(No warnings -- you know why you're here.

If you skipped part one, you missed some reasonably amusing b/b, so maybe you'll want to go back and read that first. I do plot and character development, and my stories have both beginnings and endings -- they don't just ramble on forever. This story is set in 1860s New York, which was a pretty nasty place to live, but still was a friendlier place for the likes of us.

The River is public domain, free of all copyright protection. Steal it if you are so inclined. Although the story is free, Nifty is not. Go to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html and make a tax deductible contribution.)

The River

Part Two

It was the best meal of my life up until then. It was two eggs and a big slice of bread all cooked up with the bacon in the bacon grease, and I thought I was in heaven. Wherever my mother was, I just didn't care. I had more than I'd ever dreamed of, and I felt myself feeling a little bad for those ugly boys at the Home for Boys who never stood a chance.

After my night with Charles, I was thinking that, perhaps, I might find myself doing some things that Reverend Robertson of the Home for Boys might not approve, but I didn't care. Life was delicious. Two eggs with fry bread and bacon and getting my willy sucked were just wonderful, and I wanted more. And it looked like I could have more if I just stayed a good boy, and that's all I'd ever been.

I learned to boil the kettle that morning, and to warm the teapot, and to measure and pour the tea, and to serve it to Mr. Wilder and Captain James. According to Charles, having them put their hands down my pants to feel my silk undies or just my bare bottom was nothing unusual -- and, really, it was not bad. They seemed to be reasonably gentle gentlemen, so I couldn't reasonably complain, could I?

The Captain, his hand down my pants and a bit of his finger poking into my hole that day, leaned over and put his mouth over mine. I didn't much like his big beard and mustache on my face, but he was not being mean to me, after all. I thought about if I could get used to all that hair, and then I thought about all the hair that was going to be on those grown-up cocks, as the grown-ups called them, and if I could get used to that.

Cocksucking. Fried eggs and bacon. Make up your mind.

It was not especially difficult. I didn't actually have to suck any grown-up cocks that first day on the job, but I spent a reasonable part of it sitting in Mr. Wilder's lap with his hand down my pants diddling my doodle. He was gentle, and for the most part it felt rather nice. Before I had arrived on the Kingston Queen, which was what Mr. Wilder had named our paddlewheel, nobody ever paid any attention to my doodle at all. Well, boys like attention, and so do their doodles.

It was not a hard day's work, and it was exciting watching the riverbanks go by as we made our way to Nyack and Poughkeepsie and on to Kingston, where our steamer had been built, embarking and disembarking passengers, for the most part. The freight mostly would be transferred at Albany, when we came to the junction of the Erie Canal. My job was not especially difficult, consisting mostly of brewing tea and assembling finger sandwiches, and having my little bottom stroked. I ate better than I ever could have imagined just one day earlier, and the idea of licking a big, hairy mancock seemed far less undesirable to me. Bodies crave nourishment, you know.

Well, I still thought Charles had to be a lot nicer to suck on than the excessively hirsute Captain James, but a boy has to make do with whatever life offers. Don't you agree?

..........

Had the Kingston Queen been purely a freighter, we could have been in Albany in just one day, but carrying passengers meant fairly frequent stops. Charles was not especially enchanted by the passengers he had been responsible to serve.

"Jeez," he exclaimed, "the cocks I sucked today! And the pussies I licked! You'd think them people never got nothing except when they came on board the Kingston Queen!"

Charles looked like he might have been ready to cry, so I just grabbed him and held on tight. He didn't cry on me, but it looked like he might, which was somewhat strange on account of him being that much older than me -- but nevertheless I could see he was not too happy. Me, I just got a hint of a wondering about whether the eggs and bacon were worth it.

Then Charles said, "Well, anyways, the tips was good," and showed me a fat stack of greenbacks like I never could have imagined!

"You can't tell, Thomas. Really. I'm supposed to hand all this over to Captain James, but he don't got a clue just how good I am, and how much I take in, so I stashes most of it away. And when I gets enough, I'm gone from this here riverboat and making a new life for meself."

I was amazed, but I promised not to tell, and I didn't -- not until now, when it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, it's time to tell you about my second night on the riverboat with my new best friend, Charles.

"Mr. Wilder picked you for your arse," he told me, "which means he is going to poke his cock up there pretty soon, so you got to get ready so it don't hurt too much. First you gets used to me, and that won't be too bad, because I still got a pretty little one. Then you'll get used by Mr. Wilder, which is not much worse. Captain James, now, he's got a real horse cock. He ain't fucked me so far, but his cock is so big and fat, it hurts just going in your mouth."

I already was afraid of Captain James because he was so hairy, and just his kissing me that day kind of hurt. Also, I was rather fond of Mr. Wilder, who rescued me from the Home for Boys, and was feeding me better than I'd ever eaten in my life. We'd had chicken for dinner that night, with rice and green beans, and even a pudding for dessert. Maybe, I thought, I could make Mr. Wilder love me so much he'd never share me with Captain James.

In the meanwhile, though, Charles had to start getting me used to getting boned up my little bottom. "This won't be too bad," he said. "I grabbed a little lard from the galley, so I'll go up you nice and smooth."

He rubbed some of that lard on me, then put a finger in. I remembered to relax myself from the morning, and pretty soon I was having a very lovely time. I was breathing fairly hard when he extracted his finger. "Now," he said, "I want you to push like you're making a poo, because something a bit bigger is going up there. So I pushed, and he pushed something else up there, and you probably know that something else was named "Birdie." It was fatter than his finger, but not much longer, and it didn't hurt at all. It was just wonderful.

My willy got very, very hard, and Charles reached around to it and rubbed it with the hand that still had lard on it, so it was all slippery slidey. I loved Charles so much right then, because it all felt so good, and I got all tingly again, and so did Charles. I'm pretty sure he shot his boycream up inside me, and just thinking about that made me even happier.

..........

The next morning we had ham and griddle cakes and maple syrup. I'd never had anything that sweet before, and I ate so much I think Mr. Wilder might have been wondering if I might turn into a fat boy before he got around to putting himself up inside me. I know he didn't care for fat boys, because he'd sent the boys with the big bellies out of the line. Really, though, most of them weren't fat. They were pretty skinny except for the big bellies.

We reached Albany that afternoon, and the deckhands moved the cargo going west out of the hold and onto the canal boats, and the cargo going back to the City in. I never knew what any of it was, but I guess there were things from the City they needed out in Buffalo and the Great Lakes, and things from out there they needed in the City, and that was why Mr. Wilder was rich.

I slept in his cabin that night, in a fresh pair of silk knickers, pink ones, and a lot littler than the ones I'd been wearing before. Most of my bottom showed. Mostly, I just had to lay there while he rubbed and kissed my bottom cheeks, and that wasn't too bad at all. Mr. Wilder didn't have a big beard like the Captain, just a little mustache, so it wasn't too scratchy. And it was kind of nice when he pushed my knickers aside and tickled that spot between my ballsack and my hole with his tongue.

I was remembering how I wanted to stay with Mr. Wilder as long as I could, and not get shared with Captain James, so I said, "That feels so nice, sir. If there's anything I can do to make you feel nice, I won't mind doing it at all."

He stopped rubbing me, and said, "Is that the truth, Thomas? Will you do anything?"

"I think so," I answered. "I mean, I'd do anything I could think of right now. You were so kind to me, taking me out of the Home for Boys and making me your cabin boy and giving me my cabin boy suit and the shoes and all, and feeding me those wonderful, delicious meals. Nobody ever treated me like that before. Would it be alright if I kissed you? Because I really want to."

Maybe it was only half true, but I expected it pushed Captain James a bit further off into my future -- and Mr. Wilder really didn't seem too bad. When he climbed up to my face and put his lips against mine, I didn't mind at all. I was not quite so happy when his tongue went into my mouth because he'd been smoking a cigar not long before, but I got used to that, and it was not so bad. Actually, feeling his strong arms around me was a very good feeling. I'd never known my father, and Mr. Wilder was the first man to take an interest in me.

When we'd let off kissing, I said, "Sir, do you want me to suck on it for you?"

He seemed a little put off. "Where did you learn about that?" he asked.

"Just from Charles," I answered. "He did it to me last night, and I did it to him, and it felt very nice."

I saw him smile in the lantern light. Then he said, "Well, then, let's see what Charles has taught you."

He wanted to do it a bit differently from what I'd done with Charles, because he got me to turn around so that he could suck mine whilst I sucked on his. He might have been even better than Charles at sucking my willy, and I did my very best sucking his, making sure no teeth came into contact with his parts. He had rather a nice one, not terribly big, and quite straight and smooth. The skin at the top pulled back easily, and I could feel his excitement as I tongued what emerged from beneath.

At the same time, he was exciting me very much, and I decided that doing things with Mr. Wilder would be quite enjoyable. Not much later, though, I had my next big surprise. Mancream, I learned, comes in far greater quantities than boycream. Just the same, I had a firm impression that I was supposed to swallow it all, and I did my best, although a little bit dribbled out the side of my mouth.

Part of that may have been because while Mr. Wilder was filling my mouth, I was having my own wiggly sensations, and not concentrating too well. It didn't matter, though. A minute later, he pushed that little leak off my cheek and back into my mouth where it belonged. I would have rushed off to tell Charles all about it, because I wanted him not to worry and know how nice it had been, but that wasn't possible.

I spent the rest of the night in Mr. Wilder's big bed, wrapped in his manly arms, and feeling -- perhaps for the first time in my life -- safe.

..........

Cooky winked at me the next morning as he served our shirred eggs and pork sausage, and I suspected that the "confidence of the cabin" might not be so great a secret as Mr. Wilder might have liked. I wasn't ashamed, though. I was thinking that Mr. Wilder truly might be beginning to love me. I was fairly certain I was beginning to love him. I had no real experience of love at that time in my life, but the way I felt about Mr. Wilder, and even more, the way I felt towards Charles, seemed like love to me.

It was more love than I'd ever felt in my entire life, and I was immensely happy.

(More to come from heedon@tormail.org )