Date: Sat, 02 Feb 2002 19:11:30 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Back to the Playground, 7

This is a story involving boy/boy, teen/boy, male/male
graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If
you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where
you live, please stop now, and go read something else!

This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the
purpose of pleasurable reading. It explores themes which
some readers may find offensive or disturbing. It's not
meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex, or to
condone sex with minors.


Feedback: javabiscuit@hotmail.com


Back to the Playground ~ chapter seven


by Biscuit


It stopped being about games for me with
Skyler, though we didn't stop playing. In my
mind, at least, once I'd given him the freedom
to touch me however he wanted to, it was sex.
I've known grown men who were downright
goofy when you got them naked in bed, who'd
pretend their dicks were talking to you, and
refer to their cocks by names like Mr. Happy
or shit like that. Skyler was a kid, but when it
came to sex, he had a serious streak a mile wide.
Even when he was playful. It was like the alien
power game with no blades of grass thrown
first. That same face on him, imploring and
demanding as the first time he'd caught me in
my hiding place behind the playground. The
bottom lip would curve out and the dark blue
eyes would smolder when he was touching me.
He liked me to lie on my back on the couch
with my pants down and my shirt open, sitting
on my thighs like a landowner surveying his
acreage.

By the time he put his mouth around my cock
it was usually close to the last straw for me. I
didn't always last long enough for him to get
there, even with his exhortations of "wait, not
yet ..." as he'd invent new ways to torment me.
He had a thing he liked to do, where he'd use
my dick to paint his face, tracing his eyebrows,
his nose, his lips, even his jaw, over his cheeks.
Stopping to lick me, his grasping fingers never
still on my shaft. Those dark blue eyes would
peer up at me in the midst of his sensuous
self portrait and I'd want to beg him to finish
me. I knew his wetted lips were going to open
eventually and take me in and I'd be dying for
it.

A variation of that game was him kneeling
over my face and running his swollen little
cock over my mouth. He'd say to me, "open
just a little..." and tease himself, dipping into
my lips, finding my tongue and rubbing
against it, then pulling out and running the
wet head over my lips like some kind of flesh
lipstick. Serious games though it made us
both laugh until he'd finally want me to suck
him for real. I'd have to brace my hands on his
thighs to keep him from battering me with his
pelvis when he got close to coming.

I spent three years living with Karl and Helen,
taking care of my very young fiancé when he
came home from school in the afternoons. A
better three years I can't remember. The time
sped past. Who would have thought that all I
needed was a schedule, a set of chores, and a
little blond boy bursting through the door at
about three thirty or four every day, depending
on his after school stuff. I finished high school,
pretty fast considering how far behind I'd been.
But that's what happens when it's just you, the
teachers and the work. I started taking studio art
classes at a place downtown called the Art
Student's League.

I was casting around for something,  anything.
Before all my troubles had started with school,
I'd loved to draw and paint and had continued
dabbling with it even through the worst times.
So I signed up for some classes where I'd go
stare at naked people and sketch them in life
drawing sessions and then I'd paint them in a
water color class. All with plenty of time left to
be home for Skyler when he got out of school.

My visits to the shrink's office were down from
five to twice a week. All in all, I was doing pretty
well when Helen got pregnant, decided that my
room was needed for the baby's nursery and she
asked me to move out. My brother was apologetic
but I knew it wasn't his decision. What could he
say? He offered to front me money from my trust
fund to get myself a place. What could I say? I
don't want to leave my ten year old lover?

It was too good to last, I guess. Only my shrink
knew I was falling to pieces over the whole thing.
He suggested that we up our visits to three times
a week, for awhile, at least until I got settled
somewhere.

I tried to convince myself and Skyler that it was
a good thing. That he needed to get more involved
with kids his age. A pretty shallow argument since
he was very involved with kids his age, in a ton of
school clubs and whatnot. To myself I said, better
for him to be out of easy reach for me. I mean,
how long could I go on building my life around a
kid? In essence, that's exactly what I'd done.

God, it sucked so bad. My sister Lisa was furious,
but she wasn't ready to take me back in. She had a
new boyfriend who'd just moved in with her. And,
though I'd been forgiven, long ago, the thing I did
with Joe Todd had not been forgotten. Fine with
me really; Brooklyn was too far away from Skyler,
not that I knew how I'd contrive to see him.

Trent was living with Daryl then, in a brownstone
on 103rd street. He told me the top floor studio
apartment was empty and I ended up renting it.

It was pathetic how little I owned. I moved in one
trip downtown on the subway with a back pack
and a duffel bag. Karl, feeling guiltier yet when
he saw how little I had, forked over money for
stuff like a bed and junk for my kitchen. I had
nothing.

I'm not good at transitions. I had like a permanent
taste of latex in my throat through the month of
April, the first month I spent on my own. I was on
my knees in the park so often my jeans were all
getting worn through. It was a binge of compulsive
cock sucking, but I wouldn't let any of those guys
touch me, with their dicks or their hands. I'd jerk
myself off while I did them. It would turn me on
to think about doing it, but the actual doing of it
wasn't that good. Half the time, I didn't even feel
like finishing them or myself.

There really was only one cock I wanted. The only
naked cock I'd sucked since my childhood. I craved
Skyler so bad I tasted him in my dreams.

It was in May that Charlotte called and more or less
saved my life. She was seeing a guy that didn't live
that far from me on Riverside Drive. Would I be
willing to have Skyler spend the night at my place,
once in a while? She thanked me profusely when I
agreed, telling me what a lifesaver it was. And, of
course, she was right.

A breezy spring afternoon, I cleaned my humble
apartment and went out to the grocery store, with
an actual interest in buying food for the first time
in forever. Well, more than a month that had felt
like forever. I was drunk with happiness. On my
way home I even bought flowers, a riot of daisies.

I sat outside on the steps to wait so she wouldn't
have to park the car; he could just get out. God, I
was too excited for words. When I saw him, he
took my breath away. It had only been a little more
than a month and I felt like I'd been cheated every
day I hadn't seen that shining face of his. He was
hanging out the car window, his hair was a mess.
I saw him the moment his eyes found me, waiting
for him, and the beam of joy he shot me made me
laugh out loud.

"I'll call you around noon," Charlotte was saying
as Skyler bounded from the car.

"Fine," I told her. "Whenever." With a wave, she
was gone and Skyler was dragging me upstairs by
the hand.

He was enthralled by everything.

"Wow, Brandy, the whole floor is yours!"

With Skyler in it, it was a damn fine apartment. It
consisted one long narrow room, really. The back
was the kitchen and bathroom and the front had a
drawing table and some painting things. The middle
was everything else, my bed, a scrap of a couch and
my TV. With Skyler naked on that bed, the place had
a palpable center to it, everything else radiated out
from there.

My little wrestler with his growing body. God, he
was a gorgeous thing, taller and broader it seemed,
every time I saw him. He was not the little guy he'd
been. Unbelievable what change is wrought in three
years. He was shoulder high to me and already had
as much definition to his chest and stomach as I ever
would.

I don't think I left an inch of his body unkissed. He
reveled in my attention like a plant that's gone too
long without water. As much as I could pour into
him, he soaked up. He loved attention, but he wasn't
good at accepting it passively. At ten, he was no more
patient or less aggressive than he'd ever been. He
could only lie still and be petted just so long. Then it
was a bout or wrestling match of a sort that he'd win,
scraping as much of our bare skin together as he
could manage.

I think the separation, though it was brief, terrified
both of us. We were used to the summer camp thing,
which was two months apart. But this was different.
This had been much shakier ground where neither of
us were sure how, if, or when we'd be together again.
Shocking after so much uninterrupted intimacy. I got
my kisses and pets in, in between happy grappling
matches. Then we stuffed ourselves with Skyler's
favorite dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Best of all,
really, was the luxury of spending the night together.
A sleepy Skyler was a thing of beauty, malleable,
sweet, and infinitely willing to cuddle.

So I lived for the weekends in spring. I was used to
surviving his eight weeks at summer camp. Every
night I prayed for Charlotte to continue her fling
with the guy on Riverside Drive. I wished the guy
would ask her to marry him and they'd move in
with him. Happy fantasies for me.

In the meantime, Trent turned out to be almost as
bad as his mom when it came to setting up dates.
He kept trying to introduce me to guys. Through
the summer, he'd have little dinners downstairs to
have me meet guys that he or Daryl thought I
might like. It really was very sweet of them and
there were a few that I ended up seeing more than
once. At first there was some strain between me
and Daryl. He never was that crazy about me. He
thought I was spoiled, because he knew my family
had money. And I was far too pretty for his taste.
He was the kind of of person who equated looks
like mine with low IQ, a kind of blond thing. But
at the heart of his not liking me, I'm sure, was
just knowing I'd fucked his boyfriend. It didn't
matter that it had been years before, that it had
never been serious between me and Trent. Just
knowing it was enough. That was part of why he
was eager to match me up with somebody.

Even so, we got on as well as we could and I
think he calmed down as time went on and it was
obvious that there was nothing between me and
Trent but friendship. They had the other two
floors of that building and for me it gave a solid
feel to the place, like they weighted it down for
me. To make them happy, more than anything
else, I'd date one of their friends from time to
time. But my eyes were always on the calendar,
counting the days until Skyler would be home.

I did equate what went on with me and Skyler
to my past, to a certain extent. A shrink will do
that for you, if nothing else. Getting you thinking
along certain lines, even if they do it subtly. Just
the questions he'd ask, the direction of comments,
led me to believe he thought I was care taking
myself through Skyler. Trying to be to him what
my shrink thought I'd wanted from Josh.

God knows, that had been very different. I used
to feel like Josh loved me, in a way, though
Lauren was much more affectionate, and Philip
was a better friend to me. Somehow Josh got more
tangled up in my mind with the death of my dad.
Isn't it always like that with shrinks. Everything's
about death and your folks. Whatever. I can't say
I saw it so clearly. I still don't see what sucking
cock has to do with the death of my dad.

Sometimes I'd get this mouth watering thing
happening during a session with him. He said
it was me thinking about sucking him. Maybe. I'd
check him out sometimes, to see if he was turned
on by all that talk about me sucking cock, but with
the folder of my files and his clipboard on his lap,
who could tell?

Anyway, I was back down to two sessions a week.

I did some portrait sketching, of Trent and Daryl,
and of course, of Skyler. His I had to work on
from pictures. The little bastard couldn't sit still
long enough to be drawn, except in quick studies,
from life.

One thing about Skyler's mom you could almost
always count on, she liked to go away for Labor
Day Weekend. Thank you, God. And as ever, I
was more than willing to keep Skyler with me.

She offered for me to come stay up there with
him, but Skyler preferred to come stay with me.
So, she shrugged at the whim of her child and
dropped him off at my doorstep. Heaven. I think
that year he'd made me some weird kind of pen
and pencil holder at camp. Still got it, somewhere.