Date: Fri, 31 Mar 2023 16:20:42 +0000 (UTC) From: Chris Heineke Subject: Owned by a Neighborhood Kid (Chapter 2) It's been three weeks since Ian, a neighborhood boy of 15, blew in - and out - of my life. He left me feeling violated, but also weirdly triumphant. It was my first sexual experience of any real note, and even though I could never actually tell anyone about it, it felt like such a weight lifted to have that behind me. I guess I'm still a "virgin" by definition, but this experience was enough to at least move the goalposts. At the same time, this kid made me look stupid, and weak. And I am embarrassed I got played. He was everything I wanted to be: confident, assured... hung. And at 15. Jesus. Life is not fucking fair that someone like that even exists. An entire life of sexual conquest in front of him. Just imagining him a few years down the road, at college, doing all the things I wish I did in those days. Sticking his prick inside the hottest young girls. Giving them the same seed he sprayed all over my cheeks. It was literally keeping me up at night. My diminutive boner tormenting me. Unable to abate. I had to be honest with myself. For all the undeniable, pent up lust unleashed by Ian in me, I was terrified of the practical side of the matter. I was playing out the worst-case scenarios in my head over and over again. The age of consent in Texas is 17. What I did was blatantly illegal. I mean, he was the aggressor, right? But try explaining to a conservative jury that the 30-something incel was the victim. I wouldn't stand a chance. So what did he have? A photo of me with cum on my face. Sure, I don't want my friends to see that, but that's not illegal by itself. I was probably in the clear unless there was something I was missing. Still, a big piece of me was waiting for him to show up on my street again. I was running even more. Every day the sun feeling hotter, beating down on me unrelentlessly. I began skipping my normally scheduled days off, always running just before noon just like when saw Ian. My legs were dog tired. I've never extended myself this much physically. Sure, I'm only 31 but I still have limits. Nothing. Did I imagine it? How could this force of nature just appear ephemerally never to be seen again? It didn't make sense. With each passing day my desire, and my fear of legal retribution diminished... and yet, a sense of disappointment grew. And then suddenly...there he was. It was a Monday, now mid-June. I had just woken and began sipping a stellar cup of coffee produced by my French press - my new obsession. I looked out the front window at something I hadn't seen before, on the edge of my front lawn at least. A row of children, of all ages, all in their backpacks, all looking down at their phones, seemingly bored. Waiting for...the bus? And there he was at the far end. Separated from the rest of the pack by a few feet. The oldest and tallest by far. Unmistakably Ian. Wearing a sleeveless tee with his school's name across the front and gym shorts. Looking every bit the athlete I knew he was. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, he looked back at my house, in my window, at me. He saw me watching him, I was sure of it. I instinctively ducked - crawled out of range until I could stand up again without line of sight. Playing chicken in my own house so a fifteen year old couldn't see me. I'm so pathetic. A minute later, carefully watching from the considered vantage point of my upstairs bedroom, I spied the bus coming and scooping the row of kids. Ian slipped on last taking a seat in the very back. Summer school. Of course. It just started this week. For the next two and a half months, this boy I've been lusting over is going to be a mere thirty feet away twice a day. Just my luck, I just don't know if it's good or bad. I hoped work would keep my occupied but this glimpse of the boy God made it impossible to focus. Here it was, proof that I'm not completely delusional. That this fever dream that's ruled my life for weeks is confirmed as reality. Ian, again, in the flesh. I stared out the window from my office where he had just been standing, completely lost in thought. On a work call in the early afternoon, my boss recognized my absence immediately and snapped me back to reality. "FOCUS," I told myself. And then I did. It took immense mental energy, but I got there. Emails sent. Code written. Things were coming together. I started heading down the stairs for a celebratory snack when.. *KNOCK KNOCK* Shit, someone is at the door. As a millennial, who doesn't like talking to the mailman, let alone some stranger asking for who knows what, I never answer the door. I mean, I get maybe one knock a month? I retreated back upstairs, wanting to avoid whoever was there to even see my shadow through the frosted glass lining my small front porch. Fortunately, I had just installed a Ring doorbell. A way to bolster the tech appeal of my home while giving me a leg up on anyone presenting themselves at my door, but I new the truth I wasn't telling myself is that it was really a way to serendipitously record the goings on the street in front of my house in the time since the encounter. This was the first time it was paying for itself in utility. I pulled my phone out and opened the Ring app to take a look. My breath became heavy. Adrenaline started pumping throughout my body. My dick slowly rose to attention. It was Ian. The confusion was so real. I had no idea what he wanted, but was it worth even finding out? I knew I could end this right now forever by not answering, by never answering again. Just ignore him and he'll go away. But, fuck, I had been fishing for that feeling he gave me last month, like a drug you can't take for the first time twice. My orgasms had been incredible thinking of him, but like with all things and time, that was fading. And truthfully, in that moment, I realized that more than anything else I didn't want to disappoint him. Like I wanted his respect or something. I needed to at least see what he had to say. I threw a ball cap on, headed down to the front door, gulped, and opened.... Standing there, same shirt and shorts as this morning, backpack on, was Ian. He must have come as soon as the bus dropped him off. He was curiously focused on his phone, looking down, clearly working on something. "Hey, boss," he opened with, still looking down. Boss? This always bothered me as a term of endearment. I never felt like anyone's boss, but coming from him...I dunno he made it sound cool. "Can I get your wifi?" He continued. "Hey...s, sorry. My Wi-fi?" I was a bit stunned. Already nervous as hell. My heart beating in my chest. This was not the question I was expecting from him. "Yeah, dude. Summer school starts this week and my cell service is shit around here. I want to be able to watch TikTok waiting for the bus. You're, uh... `Chance the Router`, right?" I immediately started blushing, or so it felt. I thought when I set it up that it was a clever pun, but coming out of this teen's mouth I felt like the biggest dork on the planet. I made a mental note to change the name to something less conspicuous. "I mean...yeah, that's my wi-fi yeah." "Had a feeling." He smirked and suddenly met my eyes for the first time in this conversation. He held it there for just long enough to make his point. It absolutely killed me. "They just moved the stop right in front of your house. What's the password? Trying now." Honestly, as a tech guy, I was a little embarrassed to admit I hadn't bothered changing it since the cable company sent their dude out when I bought the house. I had it on a piece of paper somewhere. A bunch of gobbeldy-gook we're lucky enough in the 2020's to not have to remember ever. I took my phone out and immediately got a notification someone was requesting my network's password. Within seconds, Ian was subscribed. "Thanks, boss. This helps a lot." Ian was back to looking down at his phone exclusively. Double-checking my handiwork. "Of course. Whatever you need." Whatever you need? What the fuck did that mean? I instantly felt like an idiot. Like clockwork. Always good for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. The life of being socially awkward. Luckily, he was so absorbed in his phone I don't think he noticed. I was almost let down this interaction was nearing its end. "Cool, man. Take care then," I said as I started to close the door. "No, hey wait! It's not working." "Sorry?" I asked, a flutter I get even a few more words with him. "Yeah, I'm on, but nothing's working," he said as he held his phone out to me. Now I know computers. It's my job. I was just on this network a few minutes ago streaming video to my office halfway across the country in Florida. My confidence was incredibly high the network was not the issue. I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket and tried to load Instagram. Then my email. Then google in my mobile browser. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. "Fuck, well look at that. I guess it's not working for me either." "Your router is in your bedroom, right?" I was already embarrassed that I was wrong, but how the fuck did he know that? It hit me like a bunker buster missile right in my chest. My adrenaline kicked into high gear, this felt an intentional lob. "How...," I said almost under my breath. It was the best I could manage in that moment, the shock registering on my face for him to see. "I've been in there, remember?" Another smirk. "Cool if I take a look?" But before I could even begin thinking of a response he had stepped inside and started heading upstairs. I was dumbstruck. Frozen. I just assumed given how much time had passed we would never talk of that again. His reference to it seemed like a dare. And here he is again, in my house. In the room I jerk off to visions of him in. I pull myself together enough to follow him up a few seconds behind. The router was under my desk which I had placed on the wall opposite my bed, scientifically determined to offer the widest wireless coverage across the house and yard, yet off the desk's surface. I hate clutter. I sat down on the bed and watched him get to "work." He bent down on his hands and knees. The sleeveless shirt he had been wearing all day proved a bit too small, hiking itself up in his position, and suddenly I realized I was granted the luxury of staring at the small of his back and the sculpted lines leading down to his buttocks. How happy I was in this moment. "See anything back there," he called out. Shit, I was caught. "Wh... what?" "The lights on the router. Did they flash or anything?" Relief washed over me. He was so up against the wall he couldn't see the front of the router let alone my face. It was a dumb reaction to have had. "Umm..I think so? Sorry, man. I wasn't paying attention." "Doesn't matter. Try now." Sure enough, a couple Twitter alerts came through to my phone right in that moment. Pent up from the downtime. "Yeah, I think we're good," I replied. "What did you even do?" "Just unplugged it and plugged it in again. Always works for me at home." Ah. Of course. And here I was thinking the kid having to take summer school presumedly to catch up was some how a computer networking savant. I let out an audible chuckle, starting to get comfortable with his presence. The more we've interacted the more I wonder if I had the wrong idea. He's just a simple kid. Happy go lucky. Innocent. The kind of kid that challenges strangers to a footrace. Who waltzs into someone's home to fix their internet without the first thought. He took out his phone to confirm and seem satisfied. "That deserves a... reward, don't you think?" He quipped. I gulped. The emphasis on the word "reward" seemed leading, counter to everything I was just thinking about him. "Heheh. I mean, look. I know how to plug in a router, man," I replied. "Lighten up, dude. It's not like I'm making you pay me. Was thinking like a Coke or something." Making me? My dick instinctively twitched hard at his intentional use of words. I looked down for a split second to size up my embarrassment and then back up to find him looking at me dead in the eyes. There was no mistaking. He was on to me. The bulge in my shorts was growing fast. I immediately got deja vu. I didn't want to run away like last time, it made me look so pathetic and weak, but so was sitting there brain-dead with a tent over my crotch. He slyly switched to a look of smug satisfaction. Proof he had me dead to rights. I was helpless in that moment. He knew it and pounced. "Seems like maybe you want to pay me another way." The same intense feeling from last time rushed back. Ears ringing. Confused. Nearly blacking out. My body just didn't know how to process this much lust and fear all at once. Those things should be at odds, but here they fed off each other in a perpetual feedback loop. He took a step forward and quickly dropped his shorts, them stacking on top of his sneakers. His perfect, circumcised dick was growing before my very eyes. 4.. 5.. 6 inches... more. I didn't need the extra push he gave me last time. Nearly a month of dreaming about this moment, beginning to believe it would never happen again, now coming true. I couldn't even stand up to close the remaining gap. My body wasn't functioning properly anymore. I dropped to my knees and crawled the last few feet like a man dying of thirst approaching the river's edge. I took his veiny cock in my mouth and began working. In and out. Rhythmically as before. He grabbed my hair and moved my head for me. Making me go faster, then slower, then faster again. Fuck, how did he know what he was doing? He's done this with others before, clearly. A girlfriend? Am I not the first man he's conquered? All of a sudden he grabs the back of my head with both hands and pushes, hard. I feel his thickness slide back and back, to the edge of my throat. Beyond even. I try taking a breath but no air can get it. He holds me there for what seems like an eternity, I can feel tears welling up. My face feels flush and tingly. He finally lets up, removing his cock, and I gasp for breath. "Shhh, shhh, shhh," he reassures me. "That's good. Close your eyes." He reinserts his dick and I resume. I instinctively look up at him for a split second. "I said close your eyes, fuckhead! Don't open them again until I tell you." I was so mad at myself for disobeying. I wanted nothing more than to please Ian in this moment. The face fucking continued. I was getting the hang of it. Enjoying it really. I kept my eyes closed as ordered, focusing on the feeling it gave me. The flesh poking me over and over again. Hypnotically. I lost track of time. It felt like way longer than the half-minute it lasted when he first dominated me, but who knows. At some point the rhythm stopped, but I had presence of mind to not look. I would not disappoint him again. Then, that familiar feeling. Magma hot, ropes of cum blasting me in my face. It took everything I had to keep my eyes closed. "Fuuuuuuck," Ian exhaled. A few moments later, he took what felt like his thumb and hooked me like a fish inside my mouth, spreading his seed across my lips in the process. "Open" - was all he said. It took a second to focus. Like coming out of a long movie into the daylight. My eyes recovered and I looked up with doe eyes at Ian, horrified to see he was pointing his phone at me. I was slapped back to the crushing reality that this could get me in life-ending trouble. Ankle bracelets. Prison. I'm not the kind of man that would do well in prison. I stood up and grabbed a used towel that happened to be nearby, wiping the disgusting semen from my face. "WHAT THE FUCK, MAN," I said exasperatingly. I weighed my options best I could in the confusion of the moment. At the end of the day he's just a child, I have 20 lbs on him. I'm in decent shape, probably stronger. Just take his phone. End this whole charade right now. No one is going to believe the truth if he tells. Instinct takes over and a lunge at the phone still in his hand. I grab it, but he grabs my forearm in the process. He's strong than I anticipated, and I immediately regret my action. My coup was failing. I took my other hand to try to gain leverage. It wasn't too late. We struggled for a few seconds. "Stop it.....STOP.......Stop it now, dude" Ian was getting angry observing this pathetic display. He took he free hand and slapped me hard across the face. "I SAID STOP." I stopped. My face stinging. Shock doing the work of calming me down for once. "It's no use, Chris," he explained. "I'm on your wi-fi remember? iCloud, duh. Take my phone, you idiot. The video will be waiting for me when I get home." I knew I was beat. I slumped down on the floor feeling broken, holding back tears. My chest felt like it was caving in. It was clear to any objective observer how small I was in this moment. "Stop being such a little bitch," He said, disgusted. "Now write down your phone number." "What?" "WRITE DOWN YOUR FUCKING PHONE NUMBER." I snapped to attention. Grabbed a pen from my desk and a blank sheet of paper from my nearby printer. I wrote it down and handed it to him, my shaking hand causing the awkwardly large paper to flap in midair. It was hard for him to grab so he snatched at it full-fist, balling and folding it at once. He turned around and left without another word. The sound of steps and a door closing reverberating through the otherwise quiet house. I picked myself up and went to the shower, the cleansing water a needed absolution. My cock was still rock-hard, my subconscious screaming at me to accept what has happened twice now as desired. Ian played me again, and weirdly, I loved it. I got out and began drying off. My phone buzzed and a lump formed in my throat. Unknown number, local area code. It was a message. The video of course. The caption read "Smile for the camera. :)". I tapped play.