age often are, but I hadn't even noticed if he had a nice, well-proportioned body, or if he had a cute butt. I knew I'd start to pay attention in a year or two, but until then he was just a cute, eager face. That changed when one day I was in the garden and David came by with his parents. "I've got a present for you!" he said to me, excitedly. "For me?" "Yes!" he said, and handed a wrapped package to me. His parents must have helped him wrap it, because it had been done in some complicated way that was all held together with two bits of tape and when I undid those the tasteful wrapping paper just fell away. It was a beautiful kid leather sleeve, soft and tastefully patterned near the edges of the flap that closed it. I had no idea what it was for, although I could see that it was beautiful and expensive. "It's lovely," I said as I searched for a label on it which might tell me what it was for. "It's for your books and your iPad, because I know you like to read." "Thank you!" I said, as I pulled out two pieces of card from inside the sleeve. The first one had information about the "laptop/book sleeve" and the second was a card. This was less classy in presentation than the rest of the gift. The card was clearly from a collection of artsy cards, but I suspected it was the most garish one on the rack. Inside it said, "Dear Rob, It's always very nice to see you, Love David" with the word "very" underlined and three love hearts after his name. It was written in a very careful child's hand, which probably would have been neater if it had been written with more flow and less painstaking care. "Ok, we've really got to get going," said his mother, whose name I would have to remember or learn. "We'd love you to come for afternoon tea on Saturday. It's David's birthday. He's having his party on Friday after school, but he doesn't have anything planned for the day itself." David, who had been looking up at me with his usual eager expression, dropped his chin slightly so that he was looking at me through his eyelashes in a way that seemed almost coquettish. "I'd love to," I said. I gave her my cell phone number and said goodbye to the three of them. This time I did take notice of his body as he walked away. Both David's parents were Korean, so he had black hair and warm toned skin. His shoulders were about average for a skinny kid -- not narrow but not broad -- and his back tapered down to a perky little butt. Once again, I'm not really into eleven year olds, but it was pretty cute and as I enjoyed the view I was starting to see their appeal. He looked back at me once, and I smiled, then they went around the corner out of sight. I was left standing in my front yard, with a lot to unpack. Firstly, I should say that although David's family lived around the corner, it was all uphill from my house to theirs, which basically put them in a different income bracket to me. I lived alone in a rundown rental house next to the train tracks, they lived in a large, modern home with city views and views of the islands. On hot summer afternoons the houses on the ridge got refreshing breezes while those of us down the hill basted in our own sweat in the hot, still air. So the quality of the gift was no great surprise. I imagine that David received a generous amount of pocket money and that through some instinct of good breeding he spent it on tasteful gifts, whereas when we were his age, my brother and I would have wasted that amount of money on ugly pocket knives that fell apart after a month and candy that made us feel sick before we'd even finished eating it. What was baffling was why he'd thought to give me the gift at all and why his parents had sanctioned it. I still had the tablet/book sleeve in my hand so I pulled the card out again and looked at it. If I'd received that card from an adult, and I was attracted to them, I would have given them my number and arranged a date. Which is exactly what happened, except that David was turning twelve in three days time and I'd given my number to his mother. I went upstairs into the house and checked my phone. There was a message, "Please come at around 2:30. No need to bring anything. It's number 34. Linda" Linda! Of course, I had been told that. And with that prompt, I remembered his father's name was Jason. He had just stood there looking jolly and warm, although usually he was the chattier of the two. I suspect that she was better at getting to the point and so had taken the reins of the conversation, given the time constraints. I thought about nothing other than that interaction for the rest of the day. One interesting detail was David's comment about his choice of gift. He knew that I had a tablet (not an iPad, but a Samsung) and that I liked to read books. I never used the tablet or read on the front balcony, so he could only have seen me doing those thing through the front door, while I was lying on my living room couch reading. That suggested he'd been looking for me. I guess the act of getting the gift was itself enough evidence that he had paid attention to me. But why was he paying attention to a thirty-five year old, gay man who lived around the corner from him? Did he feel sorry for me because I was single? Had the rainbow flag I had in my window during Pride Month piqued his interest? I wrote in my journal that night, as I do most nights, and decided to dispense with the speculation and focus on the facts. The most obvious fact was that I was attracted to him. Despite his age, I was spending a lot of time imagining that soft mouth wrapped around my hard cock and his cute face grimacing as I pushed myself into his tight asshole. The second fact was that he was interested in me, if we define "interest" broadly. For some reason he found it very nice to see me. The third fact was that his parents were happy to facilitate our contact. Put together, these three facts spelled danger. Although I was attracted to boys, I never wanted to sexually assault a child. No amount of pleasure for me could ever be worth the risk of the harm that sex with children could do to them. I couldn't cut David out of my life, because I'd see him regularly and I sensed his eagerness wouldn't be easily blunted, but I could warn his parents off. I had a very easy way to do this, by buying the right gift for his birthday on Saturday. I could use that to send a very clear message that I was not a good person for their son to become involved with. I puzzled over what to buy for the next day, running through everything from knives and firearms to pornography and lube. Nothing seemed quite right and I wrote about my frustration in my journal the following evening. Everything was either too extreme and a slap in the face to Linda and Jason or too mild, with the possibility of being misconstrued. Then I had a stroke of inspiration: what I was trying to do was to warn the parents of my bad intentions, so why not just give him exactly what I wanted to? What gift would I give him if I didn't care what anyone thought? Underwear! The thought of him crammed into a nice tight pair of briefs was sexy to me, and if I ever got the chance to be alone with him, I could ask him to show them to me. I didn't ever want to get the chance to be alone with him, for his own safety, but the best way to avoid that was to sexualize the possibility as much as I could. I got online and found that there were designer boys underpants available at the department stores in town, so I planned to go in there the following day and pick some up. My cock was rock hard the whole time I was doing this research, so before I went to bed -- in fact before I did anything else -- I lay down in bed and fantasised about what I would do if I got David alone while he was wearing a nice tight pair of white briefs I'd given him. "Can you show them to me?" I'd ask, and he'd respond with a moment of confusion and shyness before saying, "Ok." I'd invite him into my bedroom, out of view of my rather public living room windows, which look out onto the street. I'd sit on the bed and he'd stand in front of me and drop his pants and I'd look at his crotch before smiling at him and saying, "I can't see them properly because of your shirt. Take that off too." He'd do what I told him and then I'd let my gaze explore his lovely smooth skin and slim body. I'd put the fingers of my right hand on the inside of his right thigh, about halfway between his knee and the pair of little balls concealed under the new white stretch cotton briefs. "Your skin is very smooth," I'd say, stroking his leg a little with my right hand. He'd smile, not quite knowing what to do and I'd say, "I like how tight they are. Turn around so I can see how they look on your butt." Obediently, he would turn around and I'd admire that perfect, petite rump encased in drum-tight cotton and moaning a little bit say, "Mmm, sexy." Then I'd make him wait a moment, facing away from me before brushing my hand appreciatively over one of his ass cheeks and saying, "They're nice and tight. You can turn around again if you like." He'd turn around and I'd immediately put my right hand on his inner thigh again, but higher this time, almost touching his underwear. I'd slide my hand into the leg of his briefs and start to play with his balls and penis, which would become erect instantly. I'd start masturbating myself in my trousers with my left hand, while pulling his penis through the leg of his underwear with my right. I imagined catching sight of his erect little member and tight balls for only a moment or two before I came, shooting a big, draining load.