This part does contain the content that I was worried about. Rather than spoil it for you up here, I've included an additional author's note at the end of the chapter.
Bear in mind that it is, first and foremost, a STORY. The characters are imperfect, and not necessarily the best role models for what might constitute good behavior in any similar real life situations. Allowing their story to provoke thought on best ethical practices is encouraged, but blindly presuming that the answers that fit the characters are the answers that would fit any real life circumstance is just setting yourself (and probably others) up for catastrophic, painful failures. *Don't do that.*
As always, be sure to tip your writers with verbal feedback (ursaminor@online.ee), and your hosts here at Nifty with financial feedback. Were it not for them, this site would not exist, and I'm quite sure that there are many stiflers of free speech out there who would prefer it didn't. Make sure Nifty's coffers are well armed against any potential attack.
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RECAP: Gary has received an unexpected visit from a good old friend, Mike, and his preteen son, Tom. Tom has confessed that these troubles involve his mom's disapproval of sexual experimentation with another boy, and Gary has shared with Tom that his own sexuality caused some friction with Tom's mom in the past. Their mutual disclosure has been the precursor to several sexually charged interactions between them, and after wrestling with the possible consequences, they have decided to surrender to passion and explore each other physically...
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The contact of the boy's lips on my own were the only rebuttal needed to my 'sensible waiting' argument. There is very little sense in hormones, and even less in passion, and when presented with just a taste of the forbidden fruit of the preteen's saliva-laden tongue, my sense came crashing down like a house of cards. Conflict resolved, it was an enthusiastic and committed boylover that returned the boy's overtures, gently sucking in the offered tongue and pushing firmly against the child's back, strengthening the lock in our lips. I let out an excited moan, and my cock flexed against my partner's thigh.
Tommy broke the kiss slowly after massaging my tongue with his for what felt like minutes. He stepped off of my lap as he did so and gave me this adorably serious look. "Do you trust me?"
I was all smitten puppy dog smiles at my nascent lover by that point, although, still a comedian at heart, my first instinct was to point out that it would be far too late to answer 'no' to that question after a kiss like that. The law is a funny thing – all of the legal prohibitions of the sex act are very focused on genital contact and genital penetration. That meant there technically wasn't really a law against the kiss we'd shared. However, there were plenty of catch-all laws, such as the bullshit `contributing to the delinquency of a minor' law, that they would probably try to move forward with even if we stopped right there.
In any case, both my internal debate and our shared one were over, and this didn't seem like the time to even hint at them. So that observation was rejected in favor of the response that our recent shared experiences demanded. "I remember the safe word."
Tommy grinned deviously. "Stay put, then," he demanded, "and count to fifteen. Then you have to close your eyes. I remember the border so don't worry..." He pulled the tight band of his underwear out and let it snap back into place, just like I had. "OK?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Count to fifteen and THEN close my eyes?" I repeated uncertainly, far used to that order being given in reverse. I was amused, though. Anyone who has ever tasted this forbidden fruit knows that child partners generally do know how to put the play into the word foreplay, and whatever game he was planning, I was definitely in. "One, two, three," I began, playfully taking my hands away from him and holding my eyelids open as if the count were the only thing preventing them from snapping shut.
Tommy, for his part, began gyrating his hips, never breaking eye contact with me. I eagerly licked my lips, my hands dropping to their sides by the time I reached seven. At thirteen, he started moving closer and starting to pull his shirt up over his head, and I unashamedly broke eye contact and ran my eyes all along my lover's unblemished pink skin, staring a full second at the little bulge in his underwear. At fifteen, I briefly shifted up to meet his gaze again before obligingly dropping my lids, letting the darkness envelop my vision.
For few agonizing seconds of anticipation after that, there was no sound and nothing but the awareness of his presence in the room. Then I felt his little hands tugging at the top of my shorts, pulling them down just enough for my painfully engorged cock to be freed from its confines. I smirked for a moment as I realized he never actually said he would respect the border, solely that he knew where it was. I allowed his hands to succeed at their task, half-expecting that the next sensation I would feel would be the boy's lips wrapped around the head of my turgid member. Surreally, as hot as that concept was, I found myself being just as proud at his wit as I was eager for his touch.
Sure enough, the boy didn't disappoint. A warm, wet sponge that could only be his prepubescent tongue slid up the front of my shaft to the head, where it swirled around twice before I felt the divine and unmistakable sensation of small preteen lips closing around me, enveloping my sex within them. Even being fairly sure it was coming (yes, pun intended again), the sensation still caused a sharp intake of breath and for a moment my eyes involuntarily flew open, as if my brain simply had to confirm that my adorable little nephew was the one performing fellatio at the advanced level of a sailors' dock whore. Immediately, however, I re-closed them, fearful that getting caught peeking was going to somehow make this treat end. In equal parts relief and concern, I realized that this absolutely could NOT have been the first adult cock to grace this young orifice. I'm not exactly huge, coming in at just below the adult average, but unless Marky was somehow one of the most well-endowed preteens on the planet, there was no way Tommy had learned his technique just from working over that cute little blond in the picture.
And technique, this boy definitely had. His teeth were well out of the way, he was breathing steadily through his nose, he was manipulating my shaft with his hand just well enough to control the rhythm of where he wanted his mouth to end up on it. And was he... was he trying to deep throat me? Yes, I could feel the advance of his gullet against my cockhead, enough to be fairly sure he hadn't had his tonsils removed. There are gifted cocksuckers in this world, but even the most prodigious ones would not be capable of displaying this kind of proficiency on first contact. Someone had trained him well.
I pushed the concern aside, for the moment. For one thing, given the circumstances, it was more than a tad hypocritical. For another, I very much wanted to focus on the great gift this boy was giving me. I felt around for where his shoulder should be, eager to offer the encouragement of my touch as I leaned back and lets out a sound that was equal parts sigh and moan. Surprisingly, when I found it, it was still covered in the soft cloth of his shirt, which he apparently hadn't actually removed.
Just before he would've swallowed my cockhead completely, I felt Tom pull off my fleshy tube. An audible `pop' echoed through the otherwise silent room. "You can open your eyes now," he declared. "I just didn't want you to stop me." He then quickly went back to his work, engulfing me easily until I could feel the skin on his face rubbing up against my pubic hair.
I did open my eyes at that point, moving my other hand to the top of his head so I could run my fingers through his hair. "What was that about knowing my border, then? Unless you just wanted to make the most amazing case ever for illegal immigration." Of course, I didn't expect an immediate response, since my young lover's mouth was currently very much otherwise occupied.
Occupied and extremely pleasurable. Tommy's soft, tight throat was contracting around the sides of my dick as he started to increase his bobbing motion up and down on the shaft. He squeezed his hand – no, both hands now - around the only inch at the base that wasn't being slobbered by his saliva, and every time he pumped back, his tongue swirled around the head and upper shaft.
What really made my body shudder all over, though, was when he made eye contact with me, my dick still protruding from his stretched and gaping mouth. The most adorable, needy, somehow-still-innocent expression was conveyed in those eyes. He was an absolute master of fellatio and yet he was also still a vulnerable, eager-to-please young boy, seeking a sign of his lover's approval.
I'm sure the way my body shuddered spoke volumes, but I reinforced it with a loud groan, tilting my head back because another moment of eye contact was going to make me fire off right then and there. "Umm," I murmured, clearly having a little difficulty speaking now, "I'll, umm... I'll.. OHHHH... I'll squeeze your shoulder to warn you. Your choice. W... won't.. UGH... won't be long..."
At the mention of me getting close, Tommy immediately pumped his little hand up and down even quicker, the other one going to my balls and applying just the slightest bit of pressure. I started thrusting forward a little bit, and he moved his hand out of the way completely, giving me full control to facefuck him over the plateau. Lewd slurping noises filled the room as he bobbed up and down expertly in time with my thrusts. He showed no interest at all in pulling away.
Still, a gentleman always follows through on a warning, no matter how sure he might be of his partner's intent. "Tommy... ughh... oh FUCK kiddo..." As I felt the inevitable build up in my shaft, I held back one final second, squeezing Tom's shoulder frantically, just in case.
Tom moaned in response to my squeeze, and the vibrations in his throat as he did so were enough to push me over the edge. And what a cliff to fall off of! Cognizant of what precious little real estate existed in that youngster's willing orifice, I was careful to put in just the minimal thrust with each jet of warm, salty, protein-filled adult sperm that I fired into the prepubescent tunnel surrounding me. Each backward thrust was a bit further than the forward one; I desperately wanted the last big glob to rest on this boy's taste buds! Normally I'd dribble out maybe two or three squirts, but this time, five pure bulletloads shot off, each accompanied with an involuntary gasp of pleasure. I don't think I'd cum this hard since Kyle's thirteenth birthday party. Experienced or not, he understandably sputtered a bit as the last three ejaculates gathered in his little mouth, doing his best to swallow it all down.
Finally, spent, I let go of Tommy entirely and fell back, looking down at him. His eyes were a little watery and semen was dribbling out of the right side of his mouth (which was so hot I'm pretty sure a sixth shot ran down my spent member), but otherwise he looked quite pleased with himself. His little red underwear was certainly as tented as ever. "Holy shit, Tommy," I murmured, realizing that his detested childhood nickname had instantly become my pet name for him the moment he kissed me. I was vaguely aware that I might have to explain the nuance of that to him at some moment, but this definitely wasn't the moment for it. "What the fuck was I thinking wanting to wait a second for that," I exclaimed in disbelief.
"I dunno," the boy exclaimed smugly. "I almost didn't think you'd let me have you! But you only ever said the borders were MY underwear for today, so I didn't break any of your rules!" He stuck his tongue out at me, cum still sticking to it on one side. Dear God, some of it was even smeared over the top of his shirt.
I laughed wholeheartedly, both at my juices all over him and in response to his flimsy technicality. The post-cum exhaustion was fading fast, just through second-hand exposure to the devilish preteen's youthful exuberance. "Well be that as it may, you can't just invade sovereign territory like that and then expect the treaty to still hold. An invasion like that can't go unanswered!" With that I lunged to grab the lad's waist, pulling him into an embrace, eagerly leaning his mouth forward in the hopes of getting a taste of my own cum off those angelic lips.
Tom leaned right back into my lips and eagerly made out with me, his tongue dancing in my mouth, sharing the metaphorical fruits of his labor. After enjoying each other like that for a minute or two, he broke the kiss and finally did take off his soiled shirt, leaving him standing there in front of me in just his cute tight red bike underpants. "I think my shirt caught some of your stuff... there was so much!! I'm sorry I couldn't swallow it all."
It was on the tip of my tongue to offer some reassuring words regarding the limits of preteen semen swallowing capacity, but then I recalled the movie that broke the ice between us, and made the conscious choice to put my responsible adult role on the shelf for now and come back to it later. Instead, I glanced down at the shirt on the floor and then gave the boy my best deadpan, fearsome glare. "No excuse, Tommy. I think perhaps you should be punished." With a glance down to the tented underwear, I looked back up, raising one small brow in order to subtly indicate that I was playing a game here. "Strongly punished."
Tom smiled subtly for a moment to let me know he got it, and then took on the part eagerly, trying to look like a scared little boy standing next to a broken vase. He wasn't going to be in line for an Academy Award any time soon, but it wasn't the worst fear-act I'd ever seen either. "Um, um... OK Uncle. What is my punishment?" He looked down at the floor like a shamed dog would, and I began to get excited at the roleplay possibilities.
I broke character for a moment and grinned broadly, but since he was looking down he likely didn't notice, and I quickly returned to my serious taskmaster play. "Well," I remarked, standing up, "first I'm going to have to take care of the evidence here, as it were." I scooped up the cum-stained shirt from the ground. "While I'm putting this in the wash, I'll need you to head upstairs into your room. In the top drawer of the armoire you'll find something and I think you'll know what to do with it. Just be very careful with the bed post."
Tom nodded and started to run towards the stairs until he remembered that he was supposed to be dreading punishment, turning it abruptly into a condemned man's death shuffle. At least until he was out of sight – then the noise of his feet hitting the stairs rapidly betrayed his eagerness again. God, what a boy.
I headed over to the laundry and took my time putting the cum-stained shirt in the washer, imagining the look on the boy's face when he opened the armoire and found two long strings of twine rope inside. There were a lot of toys in the sugar glider cage that required suspension from various heights so that they could jump and play around in there, and the slim twine rope that I used for that job should have the reach and comfort of excellent bed bonds. Post-orgasmic bliss still wrapped around me like a warm blanket as I imagined the scene, the nearly naked boy upstairs, and what was about to happen to him. What he WANTED to happen to him. It was nearly enough to make me hard again, which would be impressive. When was the last time I'd had a three minute refractory period? When I wasn't much older than Tommy, probably. Certainly Kyle had complained in recent years about my need to wait at least an hour between romps between the sheets, which was surprising, considering that I was more than willing to focus on him multiple times while I recovered. You'd think that would be ideal for a supposedly straight boy.
Thinking about Kyle, and Kyle's differences to Tommy, made me wonder about what I was doing. Kyle and I had never messed with bondage; indeed, I had no real experience with it at all. My safeword, so called, was mostly a hypothetical, although I had implemented it with boys I'd been with in order to make sure they could convey at a moment's notice if things were progressing in a direction they were uncomfortable with. An actual bondage context, with a boy no less? A complete unknown.
Which was frightening, because I really had no idea if adding that element could be particularly scarring to a young boy, but at the same time in an ironic way it sort of levelled the playing field between us. I was a sexually experienced man, and Tommy (while clearly not inexperienced, I reminded myself) was still on an adolescent journey of self-discovery, but in this aspect we would both be entering presumably virgin territory.
Laundry started, I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Kyle. "cupid scored a critical hit" I wrote, putting the phone back down. Then I made a point of slowly, deliberately, moving up the stairs, taking each step one at a time. I relied on the creek of my weight against each step to provide the arousal of anticipation for Tommy. The incoming text notification on my phone went off four or five times on the way up, which amused me endlessly. Poor Kyle would have to use his imagination for the sordid details – I was tasked with making reality better than whatever he could come up with.
As I took the last step, I called out in a sing-song voice, "Myyyy, I wonder if my guest is comfortable on the bed!" It was a fine line I was going for, tonally speaking: part slasher-movie serial killer and part humoring a toddler who thinks he's doing well in hide and seek by standing behind a thin floor lamp. But I thought I nailed it pretty well.
Which was why I was more than a little concerned when I stepped back through the door to find Tommy sitting innocently on the bed's edge, holding the twine in hand, looking nervous and confused up at me. It was almost enough for me to break character and make sure he was okay, but I quickly reminded myself that I hadn't heard the safety word. For all I knew, the confusion and nervousness were part of his roleplay.
Besides, he was still clearly straining against the confines of those adorable red bike underwear.
"I see you found what you were supposed to," I replied coyly, eyes shifting between his own sparkling green orbs and the ropes in his hands. "But you didn't use it. Tsk tsk. You're not being disobedient already, are you?"
Tommy looked up at me, his eyes widening, and spoke with a stutter that was either genuine or vaulting him closer to acting award territory. "N-no.. I would never disobey you, Uncle Gary! I'm... I'm just not sure what to do with the rope..."
Again, the stutter threatened by resolve. Going down a BDSM road with a boy for the first time was a little scary! Still, this spunky little deviant had just wholeheartedly taken my cock, so I continued to assume (hope) he was doing a good acting job. "Oh, I think you do, Tommy," I said like a disappointed taskmaster, glancing between the rope and the bedposts. "And there will have to be a penalty for lying." I stepped over and gave the boy a push to knock him back onto the bed, grabbing the ropes firmly but gently out of his hands. Tom let out a gasp of surprise, but when I saw his cock flex underneath the cloth fabric I knew I'd judged rightly. "Now, since I'm doing it, I guess it's going to be tight..."
Reassuringly, my willing captive stretched his arms out expectently towards the bed posts, his body trembling with excitement and nervousness.
This time it was my turn to acknowledge the obvious, tying my nephew's wrists first and then bringing the rope to the bedposts, where I tied tighter. Despite my threat, I didn't make them overly tight on him, although I certainly did my best to ensure they wouldn't come loose. "Looks like I can do whatever I want now, mmmm?" I took one finger and ran it from Tommy's neck slowly down his chest, to his soloplexus. "WhatEVER I want..."
I felt the boy's frame shiver under my finger, and damned if I didn't get hard again after all. Amazing, how intoxicatingly contagious a preteen's libido can be. He wiggled a bit, and I could tell I was actually tickling him somewhat as well. Thinking about the tickle-trust of his legs on my lap earlier, I decided it would enhance the experience to break that trust a bit, raise the stakes. So one finger became four as I lightly traced figure-eights around the boy's nipples, careful not to actually touch them yet. The fingers zig zagged in an attempt to maximize the tickle torture.
The boy – MY boy - squirmed and wiggled and squealed as I tickled him, actually testing the restraints a bit and finding that indeed, he could not lower his arms or protect himself. (Notably, he didn't try to kick me away with his still very much untied feet.) "I'll do whatever you want!" he exclaimed between squeals. "Please, no more tickling, no more!" His undies continued twitching, making me fear that he might have an orgasm from this light contact alone! Couldn't have that, so I acquiesced.
As I did, however, I plastered a fake puzzled expression on my face. "No more? But I thought little boys liked being tickled? Huh." I sat down on the bed. "Maybe it's where I was doing the tickling," I suggested, taking my earlier one finger and placing it at the waistband of the boy's underwear, running it just underneath the flap (this time I pressed a bit more firmly to avoid actual tickling). "Or maybe," I suggested, leaning in right to Tommy's face, "it's what I'm tickling with." With that, I leaned down and started to run my tongue along the boy's tender flesh, first from the bottom of his neck to the tip of his chin, and then in the same figure eight circles on his chest, still avoiding the nipples.
Tommy's squeals were replaced with little high-pitched whimpering sounds as my finger brushed around near his hard dick and teased him with my tongue. "Mmphhhhhn..." he moaned. My eyes were on his nipples, of course, but from the way the bed moved, I bet that if his bindings had been metal instead of hemp, they would have rattled. I made a mental note to take him to Home Depot for chain shopping, eagerly imagining how he would handle his throbbing erection in the store as he helped to purchase his own restraints. For bonus points, after telling him what they'd be for, I decided I would have him lead the interactions with the clerk in asking for them.
With those lurid thoughts running through my brain, I decided it was time to take things up a notch. I dove onto the Tommy's pointed little left nipple, suckling on it gently. My hand stopped fiddling with the waistband of his underwear and instead slid up, resting on the preteen's right hip.
Poor little Tommy yelped at my ministrations, thrusting his hips forward as though he could somehow maneuver himself to stab me with that little nail protruding out of his remaining clothing.
Well, I couldn't let that kind of presumption go unanswered! Without warning, I lightly bit the boy's nipple tip, using my hand to forcefully push his hip down and keep his thrusts at bay. "Uh uh," I murmured.
He yelped from the pain and pleasure radiating through him, tensing, and for a moment I again worried I was taking it a bit too far. But then his voice, dripping with lust and submission, carried across the room. "Ohhh! I'll be a good boy, I promise!"
I pulled off of his nipple, flicking my tongue along the bitten spot as I looked up to take in his face. His nose was scrunched up and his grin was ear-to-ear, and he was looking to his right – looking, as it turned out, at the mirror in the still open armoire, displaying the scene for him in all its glory. My own cock twitched at the sight of how much he was enjoying this, but I kept my voice in character, sounding demure and almost disinterested. "Oh, I suppose part of it is my fault," I admitted, lowering my gaze very deliberately to his hard little spike. "After all, you must be very strained in there, mmm?"
"Y-yes," my boy insisted, a single thrust forward until he remembered the punishment for his last thrusts and abruptly stopped. "They're too tight," he cried needily, hungrily.
I looked back into his eyes. "You SURE you want me to let it out?" I slid down a bit and hooked my hands on the edges of his underwear, making an exaggerated tugging motion to the side.
"Pleeeeeeease... yes, oh, please, please take them off!" the little preteen moaned and begged, his hard dick twitching, making the obscene red tent jiggle around.
"Alright, then," I conceded, lowering the underwear slowly. I know some people find it erotic when a guy's penis stretches down with the underwear and bounces back like some errant door spring. Personally, I think that's a bit too inconsiderate for the person it's happening to, so I was careful to pull the underwear forward over the lad's penis and prevent that boomerang sensation from occurring. Once I slid the garment completely off of the sexy preteen, I took a moment to just stare at the nude form before me. I knew he wasn't circumcised – I was actually partly responsible for that, having been one of a few close friends that Mike had consulted when deciding whether or not he should be. But his cockhead was flared so much, engorged with so much blood, that I actually couldn't tell from looking at it. That's a common thing with a man, but rare for a boy, whose prepuce is usually too tightly connected to the glans to stretch back that far without the assistance of a hand. Sort of like a girl's hymen, I supposed. Similarly, it was further evidence that this wasn't his first rodeo, but it also spoke volumes of how aroused he really was, and it was that latter thought I chose to focus on. That and, of course, the undeniable beauty of the package in totality. "What a treasure, my hot little Tommy boy is. And it IS Tommy, you know... you can be Tom to the rest of the world, but in this room, with me, you're my hot little Tommy boy."
I'm not sure if the name thing even registered with him. Tommy seemed hyperfocused on the cold air in the bedroom sweeping over his exposed boy parts, which he flexed twice more before again thrusting the little snake at me, willing me to give it the attention it was due. God, did I want to.
But that would've been selfish. My boy deserved a better build up, for a better payoff. So I stood up, but I again rested my hand on the naked boy's belly, holding him down. "Uh uh, you said you were going to be a good boy, Tommy. Good boys wait for their treats." I held up his underwear with my other hand. "Now, what do we do with this? Can't just throw it on the ground, that's not good manners." I sniffed it on the crotch area. "Mmmm, what an intoxicating smell. Good for you that it smells clean."
I placed the underwear on Tommy's head, making sure that the band covered his eyes. Clearly not expecting this, he groaned cutely in protest, "Hey, I can't see!" It was becoming apparent to me that this boy had a gift for stating the obvious. "What are you going to do?" The way he asked the question was a delightful cacophony of arousal, excitement, and just a twinge of fear – but the good kind, the kind one experiences when about to enter a haunted house.
I stood up and backed away from him. "Eventually, anyway." I smiled as his body trembled again. "First, I think I'll get some whipped cream and chocolate syrup to put on you." I was halfway out the door when an idea occurred to me that was too juicy to pass up. "Hmm... wouldn't do to leave you without company, though."
I had been joking with him before - sugar gliders wouldn't actually bite a penis. However, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the cage opening to release them, his first instinct was to try to cover himself. Of course, with his hands tied, that effort was futile. As I left the room, I chose not to reassure my dear nephew of his genitals' safety. "Play nice, guys."
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Author's Note: So after the choice of movie from Chapter 3, the light bondage direction that the story took in this chapter and the following one seemed like an obvious, natural progression of the roleplay. Neither my friend nor myself has ever experienced bondage in our actual sex lives, but hopefully we did the basic concepts justice.
I can't say this strongly enough, though: don't try this at home, not with a real boy. Most modern societies argue that any kind of sexual contact with a boy is inherently damaging at worst, and simply irresponsible at best, given that their perceptions of such experiences can change radically after they grow up. In a world where teen suicide rates are the result of extreme isolation and loneliness, I debate the wisdom of withholding connections from people just when they might be so desperately needed. However, "advanced" sexual expression, where any kind of pleasure/pain dynamic is tested or control factors are brought into the situation, is a level where I personally feel no justification could be adequate. Yes, I do see the irony in making that argument, and if anyone wants to debate it over email, I'm happy to engage in discourse. But I did not feel in good conscience I could post this chapter without this disclaimer, so here it is.