Date: Sat, 14 Nov 2009 15:54:58 -0800 (PST) From: William Rush Subject: This Love Lost in My Heart This Love Lost in My Heart by William Rush Disclaimer The content and opinions expressed in this story are not necessarily the personal view of the story's author and not necessarily those of anyone responsible for this archive or website. This story contains depictions of sexually explicit erotic acts. In some cases these acts may be of a homosexual nature, if this is illegal where you are at, please stop reading now. This story depicts simulated sexual acts between adults and minors. If this type of material is offensive to you, then stop reading now. By reading further you declare or affirm that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to read this material, furthermore you declare that you will not hold the author and the archive or website publishing this story liable for any damages incurred from reading this story. The author grants permission for this work and all his other works to be reposted on any site as long as the site does not charge for membership and as long as it is legal to post the story on that site and that there is no illegal intent when posting the story. If a site charges membership, permission must be granted prior to allowing the story to be published. The author retains all rights to the story and permission to publish this story does not alter or transfer those rights. I also want to make my normal speech now. This is a work of fiction and as such, should be treated as that. I do not endorse anything that happens in this story, nor do I encourage anyone to participate in any activities like this. This is fantasy. If you feel that you are in danger of molesting or harming a child, then you should seek immediate psychiatric help. Remember in most countries there's nothing illegal about having those thought, but if you act on them that's an entirely different matter. Any similarities to real people or places, is completely coincidental. Also I feel it's important to point out that this story is a work of fiction. I am writing this story in the first person, but I am not this man. This man's life is the creation of free expression, not of reality. With that said, I hope you enjoy the story. Part One I watched him for awhile. He was a scrawny little kid, couldn't have been more than ten or eleven at most. He had dark brown hair that was long and dirty and hung down over his eyes. This was the second day I'd seen him there, leaning against the dumpster. I thought about calling someone to come get him. The streets were no place for a kid, but for all I know he'd just ran away from some foster home. I sat on the park bench and I felt this tinge of guilt, wondering if I should go and offer to give him some money for a favor. I wondered if he'd agree, but I doubted it. He was hungry and if he was hungry it probably meant he hadn't gotten desperate enough to turn tricks. That was a good thing I guess. Turning tricks is the worst way to earn money, you can never tell where they'll go. It's ironic that the really nice johns are usually the ones you need to worry about, the closet psychos who turn into sadists. When I was thirteen a guy burnt me with a cigarette right above my penis. I poked him in the eye and I'm not talking Three Stooges poke, I jammed my thumb into his eye socket and jumped out of his car and ran. If I hadn't, I don't know what he'd have done. Every kid on the street has a story, that's the first thing you learn. None of them come out clean. The second thing you learn is to stay away from the shelters. Half the fucking counselors in those places are trying to get in your pants, the other half just don't seem to care anymore. Even if you don't have to worry about the counselors, you still have to worry about getting punked. I only used the restroom once in a shelter, and when I did I found one of my friend's, Crow, curled up in a ball. Three older boys had taken turns with him. He couldn't stop crying. I helped him up and we left. I've been off the streets for awhile now, almost twenty years, but it doesn't change. I come downtown so I can remember where I came from. It sounds like I'm beating myself up, but I'm not, sometimes I just need something to get me motivated, to make me remember that the world sucks if you don't have money. Last week I went to work in a boiler room. I'm the guy you hear on the other end of the phone, telling you, you've just won a trip to beautiful Orlando, Florida. Three days and two nights in a five star resort, all I need is your credit card number. I'm good at it. I make more sales than most of the other schmucks there combined, but I've been doing this awhile, talking my way through life. I could take as long a lunch as I wanted, that was the nice thing about my job. They knew I made them money, so they never tossed me any shit. If I left at noon, they just told me to have a good one and asked if I was coming in tomorrow. Today I'd made two hundred dollars in four hours. I should've stayed, but I ended up selling a package to a blind woman in San Francisco and ever since then my stomach felt like shit. The kids sleeping. I can tell, he hasn't moved in thirty minutes. I felt sorry for him. Some pimp was going to grab him if he stayed out in the open like that. I know you think I'm talking about some black guy in bell-bottoms and a big fedora with a purple feather sticking out of the band, but that's not what they're like. Pimps drive Mercedes and wear Rolexs, they have thousand dollar suits and Italian leather shoes. They come up and offer to give you something to eat. They sit with you in the diner and tell you that they can help you make some real money, not the shit you're making now. They give you so much food you think you're going to throw up and then they pull out this wad of bills to pay and you think, 'man, I could be making that kind of money.' They don't tell you they're going to get you strung out on heroine and leave you in a room to get fucked over and over 'til you just don't care anymore, all you want is your fix. I walked across the street. I stood about twenty feet from the boy and he didn't move. If a street kid feels a shadow pass over him his eyes open, this poor little guy didn't even flinch, he couldn't have been out here long. I walked over to where he was sleeping and sat down so he was out of my reach. "Hey," I said. He didn't move, so I said it again, "Hey!" His eyes opened, they were dark green and frightened. He looked at me, with my shaved head and goatie and probably thought the worst. "Don't freak out," I said. "If I'd wanted to hurt you, I could've gotten you in your sleep little man." "What do you want," he said, sliding away from me. "You're not going to last if you keep doing this shit," I said. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I haven't done nothing wrong." "Kid," I said. "You're lucky I'm the one that woke you up and not someone else." "Leave me alone," the kid said as he stood up. I watched as he backed away from me, then I stood up too. I pulled a twenty from my wallet and held it out. "What's that for," he asked. "So you can get something to eat," I said. "I don't need your money," he said. "Looks like you do," I said, waving it in front of him. "You want it or not?" The kid came closer to me and then reached out and yanked it from my hands and ran. "Don't spend it on candy," I shouted, then added. "Or booze!" I felt good after that. At least the kid would have something to eat. If he was smart he could make it last a day or two. I went home to my apartment and sat on the couch and watched TV for the rest of the night. I fell asleep watching Conan O'brian. I took off early from work the next day too. I wont tell you how much I made, it would just make you mad. That's the problem with money, too many stupid people have it and don't know how to hold on to it. "No, Bill, I can't call you back," I would say, "We only have five packages left. They're on a first come first serve basis. I understand you want to talk to your wife, but lets be honest for a second, what do you think you're wife's going to say when she hears you turned down a chance to spend a weekend in Vegas for one-hundred and fifty dollars?" I'm not going to mince words here. I'm not a nice guy. If you think I am, you're a moron. If you got money, I'm going to do everything I can to get that money. Now to say what I'm doing is illegal, well that's not true. Everything I do is taped, it has to be to cover our asses, the only thing is I know every way in the book to get your money. Twice a week I sit down and learn something new from one of the guys in the room. That one-hundred and fifty dollars Bill just spent on a vacation, I get twenty-five dollars from that sale. That might not seem impressive, but I've sold five in an hour. This package we're working now, it's not that great. If I get a three hundred or four hundred dollar package, I can make as much as fifty to seventy-five dollars a sale. You do the math. There's a reason I haven't worked full time in ten years. I'm very good at what I do. I know who has the money and who doesn't, who's going to buy and who wont. I know by the way they talk, the words they use. You learn to pick up on tone and inflection, when someone starts talking slower or faster. If someone's not talking fast, they're thinking, if they're talking fast, they think they got the answer. Me, I always know how fast I'm talking. I've memorized my script. The little man is there again, he aint sleeping this time, he's standing in the shadows watching me sitting on the bench. I motion for him to come over, he waits for a few seconds, then crosses the street. "What's up?" I ask him as he steps on to the sidewalk. "Nothing much," he said. "You broke?" I asked. "No," he said. "I've got five bucks left." "What did you spend fifteen dollars on?" I asked. He looked at me worried that he wasn't going to get anymore money. I knew what he wanted and I didn't fault him for it. I was a cow, and as long as he didn't have to milk me for his money, I was going to be a golden cow. "Just food," he said, "I didn't buy any candy or beer." I smiled and said, "Well I'm happy to hear that." "I just wanted to say thanks," he said. "and..." "I can give you ten," I said. "But you're going to have to figure out how you're going to survive out here on your own eventually." "I got ideas," he said. I almost laughed at that, but I didn't. Ideas were better than nothing I guess. "You know kid," I said. "I don't like to see you out here. Why don't you come spend the night at my place? My couch pulls out, you can get a good nights rest, spend some time thinking about what you want to do." "I'm okay," he said. "I've got someplace to stay." I didn't tell the kid that I'd dreamed about him last night, that some wino had stumbled across him and stabbed him for the ten dollars in his pocket. I just stared at him and shook my head. "Do you smoke," I asked. "No," he said. "Good," I said. "You can stay at my place 'til you find someplace else to stay." "I've got someplace," he said, getting nervous. "I'm glad to hear that," I said, then asked, "can you read?" "Yeah," he said, looking at me like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. "I can read." I wrote down my address on the back of a piece of paper and handed it to him, before he could grab it I pulled my hand back and started to write my phone number, then handed it back to him with a ten dollar bill. He'd remember that piece of paper now, because I had taken the time to write down, not just my address, but my phone number as well. "Here," I said. "I'm not giving you any more money. I got food at my apartment you can eat. I aint going to make you do nothing you don't want to do, but you keep staying out here and bad things are going to happen." "I can take care of myself," the boy said. "What's your name," I asked. He looked at me, wondering whether or not he should tell me. He had his hands in his pockets now, and I wondered if he would even be able to take his pants off without cutting them loose with some scissors, they looked so grimy. "You don't have to tell me," I said, leaning back on the bench. "My name's Luke." "Ricky," he said. "But everyone calls me Bandit." I laughed, and the kid blushed. "I'm not laughing at your name," I said to him. "I think it's cool." "I've got someplace to stay," the boy said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince me. "Anyone feel you up yet?" I asked. He blanched and began to shift from foot to foot. He looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening. "No," he said. "They will," I said. "Then they'll try to get you to do stuff for them. I aint going to ruin the surprise for you, but it wont be fun." "I've got friends," he said. "Yeah," I said. "The kids you bought food for yesterday weren't your friends, they just wanted food." "You don't know them," he said in an angry voice. "Nah," I said. "I don't know anything and you know everything, right?" He looked at me frowning, not really liking where the conversation was going. "Well I've done what I can," I said. "You know, I'd hate to see anything happen to you, that'd keep me up at night. I hope you're a smart kid. I hope you really have someplace safe to stay." "I do," he said, looking at his feet. "Good," I said, standing up. "But if things don't turn out like you expected, come to my place or give me a call." He stepped back and watched me. I smiled and walked away. "I'll be okay," he said. "Good to know," I said. I sat on my couch hoping the kid would call. He didn't. I waited up 'til two in the morning. I don't know why the kid bothered me so much. I tried not to have any thoughts about the kid, even though he was more than tasty by my standards, but it was hard. He was a cute kid. I was a cute kid too. My looks helped keep me fed. I didn't have to wait long if I was looking for a john. I never turned down a shower neither. I learned quick Johns didn't like filthy boys that smelled like piss or cum. If you were clean, it kept the cops away too, at least until they started to recognize you. Crow sells pot now. He lives two blocks from my apartment. He keeps trying to get me to come over, but I can't stand the stuff anymore, kills my sinuses. I'm thinking of buying some, though, enough to loosen up Bandit. I can't help but think of ways to get in his pants. I keep thinking, someone else is going to get in there eventually, why can't I be the first, then I start hating myself for thinking about using him like that. He's such a cute kid, it's a shame he had to end up out there. It takes me a couple of hours before I fall asleep. Damn kid. I'm almost asleep and I hear a siren go by and I worry someone's gotten to Bandit, done something to him. Who calls a kid Bandit? That's what you call your dog or a car, not a little boy. It was a cute name though. I woke up at five in the morning to someone pounding on my door. I looked through the peep hole and saw him. He was scared and crying. I opened the door and pulled him in before he could run away. "What's the matter buddy?" I said, as he pulled away from me and stepped back into the living room. "Nothing," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You can tell me," I said. "Nothing's the matter," he said, looking at me. I could tell now his shirt was torn. I could see his little pink nipple through the big gaping hole. "Did someone hurt you?" I asked. "They took my money," he said, starting to sob. "Don't worry about the money," I said. "I can give you more money buddy. I just want to make sure you're alright. They didn't do anything else did they?" "One of them punched me in the stomach," he said, pulling up his shirt to show me a small bruise on his smooth pale stomach. "Ouch," I said. "That looks like it hurts. He must have been a big guy." Bandit nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Well you wont have to worry about that tonight okay," I said. "Are you hungry?" He nodded and looked at me, so small and frail. His arms were thin. I wanted to hold him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but I knew this kid probably didn't want to be held. "Okay," I said pointing to the kitchen table, "Why don't you have a seat and I'll make you something to eat." He walked over to the table and sat down. I pulled out a frying pan and turned on the stove. "Do you want some eggs?" I asked, I wasn't the best cook in the world. "Okay," he said, looking around my apartment. "I've got something for you in the bedroom," I said as I cracked a couple eggs and let them drop in the pan. He gave me a worried look and I smiled and said, "Clothes. I bought you some clothes." "But you don't know what size I wear," he said. "Well lets hope they fit then," I said. I went into my bedroom and dug out a package of t-shirts I had bought for the kid. I came out and tossed them to him. he sat at the kitchen table staring at the t-shirts smiling. I didn't think buying them a bit big was going to be a big deal, most of the kids seemed to like them that way anyways. "After you eat you can use my bathroom to take a bath," I said. He looked at me, the look of a boy who knew what happened in bathrooms. "Lock the door while you're in there," I said. "I told you, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." I had bought the kid some other clothes as well, in assorted sizes. It sounds corny, but it was worth it just to see the kid smile. I'd only seen him twice, but in that time I didn't think the kid was capable of smiling, watching him in the living room sorting through the different bags of clothes, well it did something to me. I don't mean I wanted the kid, at least not in that way, instead I wanted the kid to be happy. I knew I couldn't keep him, that was impossible, but I hoped there was a way to keep him from having to go back on the streets. Maybe help him find someplace better to stay. At that moment though I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind as I saw him pull his dirty t-shirt off, exposing his pale white chest and small pink nipples. He looked at me, oblivious to the effect he was having. "Why don't you take the clothes with you to the bathroom," I said, "That way you can get dressed right after you're done washing up." "Okay," he said, flashing me that knowing look once again. "I'll stay out here," I said. "I'm not worried," he said. "Good," I said. I heard him in the bathroom filling the tub with water. I could hear something else too, he was humming. He had a beautiful little soprano voice. I sat on my bed for awhile, waiting for him to come out. He was in there a long time before he finally appeared in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He was dressed for bed. "Hi," I said. "Did you enjoy your bath?" "Yeah," he said. "It was nice." "Good," I said, looking at him. "Now that your hairs washed, I should check you for lice before you sleep on the couch." "What do you mean?" He asked. "I don't have lice." "You never know," I said. "When I was on the streets I got lice more times than I could count." "You were on the streets?" He asked. "Yeah," I said. "I ran away when I was just a little older than you. My father, well we just didn't get along." "My mom threw me out," he said as he followed me out to the kitchen, taking a seat in one of the chairs. "Why would she do that?" I asked, running my fingers through his hair, checking his scalp for nasty little bugs. "I don't know," he said, in that voice kids make when they're trying to hide something from you. "Well it looks like you're clean," I said, "no lice here." "Thanks," he said, looking up at me. "Don't mention it," I said. He looked at me feeling suddenly uncomfortable with me standing so close to him. I moved over to the stove and picked up the frying pan and put it in the sink. "Well I'm going to go to sleep," I said, then asked. "You want me to pull the couch out or do you want to sleep on it like it is?" "I can sleep on it like that," he said. "Okay," I said walking to my hall closet and pulling out a blanket and an extra pillow. I laid them down on the couch and stood in my doorway, watching him for a second. "Thank you," he said. "You're welcome," I said. "Get some sleep, it's late." I tried to sleep but I couldn't. Having the kid in the other room was almost as bad as having him out on the street. I imagined him in the bathtub naked, his body glistening with water. I wondered if he was circumcised. I woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through my window. I walked out into the living room, expecting the kid to be gone, but Bandit was sleeping on the couch, his t-shirt pulled up exposing his belly, his mouth open, a small line of drool running from the corner, and an obvious morning boner, the tip of his little penis poking out through the hole in his boxers. He was circumcised and probably no bigger than my thumb. I went over and covered the kid, knowing I would probably end up burning down the kitchen if I had that to stare at that all morning. He shifted a bit and then settled down. He looked completely different clean, like any other kid from middle class America. I made pancakes, thinking the kid probably liked them. I looked over and saw him awake, he rubbed his eyes, trying to remember where he was at. "Morning," I said. "You want some pancakes?" He nodded and shifted underneath the blankets. I knew he felt his little morning woody and was wondering how he was going to get past me with it still so stiff. "Well why don't you wash up in the bathroom," I said, turning my back to him as I flipped the pancakes. "This batch is almost done." I heard him move from behind me. I turned to watch as he walked into the bathroom, his little fingers fidgeting trying to hide his stiff little member. A few minutes later he came out and walked to the kitchen table and sat down. I put a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He dove right in. I smiled, admiring the kids appetite. "They any good?" I asked. He nodded and said, "Yeah, thanks." "Good," I said. "I'm not going to work today. I thought I'd stay here. I want to talk to you." "What about?" He asked. "I guess about what you want to do," I said. He looked at me with those deep green eyes, puzzled, I could tell, wondering what I wanted with him. I'm sure if he didn't learn about sex from some man back at his old home, which most kids on the street have, then he learned about it at school. Kids knew more about that stuff than they used to. I blame the internet. "Why are you being so nice?" He asked. I wondered how I could explain it to him, then I said, "stay here and I'll show you." I left and went in to my bedroom and looked through my old wallet. I dug out a picture and went back out and handed it to him. He looked at it and then me. "Is that you?" He asked. "Yep," I said. "Two weeks before I ran away." "You look young," He said, looking at me again and then the picture. "I was young," I said. "It was about a month after my eleventh birthday." "Why did you run away?" He asked. "Why did you run away?" I countered. "I told you," he said. "My mom threw me out." "You never told me why," I said. "I can't tell you," he said. "Why not?" I said. "Are you afraid I'll tell someone?" "No," he said. "It's just, well, you wont like me if I tell you." "Well," I said. "Did you beat up an old lady and steal her change purse?" "No," he said. "Did you throw some kittens into traffic?" I asked. "No," he said, fidgeting. "Did you set your house on fire?" I asked. "No," he said. "Well I'm running out of guesses," I said. "But I can guarantee I wont hate you if you tell me." "You promise not to tell?" He asked. "Yeah," I said. "I promise." "I flushed her stuff down the toilet," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "What stuff?" "Her drugs," he said. "I didn't want her taking them any more, so I flushed them down the toilet." "She kicked you out for flushing her drugs?" I asked. "Yeah," he said, staring at the half eaten pancakes on his plate. "Why would I hate you for that?" I asked. "Because my mom does drugs," he said. "Kid," I said. "My mom did drugs too. I don't hate you for that." "Really?" He asked. "Don't you have anyone else you can stay with?" I asked. He shook his head and started to eat again. "What about your father?" I asked. "I don't know where he is," Bandit said. "No uncles or aunts?" I asked. "Nope," he said. "Crap," I said. "Well that really sucks." He nodded and glanced at me, I could tell he was thinking about something. "What's on your mind kid?" I asked. "Are you going to do stuff to me?" He asked, suddenly. "What do you mean?" I asked, getting nervous. "This kid, Jason," the boy said, "he told me that you wanted to do stuff." "He did, did he?" I asked. He nodded, looking at me, wondering if I was going to get upset. "No, I'm not going to do anything to you," I said. "Not unless you want to do something." "You want to though?" He asked. "Yeah," I said. "I wont lie to you, but I like you kid. I'm not going to hurt you." "Do you like me because I look like you did?" He asked. "I like you because your a sweet kid and you don't deserve to be on the streets," I said. "But you still want to do stuff," he said. "I'd be lying if I told you different," I said. "I don't want to do that stuff," He said. "I know," I said. "Most boys don't." "So you wont make me?" He asked. "I told you already," I said. "No." "Okay," he said, as if he was in deep thought. "What's your last name kid?" I asked. "Solomon," he said, too quick to be a lie. "Cool," I said. "What's your last name," he asked. "Skywalker," I said smiling. "No it's not," He said, laughing. "Alden," I said, smiling. "Luke Alden." "Cool," he said. "Can I stay here tonight too?" "Sure," I said. "You can stay as long as you need to." He smiled at me and looked at the TV and X-Box. I rolled my eyes and jerked my head towards it. "Do you have Guitar Hero?" He asked. "One, two, and three," I said, it was actually one of my favorite games. Most people hear I'm a boy lover and automatically assume I have video games so I can entice kids into my home. If you think that, you're stupid. Kids don't walk off with strangers anymore, especially not to play video games. Every kid in America knows about stranger danger and most kids have there own video games. I have video games because I love to play them. They say it keeps you sharp, helps you to think quick. I believe them. Besides it's fun and helps me burn off all the stress and anxiety I get from just living. Sometimes I think about the past, it's not like I'm trying to, it just comes to me. Like a few days ago I remember being in a store downtown shoplifting some sandwiches and this Indian guy from behind the counter catches me. He thinks the other kid in the store is with me, so he hits him with a baseball bat in the stomach. The kid was maybe fourteen or fifteen, he drops like a rock. Almost on queue this woman walks in and starts screaming, "Roger! Roger! What have you done to Roger!" I guess it was her son. I could see this thin line of blood running from the kids mouth and I thought, he killed the kid because I stole a sandwich. That kid was dead, because I stole a sandwich. I don't know what happened to him. I ran before the Indian guy could get me. Bandit's oblivious to the world. He's lost in another world. He didn't even bother to sit in the chair I have set up to play games. He's sitting with his legs crossed, five feet from the TV. I can hear his little fingers bashing the buttons. "Don't copy over any of my saves," I tell him. "I wont," He replied. At around noon I tell him he should get dressed, he gives me this little smirk, but does it, pulls on a pair of shorts and then some socks. I smile, he looks very cute in the clothes I bought him. I make him a grilled cheese sandwich with ham. He eats it and asks for another. I make him a second one and he eats that one too, apparently full, then he returns to his game. At three he turns off the game and turns the TV on. He knows all the channels and I realize he's from the city. "What's your Dad's first name?" I ask him. "Why?" He asked. "I was going to try and find him," I said. "See if you can stay with him." "I don't want to stay with him," the boy said, not taking his eyes from his Pokemon cartoon. "Did he do something to you?" I asked. "No," he said. "I just don't know him." "You don't know me either," I said. "But you're staying in my house." "Yeah," he said. "But you're different." "Why am I different," I asked. "'Cause you want me here," he said. "Well maybe your Dad wants you to stay with him," I said. "He doesn't," the boy said, like it was a matter of fact. "We wont know for sure unless we ask him," I said. "He doesn't," Bandit said. "Well tell me his name and I'll be able to find out," I said. "Gilbert," the boy said. It took me less than an hour to find his father. There was only one Gilbert Solomon in the city. I called the number and a man answered. "Gilbert Solomon," I asked. "May I ask who's calling," the man asked. "My name's Luke," I said. "I found your son, at least I think he's your son, on the street." "Bobby?" He said. "Bobby's playing in the backyard, I can see him now." "No, sir," I said. "Ricky. I found Ricky." There was a moment of silence and then the man asked in a quiet voice, "Is he alright." "Yeah," I said, "But he was on the street for, I don't know how long." "Are you his caseworker," the man asked. "No," I said. "He didn't want to to go to the police, I thought he'd run away again, so I've been taking care of him." "Don't hurt my boy," he said, his paternal instincts kicking in. "I'm not going to hurt him," I said. "In fact I'm calling you to make sure no one hurts him." "You have to call his mother," he said. "She has custody of him." "His mother kicked him out," I said. "She wont let him come back." "What?" He asked. "Why did she do that?" "He said he dumped her drugs in the toilet," I said. There was another moment of silence, I waited patiently, letting him digest everything that I'd said. "God," he said. "I didn't know she was taking drugs." "I'm sure you didn't sir," I said. "But right now, your little boy needs you." "He's not my boy," the man said. "She was pregnant when I met her. We only named him Solomon so he wouldn't be a bastard." "What are you saying?" I asked. "He's not my son," the man said. "I can't do anything for him. I have my own family to worry about. I was a dumb kid when I met his mother. I can't be responsible for her mistake." "Look fuck head," I said. "He's not a mistake. I can't believe I'm hearing this shit." "You don't understand," he said. "My wife doesn't know anything about her. She doesn't know anything about him. No, I can't do this. Don't call here again. I wish I could help, but I can't." The man hung up the phone. I tried to call him a couple more times, but it went to voicemail. I went out and saw Ricky lounging back in my gaming chair, watching the TV, completely vegged out. "Do you want Pizza for dinner?" I asked. "Yeah," he said, in an excited voice. "That would be cool." I got up to check on Ricky that night and it looked like he was sleeping, the covers pulled away from his body. This time his little stiffy was poking completely through the hole in his boxers. It was long and slender, with a slight curve, it looked impossibly stiff. I knew by the way the kid was breathing that he wasn't asleep, that he was showing himself to me. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his body, covering him up. Dumb kid, I thought, doesn't even know what he's doing. I walked back to my room and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up and he was covered up. I smiled, hoping he got the message. I wanted the kid, I did, but something inside of me said, 'that's you laying there on that couch, are you really going to try and fuck yourself over?' I filled two bowls with cereal and milk and placed them on the table. I went over to Ricky and shook his shoulder. He jumped. "Sorry," I said, "Breakfast is ready." He looked at me, still drowsy, and I smiled. "Didn't sleep well?" I asked. "You snore," he said. "I do?" I said. "Sometimes," he said. "You woke me up last night." "Shit," I said. "I'm sorry about that." "It's okay," he said. "I don't mind." "Well breakfast is ready," I said. "You should go wash up." He looked at me, standing over him, wondering how he was going to hide his stiffy. I thought it was hilarious that he had flaunted his little rod last night and now he didn't want me to see the bulge in his boxers. I turned my back to him. "Go on," I said. "I'm not looking." I heard the bedroom door open and I saw his cute little boxer clad butt run inside to the bathroom. We sat at the kitchen table and talked about video games. He was happy to let me know that he had cleared Guitar Hero III on hard. I knew he was aware that I had only made it through medium. He smiled and ate his cereal happily. "I have to go to work today," I said. "I missed yesterday, can't miss two days in a row, looks bad." He nodded. "I would like it if you stayed inside," I said. "So I know you're safe, but you're not my kid, I know that, so if you want to leave while I'm gone, you can. I just wish you wouldn't." "I'll stay here," he said. "What can I have for lunch?" "Do you know how to use a microwave," I asked. He rolled his eyes, and said, "yeah I can use a microwave." "Well there's some burritos in the freezer," I said. "Why don't you have a few of them. There's sour cream and salsa in the fridge too, you can put that on top." "Okay," he said, watching me gather my things up. "You'll be here when I get back," I asked. "Yeah," he said. "I promise." I smiled and said, "Good." It was hard for me to concentrate at work. I had a bad day. I left at two and headed home, expecting to find Ricky and the things I'd bought him gone, but instead he was sitting in the chair watching Pokemon. "Hi," I said. "How was your day?" "Good," he said. "Someone knocked on the door, but I didn't answer it." "Smart thinking," I said. "Did you see who it was?" "Some man," he said. "He looked like a Mormon." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Was he dressed in a suit?" "Yeah," he said. "And he had a backpack." "Charlie," I said. "That must have been Charlie." "Who's Charlie?" he asked. "One of my old roommates," I said. "You think he wants to move in again," Bandit asked, sounding worried. "I've got you as a roommate," I said, "there's no room for him." The kid smiled and I smiled too. As I passed by I messed up his hair and he looked at me in mock anger. I called Charlie to see what he wanted. Charlie told me that he and Miguel had split up, well he actually said he'd moved out. I think they were the only two people in their lives that didn't realize they were a couple. He said that he and his brother Calvin were moving into the city and asked if I wanted to come over on Saturday for a house warming party. I told him that sounded like fun, but I was busy on Saturday. "I can take care of myself," Ricky said. "You can go." I looked at him, for a second, then said, "I wish I could go, but I already made plans to spend the day with someone else. I'm really sorry. I wish you guys had told me sooner." When I hung up the phone, Ricky was looking at me, with this curious expression. "They'll get over it," I said. "Besides if I went to their party, we wouldn't be able to go to the beach tomorrow." "We're going to the beach?" Ricky asked nearly jumping out of his chair. "Yeah," I said. "I thought it might be fun. Do you want to go?" "Yeah," he said. "Can I go swimming?" "What do you think?" I asked. "Cool!" He said, smiling at me. For the rest of the night he kept asking me questions about the beach. I knew I'd made the right decision, but I also knew that I had to figure out what to do with Ricky soon, he couldn't stay with me forever, even if I wanted him to. The next morning I got my car out of the garage and picked up Ricky in front of the building. I bought him a pay as you go cellphone, which he was very proud of. It wasn't an expensive phone, but it was his and that made him happy. We drove to the shore and he was quiet along the way. He was wearing a pair of speedos under his shorts. They were a bit snug, but he didn't seem to mind. I parked at the end of the beach, because there were fewer people around. I carried a cooler with lunch and some drinks in it, he carried a blanket and a few towels. The sun was out and it was hot. The perfect day for the beach. I got some sunscreen out and tossed it to him. He stepped out of his shorts and stood there in just his speedos. I looked at him admiring his body. He caught me looking and blushed. "You're a very cute kid," I said. "You don't have to be embarrassed." "I don't want people looking at me funny," he said. "Don't worry about it," I said, "I'm right here. No one's going to bother you." I helped him rub lotion on his back, which made him squirm a bit, then had him rub it on my back, so he would know it was just a part of coming to the beach. He sat with me for awhile on the blanket, watching the water. "Aren't you going to go swimming?" I asked. He looked at me, then the water, and said, "I don't feel like it." "What are you talking about," I said. "I thought that's the reason you wanted to come." "No," he said. "I wanted to come because I've never been to the beach before." "You've never been to the beach," I asked, not sure I'd heard him right. "No," he said. "My mom never took me." "Well," I said. "Do you know how to swim?" He looked at me and shook his head, 'no'. "Hmm," I said. "Well I guess today you learn how." "What do you mean," He asked. "I know how to swim," I said. "I can teach you." "Really," he asked. "Yeah," I said. "It'll be fun." We walked down to the water and I went in 'til the water was about waste deep. He waited looking around to see if anyone was watching, but there was only an older couple nearby and they were lounging on chairs underneath an umbrella. "Come on," I said. "No one's watching." He walked into the water for the first time and looked at me smiling, then this serious look crossed his face. "What if the tide gets me," he asked. "Or a shark?" "I've been swimming here for twenty years and I've never seen a shark," I said, "and besides I'm right here, the tide isn't going to get you." That seemed to ease his fears, he walked out to me and I held my hand out and he grabbed it and held onto it tightly. "First thing you need to do," I said, "is learn to float." "Float?" He asked. "Yeah," I said. "I want you to float on your back. I'll hold you up so you wont go under." "How do I float," he asked, still nervous. "Lean back," I said. "I'll hold you up, don't worry." He looked at me, but did what I asked. I put my hands under his shoulder and bottom and held him up. He squirmed a little, looking at me, I'm sure wondering if I was trying to cop a feel. "Quit worrying," I said as he looked up at me, his dark hair wet now. He lay there looking up at me, still tense. "You need to relax," I said. "Just let your muscles go loose." "You wont let me go?" He asked. "I promise little man," I said. "I wont let you go until you're ready." I could feel him relax, the weight of his body suddenly leaving as the water took over. "That's the way," I said as I slowly took my hand away from his bottom and showed it to him. "See, you're floating." He looked up at me, still frightened, but at the same time excited. "I'm going to take the other hand away," I said, "but I'm right here, so don't worry, okay?" He nodded, closing his eyes, absorbed in the moment. I took my hand off his shoulder and watched him floating beneath me. He was such a small beautiful child. I wondered how anyone couldn't want him. "You're floating," I said in an excited voice. "How does it feel?" "Good," he said. "It feels really good." "Now that wasn't so bad was it?" I asked. He shook his head and for a second started to go under, I grabbed him and held him up. He looked up me with this shocked look on his face. "If you tense up you're going to sink," I said. "You got to relax." Once he relaxed again I let him go and he just floated there. He was catching on quick. In an hour I had him doing a doggy paddle as I held one hand beneath him under his stomach in case he started to sink. I walked around with him as he continued to paddle around, I kept telling him to kick his legs, but he was lazy in that department, so he was struggling a bit more than he had to. At lunch we got out and he sat on the blanket, his towel wrapped around his shoulders. I put some more lotion on him and he put some on my back as well. He seemed much more at ease. "How do you like the beach?" I asked. "It's fun," he said. "I hope I get to come here again." "Of course you will," I said. "But," he said, a frown coming over his face. "What's the matter buddy," I said, brushing his bangs from his eyes. "I can't stay with you forever," he said. "Well you'll stay with me 'til you have a place to stay," I said. "Someplace where there'll be adults to take care of you." "Really," he asked. "Have I lied to you yet?" I asked. He shook his head, no. "Then don't worry about that," I said. On the drive back from the beach he was quiet, I looked at him and could tell he was feeling down. I felt bad for the kid, knowing how frightened he must be, how uncertain everything seemed. I dropped him off in front of the apartment and he carried up the empty cooler and towels. I worried every time I left him alone that he'd be gone when I got back, but I didn't need to worry. When I entered the apartment I heard him call out from the bathroom. "I need a towel," he said. "I forgot to get one and I'm all wet." "Alright," I said, trying to fight back the urges that surged through my mind. I had just watched the kid all day in a speedo, and the chance to see him naked, even though I had already seen his little rod twice, was almost overwhelming. "You covered up?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. I walked in side to see him standing in the tub, his hands cupping his package, he looked at me and blushed, then reached out for the towel, exposing his stiff little rod to me. "Why are you doing that?" I asked. "What do you mean," he said, feigning innocence. "Showing me your penis," I asked. "I thought you wanted to see it," he said in a worried voice. "I do," I said, standing there, even now he hadn't covered it, "but that doesn't mean you have to show me it." "I want to," he said. "Oh buddy," I said, "you don't know what you want." He looked at me and gripped his small circumcised rod in between his thumb and fingers. "Don't you like to look at me?" He said. "You know I do," I said, "but I'm afraid if you show me it, I wont be able to stop myself. I might want to touch it." "I know you want to touch it," he said. "I could see you when I was swimming." "What do you mean," I asked, staring at him as he stroked his little rod. "You had a woody," he said. "I'm sorry about that," I said. "It's okay," he said. "I know why you got it. I'm not scared." "I don't want us to be like that," I said. "I like you, a lot, and I don't want you to think I only like you because I want your body." "I don't," he said. "I know you wouldn't touch me if I didn't want you to." "I could get in a lot of trouble just for looking at you now," I said. "I wont tell," he said. "I like you." "You don't like me," I said. "You need me." "I don't need you," he said, too young to realize the truth, "I like to be with you. You're the nicest man I've ever met." "You don't know me kid," I said. "I want to make you happy," he said, still stroking his little rod. "You can touch it if you want." "Why don't you get dressed and we'll talk about this later," I said, turning away and closing the bathroom door. He came out in his boxer with no shirt on. I was sitting on the couch and he sat next to me, placing his head on my shoulder. "I really do like you," he said. "I wish I could stay with you forever." "I know," I said, putting my arm around him, feeling his still damp skin against my arm. "I'm sorry I teased you," he said. "It's okay," I said, "but I don't want you to do anything you don't want to." "But I do," he said. "I know what sex is. I want to do it." "You don't need to do it with me," I said. "You can do it by yourself or find some little friend to have fun with." "But I want to do it with you," he said. "I want to see what yours looks like." "Well," I said. "That's all good, but I don't want to show you." "Do you want to see mine again?" He asked. "Jesus," I said, standing up. "Why don't you just jerk off, that'll make you feel better." "What do you mean," he said. "I thought you said you knew about sex," I asked. "I know where baby's come from," he said, "and I know what sperm is for." "Didn't you take sex ed," I asked. "My mom wouldn't let me," he said. "My friends told me about it though, I know about sex." "Well if you don't know about jerking off," I said, "then you don't know about sex." "That's where you pull on it, right," he asked. "Yeah," I said. "You don't jerk off?" "I don't know how," he said. "I've tried but nothing happens, I just feel like I'm going to pee." "Oh God," I said, my dick stiffening in my pants. "If I tell you how, will you leave me alone tonight." He nodded and then before I could stop him, pulled his boxers down showing me his still stiff little prick. "I'm going to tell you," I said. "I don't need to see it to tell you." "I want to make sure I'm doing it right," he said. "You can watch me in case I'm doing something wrong." "Fuck," I said, swearing for the first time in front of the kid. "Okay, but after this you need to leave me alone." I walked over and checked the drapes to make sure all the windows were covered. I looked at him, not believing that I was going to do this. "Stay here," I said as I left and went to the drawer next to my bed and pulled out a bottle of lube, lust taking hold of me. When I came back he was leaning back on the couch, completely naked, stroking his penis up and down slowly, looking at it. When he saw me, he blushed a little and I saw he was finally getting a bit self conscious. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I said. "I want to," he said. I held the bottle of lube over his penis and watched as a small stream of the clear fluid dripped down on to the head of his small cock. "Rub that in," I said. He took his fingers and started to smear it over his cock until it was shiny. "Take your hand and wrap it around you penis," I said, watching him as he gripped it in his little fist, 'til only the head was showing from the top. "Now move your hand up and down." He started to move it up and down and looked at me with a serious expression. "Like that," he asked. "Yep," I said, "just like that. You can do it faster or slower, it all depends on what feels good." "How do you do it," He asked. "I start off slow 'til it starts to feel good," I said, feeling my excitement pressing against my trunks, "then I speed up." He nodded, obviously thinking that made sense. I watched him as he stroked his little penis, concentrating on what was happening. "I don't feel anything," he said, looking at me. "Keep doing it," I said. "You do it," he said. "Show me how you do it." "Jesus," I said, then finally giving up the fight I sat down next to him, then reached over and took his little rod in my hand. It was so stiff and soft at the same time. I moved my fingers up and down, knowing it can take awhile for a little boy to cum. I felt him place his hand on my leg and he looked at me for a second smiling, then looked back down at his penis. "You feel anything?" I asked. "If feels good," he said, shifting to let me have more access to his body. "You think you can do it now?" I asked, worrying about where this was going. "You make it feel better than me," he said, not a hint of guilt in his voice. I continued to stroke it, feeling my hand slide over the smooth skin. I ran my thumb over the tiny pink head and he moaned. "That feels really good," he said. "I'm glad," I said, gradually speeding up my strokes. I watched as he started to squirm under my firm grip. I stroked his leg with my hand as I continued to move my fingers up and down the length of his little dick, occasionally finding a drop of clear boy juice at the top. I would take a break and smear the juice around, then start to stroke him again, stroking him faster, then when I thought he was getting close, slowing down. "Oh," he said, "I feel something." "You're starting to feel your orgasm," I said, looking down at his stomach as it started to flex in and out. He squirmed beneath my grip, he placed his hand on my wrist and I pulled away. "Don't stop," he said. I started to stroke him again and he moaned, more vocal than I thought he'd be. I slowed down teasing him and he started to lift his hips up into the air to try to get me to go faster. I smiled. "Oh god," he said, the muscles on his neck tensing as he looked at his penis, not sure what was going to happen, "it feels really funny." "Just go with it," I said. "Oh," he said, one hand rubbing his stomach, the other holding my wrist, making sure I wasn't going to let go. He cried out and a splash of clear fluid shot out of his cock and landed on my hand, I continued to stroke him as more dribbled out, smearing over the tip of his dick and my fingers, finally he put his hands on top of mine to stop me. I took my hands away and looked at him. He was staring at his penis. "How do you feel?" I asked. "It was funny," he said. "I didn't think it could do that. Did I have sperm?" I licked the fluids on my finger, it was just the clear fluid from the kids prostate, no sperm. "You're shooting," I said, "there's no sperm yet though, that'll come when you start to get hair." "It felt really good," he said smiling, then in an excited voice asked, "can we do it again?" "You can do it again," I said. "I have to make dinner." "Aww," he said. "I can't make it feel like that." "Sure you can," I said, licking some more of his juice off his finger. "Why are you eating it," he asked, looking at me like I was crazy. "Because I like the taste," I said. He looked at me then smeared some of the fluid from his piss slit onto his finger tip and licked it off. He shrugged, obviously unimpressed. He came two more times while I was cooking. I kept looking at him, wondering if he was going to suddenly be filled with guilt, but he wasn't, I guess I was the only one filled with that emotion. When I finally set the plate, his hand was slimy and his dick was coated in a froth of lube and boy juice. "Okay," I said in a firm voice. "Time to take a break. Go wash up and we'll have dinner." He looked at me, almost pouting, but walked into the bathroom, completely naked and cleaned up. When he came out he didn't even bother to put his boxers on as he walked to the table, I thought about telling him to get dressed, but just let him go. I sat there, my cock almost hurt, swollen bigger than I thought it had been in awhile. After I cleaned the table I looked at him one last time, trying to get the image of his naked body imprinted in my memory. "I'm going to go take a nap," I said. "Why don't you watch some TV or something." "Okay," he said. "Thanks... well thanks for doing that." "Are you alright with it," I said. "Yeah," he said in a cheerful voice. "I wish I had learned to do it sooner, it feels great." "Well I'm glad," I said. "You know you can't tell anyone." "You mean I can't tell my teachers that the man I'm staying with jerked me off," he said in mock surprise. I just sighed and stood up, his gaze was locked on the lump pushing out in front of me, I didn't try to hide it, hoping the size might scare him away from trying anything else. I knew kids his age were selfish by nature, so I wasn't too worried that he was going to offer to do me, I was more worried that curiosity would get the better of him. I grabbed the lube off the counter and went in my bedroom and closed the door. I started to undress, thinking about taking a shower, but instead I thought the smart thing would be to relieve the pressure on my balls and libido. I laid down on my bed and lubed my cock up, getting it slick. I didn't notice the door was opened a crack until I had already started stroking and by then I wasn't going to stop. I saw his little eye peaking through the crack, watching me, and despite my better judgment, decided to take it one step further. "You can come in and watch," I said. "I watched you, I guess you watching me wont be much worse." There was a moment of silence, then the door opened slowly and I saw him standing there, still naked. "Come on over," I said. "You can sit on the bed." "Do I have to do you," he asked. "No," I said. "You don't have to do me." He walked over and sat near me, watching as I stroked my cock up and down. "It's really big," he said, looking at me, his eyes wide with wonder. I was big, but not that big. I measured about seven and half inches long and about an inch and three quarters wide. I was happy with my size. He continued to watch me as I moved my hand up and down the length. I felt his hand on my leg as he leaned closer, a look of intense concentration on his face. "Does it feel good," he asked. "Yeah," I said, "really good." "I'll do you if you want," he said. "You don't have to," I said. "I liked doing you." "Really?" he asked. "Yeah," I said. "You look sexy when you cum." He smiled and said, "You look sexy too." He reached his hand out and I stopped stroking, instead I just held it up at the base. He wrapped his fingers tentatively around my stiff pole and looked at me. The feeling of his soft hand on my prick was almost unbearably good. "Oh that's nice," I said, smiling, trying to make him feel comfortable. "Should I stroke it," he asked. "If you want," I said. He began to move his hand up and down. I pulled mine away and watched him. He seemed mesmerized by what he was doing, looking from my cock to my face, to see what effect it had on me. "That feels really good," I said, reaching out and stroking his side. He smiled at me, tightening his grip. He started to stroke me faster and I knew after everything that had happened today I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. "Are you going to have an orgasm," he asked. "Soon," I said. "Do you want to stop, it might get messy." He shook his head and continued to stroke me. "Oh," I said. "I'm almost there, faster." He sped up his strokes and I groaned as I felt the first spasm of cum surge through my cock and spit out into the air. He looked at it, shocked by the volume, but never stopped stroking. Spurt after spurt of cum poured out of my cock, coating my stomach and his hand. He kept stroking, even as I cried out. I closed my eyes as I felt my dick still throbbing in his hand trying to release cum that wasn't there anymore. I had to pull his hand away because my dick was so sensitive. I took a deep breath and looked at him. "Did you have a good one?" He asked. "It was great," I said. "You did a really good job." He smiled and looked at his hand. I scooped up some cum from my stomach and slurped it off my fingers. I really didn't like the taste, but I wanted to see if I could get him to taste it. He watched me and without me asking moved his hand to his lips and licked some off of his thumb. He had this serious expression on his face as he looked at me, then took another taste. "It's not bad," he said. I smiled, knowing that bode well for our future together. He laid next to me as we took a nap, I stroked his chest and stomach and he smiled. He looked into my eyes without saying a word, and sighed, apparently quite content. "Are you okay little buddy?" I asked, stroking his soft brown hair. "Yeah," he said. "That was fun." "I'm glad," I said. "Can we do it again?" He asked. I laughed, thinking I had created a monster, and said, "you keep going at this pace and you'll be so sore you wont be able to touch it for a week." He looked at me and rolled his eyes again, something that I found quite cute. He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I smiled and rubbed his back softly. The guilt was gone now, I could see that the boy seemed to be fine with his new found skills. I woke up shortly past midnight and Ricky was still sleeping next to me, his little mouth open, as he breathed slowly. I picked him up and took him to the living room, laying him down on the couch. I put a blanket over him and kissed him for the first time. I looked at him for awhile, wanting to hug him, but knowing that would just wake him up. I went back to bed and fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, I felt a weight on my leg and found Ricky back in bed with me. He was breathing softly, and he had a serious look on his face, obviously dreaming. I got up and went to the kitchen and made breakfast, not bothering to get dressed. I heard him in the bathroom and he came out naked and tired, his little prick stiff, apparently the morning piss not quite fixing that problem. "What's up sleepy head?" I asked. "Why did you put me on the couch?" He asked. "I thought you'd be more comfortable there," I said. "I like sleeping in your bed," he said. "Okay," I said. "You can sleep in there if you want, alright?" He nodded. I watched as he yawned, his slim youthful naked body stretching taught. He sat at the table still naked and I wondered how long we were going to go before we finally resorted to wearing clothes. Like most boys, Ricky was only as self-conscious about his body as others made him, since I was at ease with his nudity, so was he. He glanced at my cock half-hard and I thought I saw his tongue dart out past his lips. I didn't think anything of it. After breakfast I took a bath and when I came out he was laying back on my bed, stroking his slick little rod. He looked at me, his eyes just tiny slits, and moaned, "do me." I laughed and crawled on the bed, taking his still prick in my fingers and stroking him, he looked down at it quite seriously, absorbed in the sensations. I continued to stroke him, enjoying the small pants the boy made as I brought him closer and closer to the edge. "Oh yeah," he said, "I like that." I smiled at his childish dirty talk and continued to hold his small dick in my fingers, stroking and wanting so much to put it in my mouth and suck it. "Do you want to try something new," I asked, squeezing his penis gently in my hand. "Like what," he asked, curious, but also nervous. "Well," I said, "I could put it in my mouth and suck on it." "A blowjob," he asked. "Where did you learn about that," I asked. "I told you my friends told me about sex," he said. "Oh," I said, wondering what else the kid knew about. "You can suck me," he said as if it was just a casual request. I smiled and grabbed a towel, cleaning the lube from his little penis. I got down between his legs and leaned over to take him in my mouth. He watched me, moaning as he felt my breath on the head of his sensitive tip. He let out a deep gasp as my mouth encircled his stiff little member. His hands went instinctively to my hair, holding on as if he was riding a horsey. He looked at me intensely, every once in awhile hissing as I lavished his sensitive tip with my tongue. "That feels really good," he said, pushing his hips up so he could thrust more of his penis in my mouth. I smiled, looking up at his beautiful little tummy and delicate pink nipples. I reached up and ran my fingers around one of them. He gave me a strange look, but didn't stop me. After awhile, he held my wrist, keeping my hand on his chest. I continued to rub his stomach and chest, occasionally tweaking his nipples. He seemed to like it. It took him less than five minutes to come, I felt his whole body tense up as he pressed his tiny cocklet as far into my mouth as he could, his own mouth opened wide as he gasped, the first spurt of boy juice shooting across my tongue as his penis throbbed. Two more shots came out and then all that was left was a bit of dribble on the tip as it continued to throb. I kept up my assault until I felt him tug at my head. "Oh," he said. "Stop. Stop." I smiled as I looked down at him, he was watching me with this dreamy look on his face, like he still wasn't sure his body was doing what it was supposed to. "Did you like it," I asked. "Yeah," he said, "it was the best." "Good," I said. I sat on the couch watching Ricky playing his video games. I tried to play with him, but he was just too competitive, it was annoying after awhile. He was really comfortable being here now and I knew that I had to do something. I'm not going to lie, I had regrets about having sex with the kid, I knew it couldn't be undone and I worried if I was screwing the kid up. I wondered if he was going to grow up like me, so attracted to boys he put everything else on hold in his life. I'm not an ugly man, in fact I have a lot of women flirt with me, I'm not saying that to brag or make you think I'm some big man, it's just the truth. I never pursue them though, even though I still find women sexy. When I see a young twenty-something chick with big breasts and a tight ass, I want to tap it as much as the next guy, it's just if I see that girl standing next to a young boy, I can't keep my eyes off of the boy. That's the reason I never had kids, I was always afraid what happened with Ricky would happen to them. I didn't want to be the father that went into his son's room every night and fondled him while the boy acted like he was asleep. Now I'm not saying that a boy and a man can't have sex and enjoy it or that if the boy has sex with a man he's going to grow up a wierdo, I know the truth. I've read the papers, I studied psychology, and I know men who had sex as boys, but I also know about incest. My brother fucked me almost every night from the time I was seven until I turned eleven and finally ran away. My mom caught us and she said it was just boys being boys. It didn't seem to matter he was nearly eight years older than me. My brother never gave me a choice, if he was horny, I had to do my duties. When I finally told my father he put us in separate rooms, but he started to call me a fag and he kept thinking I was trying to seduce him. Even that never stopped my brother, he still did shit after that, only then I knew no one really cared. I finally got fed up and left. I was only eleven, but at least when I hit the street I got a choice where my life was going or at least I thought I did. Turning tricks was never a hard decision for me, because I'd had sex enough times, it didn't really scare me. The hard part for me was figuring out all the little things that were big things out there. I learned quick to steer clear of the older kids, because half of them would try to fuck you as quick as any john and they didn't pay. Some of the kids on the street are worse than the johns. I was a quick learner and I was brutal when I had to be. I nearly bit a kids finger off when he tried to steal my jacket. It was too small for him to wear, but he still wanted it. A lot of people think that's what living on the streets is about though, fighting, it isn't, it's about learning to avoid fights, same as when you're in the institutes. You have to know how to handle yourself, where you're at. When I was sixteen I had a choice of going to jail or a trade school, I chose the trade school. I had to live on campus with a hundred other boys from the streets. To be honest there wasn't a lot of sex at that school, but some of the places I heard about, man you had to watch everyone, guards, counselors, teachers, even the kids. The only twisted guy at the trade school I was at was this guard who kept singling me out for cavity searches, he seemed to get off sticking his fingers up my ass. I got my GED from that place, the only thing I actually learned there that ended up being worth anything in the long run, got me into college and I got an education. I lived on grants and loans for four years. You'd think with my oversexed childhood, I'd have been a ravenous boy lover from the the get go, but little boys really didn't turn me on, I got this weird feeling around them, but I didn't know why. It wasn't 'til I started to room with Charlie and Manuel that I figured it out. They had boys over all the time. I thought it was weird, but I never said anything. One night I turned on the TV and there was a DVD in the machine, it was blank and I was curious, so I played it. I sat there for thirty minutes watching Charlie going to town on this little twelve year old hispanic boy. It was graphic shit and I ended up jerking off. I never said anything about it, but to this day I wish I had never watched that movie, because after that every boy I saw was sexy. I got my first blowjob from a boy in that house, a blonde haired little ten year old came over when Charlie and Manuel were gone. When I told him they were out, he asked if there was anything he could do to earn money. Five minutes later the kid was wailing his little lungs out as I fucked him up the ass. I gave him twenty-five dollars and told him not to say a word. I felt really guilty about that, but not so guilty that I didn't take advantage of the situation. The boy's name was Brian and when he came over it was like he was my boy. Charlie and Manuel didn't seem to care, they had other boys, they were happy to share. I never told them what happened when I took the boy to my room and they never asked. I liked Brian, but not like Ricky. Brian was cute, but he was a slut, and I'm not saying that to be mean, but the kid was hooked on sex. He liked to fuck and he loved sucking cock. There were a lot of times when I didn't have money that he still wanted to do it. That's not to say he wasn't innocent, he was. The money he got was spent on video games, bikes, and other stuff that his mom wouldn't buy him. I moved away when Brian was twelve and he cried and begged me to stay, but I couldn't, Charlie and Manuel were just too crazy. I ran into Brian awhile ago, he's twenty now and he was so happy to see me he hugged me. He didn't say, 'you bastard you raped me, I'm going to kill you', instead he asked, 'why didn't you ever come back to see me?' I told him the truth, that I was afraid. We talked for awhile, had a few beers. He gave me his number and asked me to call him. He told me he was gay, but that I didn't turn him gay, he was like that before we met. I found out that I was the first to fuck him, he remembered the first time and joked about it, said he was still a little screamer. You would think that would take away some of my guilt, but it didn't. Now as I watched little Ricky sitting in his chair, wearing his boxers and a tank top, I wondered if I was turning him gay? I wondered what I was doing to this boy, that up until yesterday didn't even know how to jerk off. He looked at me watching him and smiled mischievously opening his legs a bit more. Five minutes later he was sitting next to me on the couch pawing at my crotch. I watched as he squeezed my cock in his hand, looking at the trickle of pre-cum, probably thinking it was for him and not that first little boy I had sex with so long ago. "Do you want me to suck it," he asked. "Yeah," I said, "but only if you want to." He grinned and knelt down in front of me, looking up at me as his lips touched my glans. I groaned, remembering for a second little Brian, who used to tease me by running his tongue over the head of my penis. To be continued...