Date: Tue, 7 Oct 2008 14:09:26 -0700 (PDT) From: Sebastian Fforde Subject: Smelly Sneakers for Skyler Smelly Sneakers for Skyler Copyright 2008 Sebastian Fforde (Bb, oral, feet, sneakers) This story is completely fiction. Well, most of it is, anyway. If you aren't interested in reading a sexually explicit story about a boy with a sneaker fetish, then you can stop right now. But if you ARE interested, then read on. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. *** I really like smelly boy feet. Okay, I really LOVE smelly boy feet! I love smelly boy feet, socks and sneakers! There I said it. You probably think I'm weird now, but I'm going to tell the story anyway. I knew I liked feet before I knew I liked other boys and before I knew what sex was. It all started when I was really little. My Uncle Jerry used to babysit me. I guess he must have been in high school at the time. I remember there was a lot of rough-housing. We wrestled together a lot, and sometimes for fun he used to `torture' me by tying me up and tickling me. I always pretended to struggle, but secretly I loved the feeling of this older boy taking control over me. I loved the feeling of being helpless, tied up and teased by Uncle Jerry. One afternoon Uncle Jerry had me wrapped up on the floor like a mummy in a blanket. Only my head and feet were sticking out. He was sitting on the sofa with his feet near my face. He tickled my bare feet until I begged him to stop. Then he did something that surprised me. He took off his socks and began to rub his smelly teen feet in my face. "Smell my feet, Skyler! Yeah, smell `em!" I was used to Uncle Jerry's style of play, so I didn't mind his feet in my face at all. It was better than him farting in my face, which was another thing he used to do to me when I was tied up. So I sniffed Uncle Jerry's sweaty feet without complaining. "How do my feet smell, Skyler? You like that?" "They're stinky. You should clean your feet." "Ha-ha! Maybe YOU clean my feet!" "I can't clean your feet. I'm all tied up!" "Of course you can clean my feet." "No I can't. I can't do anything but smell your stinky feet!" "How does Tigger clean herself?" Tigger was the family cat. I thought for a moment, but didn't have an answer. "I dunno." "Think, Skyler. How does Tigger clean herself?" "She licks herself." "She uses her tongue. Okay, Skyler, lick my smelly feet clean like a cat!" As always, I had to at least pretend to struggle. "No!" Uncle Jerry put both feet on my face. "I'm gonna suffocate you with my stinky feet on your face unless you start licking them clean!" I opened my mouth and began stroking the soles of his feet with my tongue, savoring the salty taste. "Good boy. Now purr like a cat." I started to purr as I licked my uncle's soles. He moved his feet around on my face so that I could lick every inch of each foot. Then he stuck his toes in my mouth and wiggled them around. That's when I got my very first woody. I never told anyone that. The first time I ever got a hard-on was when I was tied up in a blanket, sucking my uncle's toes. Kind of weird, isn't it? Soon foot play became an important part of the babysitting experience with Uncle Jerry. Usually he'd tie me up and put his feet on my face, but sometimes he would gag me with a dirty sweat sock or make me sniff his smelly sneaker. If he didn't tie me I'd have to give him foot rubs that would always end with me licking all the dirt out from between his toes. I had a raging hard-on every time I did it. The funny thing is that we never went further than the feet. When I look back on our little games, it's so obvious to me that there was something sexual happening between us, but I was too young to understand what was going on. And I guess he was uncomfortable with going as far as he really wanted to go. Uncle Jerry is in the Coast Guard now, and I rarely get to see him anymore. And when I do, it's at family gatherings where we don't have the privacy to resume our favorite games. And besides, he's engaged to be married and I don't think he's interested in me in that way anymore. So I guess that's what started it for me. I crave the smell of feet, socks and sneakers. Another confession – I have a secret stash of my friends' smelly socks in Ziploc bags under my bed. I always try to steal a pair or two whenever I go over one of my friend's houses. *** I was sitting in the school cafeteria one day with my friend Marten. Marten was an excellent student, but it was clear from the way he was dressed that his family couldn't afford to buy him new clothing. Especially not new sneakers. Marten wore the nastiest, most ripped-up pair of Reeboks I had ever seen. I had secretly been trying to find a way to get a hold of those sneakers for weeks, but the timing never was right. Marten was going on and on about his academic aspirations. I wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. I just nodded to whatever he was saying. "You gotta think about all this stuff, Skyler. Volunteering, extracurricular stuff. It looks great on an application. You gotta start thinking about where you want to go to high school. A good high school means a better chance of getting into a good college. Skyler, why are you staring at my sneakers?" "Huh?" "You're staring at my sneakers. What's wrong with them?" Nothing was wrong with them, in my opinion. They were just perfect! For the first time I noticed how foul and nasty Marten's sneakers were, I wanted to take them off his feet and smell them. I was starting to get aroused sitting next to Marten and looking at his sneakers. "Nothing. They're just cool." "They're not cool. They're ripped to shreds. I wish I could get a new pair. Now as I was saying, Skyler, your essay in English class was really good. I think you're a good writer, and you're obviously very intelligent. But I don't think you're making good use of the brains that God gave you. Hanging around with the wrong people. Have you thought about where you're going to be going to high school?" I shrugged. "Central, I guess." "I think you would do a lot better in a private school. Have you ever heard of Ramsbottom Academy for Boys?" "No." "Well, next year I'm applying to Ramsbottom. It's very prestigious. They don't take just anybody. My uncle Francis went there, and he's going to write me a letter of recommendation. You might want to consider applying, too. I hear it's a great place to make important connections." Then, almost without warning, Marten got angry. "You're judging me, aren't you?!" he shouted. "What the hell do you mean? I'm not judging you! I'm just listening." "You are too! You keep looking at my beat-up old sneakers! It's not my fault my parents can't afford to get me new ones!" Marten sounded like he was going to cry. "Marten, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad about your sneakers!" I felt bad for the boy, but I was also relieved. I was glad he didn't see the hard-on that his filthy sneakers were giving me. "It's okay." I tried to comfort him. "That's why I want to get out of this fucking town!" Marten shouted, with tears in his eyes. "I just want to get away! That's why I need to get the scholarship to Ramsbottom!" Marten had been encouraging me to try to get better grades, and kept pushing the idea of applying to Ramsbottom on me. I started to take the idea seriously. Marten would walk home from school with me and we would go to his house and study together. I would also listen to Marten talk about his dreams of attending Ramsbottom. I also wanted to go to Ramsbottom, he made it sound like such a great place. When Marten's birthday came around, I had a special present for him. Marten had still been wearing his wrecked Reeboks, and I could tell they were getting smellier than ever. I discreetly found out what Marten's shoe size was (size 8, in case you're wondering). I had finally saved up my allowance for a month to buy him a new pair of Nikes. I gave them to Marten when he met me to walk home with him after school. He was stunned when he saw the new sneakers. "I don't know what to say, Skyler! You shouldn't have! I'm so glad I have a friend like you!" He gave me a big hug. "Try them on!" I said, excited. "Oh, thank you!" He leaned up against a telephone pole and took off his old Reeboks. "Boy, will I be glad to get rid of those ugly old things! I never want to see them again!" Delighted, Marten tested out his new Nikes. I picked up his smelly old pair that I had been coveting for so long. "Hey, gimme those! There's a garbage can on the street corner. I'm gonna throw them away right now!" I wouldn't let his sneakers go. "That's okay; I'll take care of them for you." Maartin gave me a suspicious look. "What the hell are you going to do with them? They're ruined. Just throw them away." "Don't worry, Maartin. I said I'll take care of them," I said. "What are you going to do with them? They're practically unwearable." "I dunno. Maybe donate them to charity. Just because you don't want them doesn't mean that someone else might not be thrilled to have them." "You know what, Skyler? You're really kind and thoughtful. Always thinking about people less fortunate than yourself. That's what I like about you." And that's how I finally got my hands on Marten's sneakers. *** Marten's sneakers smelled heavenly. I immediately took them home and locked myself in my bedroom with them. I got onto my bed and put his sneakers on my pillow. I spent a long time sniffing the insides before I began licking them, first on the outside and then on the inside, sucking Marten's sweat out from the worn-out fabric. I must have spent about a half an hour savoring his sneakers before I even touched myself. I was about ready to cum by the time I unzipped my pants. I jacked myself off while huffing a smelly sneaker. It only took a few quick strokes before I shot my load all over my belly. I used Marten's smelly sneakers as a masturbation aid almost every night. They still remained smelly months after I had taken them from him. *** I was pretty excited about the news. Footsies Shoe Store was sponsoring a smelly sneaker contest at Captain B.A. Northrup Middle School. The first prize was $500 and a new pair of sneakers from Footsies. I found myself getting hard just thinking about it. I went home and jacked off while sniffing the Marten's rotten sneakers. While I was jacking off I kept thinking about how fun it would be to be a judge at the sneaker contest. Think of all the sneakers I could be sniffing! I knew exactly what I was going to do – enter Marten's sneakers as my own and try to win the prize. It was held on a Saturday, and I had to take a bus into Bridgewood, the neighboring town where the contest was being held. I felt a secret thrill to be wearing Marten's rotten sneakers on my own feet. I knew he would be pissed off if he ever found out. But then, how could I explain my secret desires to Marten? There weren't a whole lot of people in the Captain B.A. Northrup Middle School cafeteria to see the contest, but they did have a local TV crew there doing a `human interest' story to put on the news that night. They were interviewing the contestants. Most of the contestants were elementary school kids, but a few were high school aged, maybe even college kids. They all had nice, worn-out sneakers. The sneakers were tagged and placed in a row on a table. Several times I made it a point to nonchalantly pass by the sneaker table and try to get a whiff. There were too many people milling around, so I couldn't do what I really wanted to do, which was to shove my nose into every boy's sneaker on the table. I could tell the boys' sneakers from the girls' sneakers pretty easily by the color and style. I avoided the girls' sneakers, which I had no interest in. There were definitely some champion rotten sneakers on that table. I inhaled deeply as others around me coughed and gagged. The announcer was doing some theatrics for the camera. After about fifteen minutes, the judges finally came on stage and inspected the sneakers, carefully sniffing them and taking notes like they were professional wine tasters. Then they announced the finalist of the junior division, for kids 5 to 16 years old. The junior finalist was an eight year old skater kid named Braeden Keller. God, the boy was cute! Braeden's hair was dyed a whimsical shade of green, which added nicely to his skater style. I thought it was cute to see the kid get all excited, high-fiving his parents, jumping up and down and running to the table to get his trophy. The senior division finalist, for anyone 17 and up, went to a sweaty jogger dude. Marten's sneakers, which I had registered as my own, received a respectable Honorable Mention, but no prize. Then the sneakers of the two finalists were placed side by side. The judges took about five minutes to decide who would be the champion. "The judges have made a decision!" The announcer announced. "The winner, the champion with the foulest footwear is - eight year old Braeden Keller!" Little Braeden was bouncing up and down again, and his family and classmates crowded around him and cheered. After the whole thing was over a small crowd formed around Braeden as a local TV reporter interviewed him for the nightly news. I listened in as well. "Braeden, you've been winning smelly sneaker awards all over the country for the past two years. So tell us, Braeden, what's your secret?" "I just keep wearin' em. Sometimes I wear em with socks, but most of the time I wear em without. And I never wash my feet. I wear the same socks until they fall apart." What an amazing kid, I thought. I had admired his sneakers from afar and would have liked to have had an opportunity to smell his feet up close. I would have especially loved to have had an opportunity to get my hands on that kid's socks. Little did I know how lucky I would be. *** I was on my way to meet Marten at the library one Saturday afternoon. It was a beautiful day, and the weather was finally getting nicer. A lot of people were out on the street and in the park, enjoying the sun. Also, a lot of the boys had started wearing sandals and flip-flops. I found myself checking out the toes of every boy that passed me by. The library was on the other side of the park, and I decided to cut through the park to get there. I was on one of the footpaths when I saw the most handsome boy I had ever seen, and yes, he was wearing flip-flops. My eyes were riveted, and I could feel my heart melting. Was this love at first sight? The boy's feet were perfectly formed, but the toenails were nice and dirty. I wanted more than ever to be the one to clean those toenails for him. I found myself staring longingly at him, hoping that he would notice me and maybe our eyes would meet as he walked past me. "Hey, look out!" a little kid on a skateboard squealed as he tried to get out of my way. I was so entranced by my prince charming that I didn't see the pint-sized skater coming straight at me. I jumped to the left just as he had swerved to the left to avoid me. The collision was inevitable. The skateboard had shot out from under him and we collapsed together into a tangled heap. I tried to pull myself from the wreckage and looked around frantically to see if my prince charming was still nearby. I was angry at myself for being such a klutz and embarrassing myself in front of this sexy boy. But alas, my dream boy had disappeared. Damn! Then I noticed the kid that had run into me. He had fallen pretty hard and lay face-down in the dirt. He looked seriously banged up. He was on top of his skateboard, and his legs and feet stuck out in the air. And his right sneaker was only an inch from my nose. I recognized the kid. Let's see – green hair, a pair of really wretched Vans that were coming apart and could be smelled from 6 feet away. Those sneakers belonged to none other than Braeden Keller, the winner of the Footsies Smelly Sneaker Contest. The sole was coming apart and I could see Braeden's cute little toes peeking at me through his ripped sneaker. And the smell was awesome! "Are you okay?" I asked Braeden as I gently picked him up off the ground. He was crying. "I'm really sorry. I should have been looking where I was going." I saw that his forehead was bleeding and his elbows and knees were scraped pretty raw, too. Even though Braeden was pretty badly hurt, he was too proud to admit any pain. "I'm fine!" I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and started to wipe the blood off of his forehead. "I said I'm fine!" he insisted. "I'm just trying to help. It was my fault because I wasn't paying attention, and I feel bad you got hurt." Braeden softened up a little bit. "Thanks. You're really nice. My mom's gonna yell at me for getting blood all over my new shirt. Everyone always yells at me for everything. I'm glad you didn't yell at me. My name's Braeden. What's yours?" "Skyler. Glad to meet you." I tried to think of some sort of ice-breaker to start the conversation. "Hey Braeden, I like your hair color. What kind of dye do you use? I might want to try that some time." "It's this special hair dye called Kool-Aid. I hear some people even try to drink the stuff, but that sounds kinda crazy to me!" I brought Braeden over to a water fountain and tried my best to wash the blood and dirt off of him. He was very appreciative of my attention, and asked me if I wanted to go back home with him. I gladly accepted, forgetting all about Marten, who was still waiting for me at the library. Braeden's mom was angry at him for getting into another skateboard accident, but she was pleased when he told her how nice I was to him when I cleaned out his cuts at the water fountain. "Thank you for taking care of him, Skyler," she said. "Braeden means well, but he's a menace on wheels. I've told him over and over to be careful, but he never listens." "Hey Skyler," Braeden said, tugging at my shirt. "Wanna go to my room and play with my Wii?" Play with Braeden's Wii? Sounded good to me! "Sure. Let's go!" I liked being in Braeden's bedroom. The whole room smelled like his feet. He had several large posters of Ryan Sheckler on his walls and a shelf full of trophies. A few of the trophies were for skateboarding tournaments, but most of them were from smelly sneaker contests from around the country. He was quite proud of his smelly sneaker trophies. "My mom says that it's good to try to be the best at something, but she wishes I was best at something else. I like my old Vans and won't wear any other pair. Problem is I'm outgrowing `em. Look at the way my toes are coming out." "I think you should wear your old Vans for as long as you like," I encouraged him. "I think they're really awesome!" "I'm glad you like them. That's so cool! A lot of kids don't want to hang around me because of how my feet smell. I'm glad it don't bother you." After our first chance meeting, I became pretty friendly with Braeden. Every time I visited Braeden's house I was looking for a chance to steal a pair of his stinky socks, but I never seemed to have the chance. On my third visit, Braeden's parents were planning on going out to his mother's high school reunion. His mother was fretting because the babysitter cancelled at the last minute. "Hey Skyler," she said, rummaging through her purse, "You seem very responsible, and Braeden really likes you. I really appreciate your kindness to him. I know it must be a burden to play with him when you would probably rather hang out with kids your own age." "It's not a burden at all, Mrs. Keller. Braeden's starting to be like the little brother I never had. It's kind of nice the way he looks up to me." "That's great, Skyler. I'm glad you feel that way, because I was just going to ask you if you wouldn't mind babysitting him just for tonight. I'll pay you what I would have given Cheryl if she had showed up tonight – five bucks an hour. Is that okay with you?" Getting paid to babysit the Junior Smelly Sneakers Champion? How could I say no? "Yeah, I can do that. What time will you be back?" Braeden's dad was sitting in the car, honking the horn. "Oh, around midnight or so. You two can help yourselves to whatever you want in the fridge. And make sure Braeden's in bed by 10." I enjoyed babysitting Braeden. We played with his Wii and watched TV. Braeden was in bed at 10:05 and at 10:30 I peeked into his room to make sure he was asleep. His socks and sneakers were still on the floor where he had flung them. Quietly, I crept into his room. He was still asleep. Good. I carefully put a sock in each sneaker and picked the sneakers up off of the floor. I had at least an hour before Braeden's parents would be home and I was going to go into the bathroom and spend a little quality time with Braeden's socks and sneakers. I had a stiffy already. I could hardly control my excitement. I put a sneaker to my nose and inhaled deeply. God, it was intense. I couldn't wait to start jacking off. "You could've just asked, ya know." "Huh?" My heart was pounding. I had been caught! I dropped the sneakers. "If ya wanted to smell `em you coulda just asked." Braeden was sitting up on the bed now. He looked really cute with his green hair all messed up. "I-I-I just" I stammered. "I know." "You do?" "Look, most people hate the smell of my feet. Most people. But a few people love `em. Nobody in between. I used to think it was weird that some people were really into my feet, but now I'm used to it." "Y-y-you mean, other people like your smelly feet, too?" I was stunned. Braeden dug around in the bookcase near the head of his bed. He pulled out a large manila folder. It was filled with printouts from emails. "Here," he said, handing the folder to me. "My fan mail." He had fan mail? I read the first letter: DEAR BRAEDEN: MY NAME IS BOBBY AND I'M 11 YEARS OLD. I SAW YOUR PICTURE IN BOY'S LIFE MAGAZINE IN THE STORY ABOUT THE SNEAKER CONTEST. I THINK YOU'RE WAY COOL!!! YOUR SMELLY SNEAKERS ARE WAY COOL, TOO!! DO YOU LIKE SCOUTING? I AM A WEBELOS NOW. YOUR FRIEND, BOBBY THEREMIN PS. COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE ME BACK AND MAIL ME A PAIR OF YOUR SMELLY SOCKS? THAT WOULD BE REALLY COOL!!! Most of the other emails were something along the lines of the first one. Usually a teenage boy would write that he saw Braeden on TV or in the newspaper, and how he thought Braeden's smelly sneakers were `way cool', and then ask if he could buy the sneakers or have a pair of socks. I couldn't believe that Braeden had received so many fan letters. "Geez, do you actually mail them your socks?" I asked, awestruck. "No. I don't think my mom would let me. But I like to read the emails. I never show any of them to my parents." Then I got to one email that stopped me dead in my tracks. This one was clearly written by a grown-up. It started out something like the other emails, but as I read on the letter got more and more perverted: AND AFTER I SUCK YOUR DICK I'M GOING TO THROW YOU ON THE BED, SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT WHILE YOU SHOVE YOUR NASTY LITTLE FEET INTO MY MOUTH The email went on like that for a few pages. While I thought the email was very arousing, I was shocked that someone would actually write something like that to such a little kid. "Braeden, do you understand what this email means?" I asked him. I wanted to find out how much or how little he actually understood about the content of the email. "Oh yeah, that guy wants to do sexing with me." Braeden said matter-of-factly. "I think he's like a senator or something." We had been sitting in the dark ever since Braeden caught me sniffing his sneakers. I finally decided to turn a lamp on. It was more like a night light, and after I turned it on a soft orange glow illuminated Braeden's elfin face. "Do you know a lot about `sexing', Braeden?" I asked. "Of course. I know all about sexing. I learned about it from the Howard Stern show." "Okay, Braeden," I said, putting the emails back in the envelope. "Since you've already caught me smelling your sneakers, I might as well ask. Can I smell your feet?" Braeden answered me by stretching his foot out and wiggling his toes in my face. "Thanks, Braeden. Can I lick them, too?" "Yeah, lick `em!" He stretched out on the bed, getting more comfortable. I climbed onto the bed with him. I picked up his left foot and began licking between his toes. What a flavor! He had Marten beat by a mile! I was loving every bit of Braeden's stinky little feet. He began to laugh and squirm and thrash around wildly. "Hey, that tickles!" He seemed to like it, though. I tickled his right foot as I licked his left foot. Even though he begged me to stop, I could tell that he found my attention to his feet to be very pleasurable. Braeden was kicking and squirming so wildly that the bedsprings were squeaking as loudly as if we really were doing `sexing', as he called it. Then Braeden bolted upright in his bed. "Did you hear that?" "No. What?" "The car door. My parents are home!" "You're not supposed to be awake." "And you're not supposed to be keeping me awake." *** I became Braeden's regular babysitter. Between doing homework with Maartin and taking care of Braeden, I was very busy. I was surprised to discover that Braeden liked my feet, too. It seemed that Braeden and I shared some of the same experiences and feelings. Braeden had discovered at a very early age that his dad's smelly feet gave him a hard-on. He didn't really understand what was happening and didn't realize it was a sexual thing, but he knew he liked the smell, so he stopped washing his own feet, and refused to wear any new sneakers. His dad had suggested that he enter his sneakers in the Cub Scout Smelly Sneaker contest, and the rest was history. After I had been licking his feet for about two weeks, Braeden finally asked me if he could lick my feet as well. It's funny. I was so obsessed with Marten and Braeden's feet that it never occurred to me that someone might like MY feet. So Braeden and I licked each other's feet together. "Skyler, don't wash these socks," he told me one day. "Your feet don't smell enough. I want em smellier!" I was happy to oblige him. One day I made the move I had been planning for weeks. Braeden lay on his bed after I had just given him a relaxing foot rub, when I began gently tugging on the zipper of his shorts. I knew that `sexing' with Braeden was risky business, but I couldn't resist when I saw how happy he looked stretched out on the bed after the foot rub. I wanted to make him feel even happier. "You gonna lick my dick too, Skyler?" "If you don't mind." "Okay." Braeden pulled down his underwear. His dick was tiny, and when it got hard it was only about three inches long. I was having a lot of fun sucking Braeden's dick. It was so tiny and so cute. Braeden just lay on the bed, occasionally giggling and twitching with pleasure. He was very ticklish. I don't think he had an orgasm that first time I sucked him. I was getting bolder. "Would you like to suck mine now, Braeden?" "Okay." I stood up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled out my hard cock. I motioned for Braeden to get on his knees in front of me. "Wow! Your thing is really big!" Braeden exclaimed. I didn't think my thing was very big. It wasn't, compared to some of the other guys' dicks I had seen. But to Braeden my cock must have seemed huge. But the boy was still willing to get on his knees and put it in his mouth, and I was happy about that. "Now we're really doing sexing!" He laughed. Braeden gripped the shaft with his little hand and put my cockhead in his mouth. He worked on my dick for about a minute when I had an idea. "Hey Braeden?" "Yeah?" he said, taking his lips off my cock. "You know what would be really cool? If you put on your Cub Scout uniform and then sucked my dick." "Why?" "Oh, I don't know. It'd just be cute, that's all." "You mean it'd be good for sexing?" "Yeah. It'd be really sexy!" "Okay. I'm gonna go put it on." Braeden ran off to his closet to change into his Scout uniform. While I waited for him I took a moment to sniff his socks, which he had left on the floor. When Braeden came back he was in full Cub Scout regalia, hat, neckerchief and merit badges included. I was so excited! He had even put his filthy sneakers back on, this time without the socks. Not only did he look great, but he smelled great, too! I wished I had a picture of Braeden on his knees before me in his Scout uniform. "Hey Skyler, the uniform must really be good for sexing! I think your dick got a little bigger after I put it on!" Then he started bobbing down on my cock. He put his hat on backwards so the brim wouldn't get in the way as when he was giving me head. It was the first time anyone had ever given me a blowjob. I discovered that if you're only used to jacking off, it takes a while to get used to the sensations of any other type of sexual act. Even though I was hard as a rock, and having Braeden suck me off was incredibly sexy, I found his sucking to be quite clumsy and slow. I tried to get him to go faster, but he couldn't figure out how to do it exactly the way I liked. We were both too inexperienced and clumsy. I pulled my dick out of Braeden's mouth and began jacking myself off. "Are you gonna sperm now?" he asked. "Yeah. Pretty soon." Braeden could see how I was tensing up, and he had an idea of what was going to happen. Just as I was about to cum Braeden surprised me by shoving my dickhead into his mouth right at the critical moment. I shot my load into the Cub Scout's mouth. He swallowed. "I can't believe you swallowed my sperm, Braeden!" Braeden looked confused. "You mean I wasn't supposed to?" "Well, I'm happy you did. Yeah, I guess you're supposed to. I always do. I just thought you might not want to. A lot of people don't like it." "It was okay." Braeden was still on his knees in front of me. His Cub Scout cap had fallen off while he was blowing me. Affectionately, I ran my fingers through Braeden's Kool-Aid green hair and patted him on the head. Then I noticed there was a big gob of cum on Braeden's Cub Scout shirt. "You got a little on you there," I pointed. "Oh, shit!" It was the first time I heard Braeden swear. "I gotta wear this to a pack meeting tomorrow night! My mom will yell at me if I ask her to wash it again!" He used his finger to get the stray drops of cum off his shirt, and then he licked it off his finger. I thought that was incredibly hot. Then he untucked his shirt and tried sucking the jizz off the fabric. "Let's go into the bathroom and see if we can get thas spot out. Your mother will never know." "I'm glad you're my babysitter, Skyler. Can we do more sexing tomorrow?" The End *** Did you enjoy my story? I hope you did. If you liked this story, you might want to check out some of my other stories on Nifty: Tanner's Talent in the Adult/Youth section, Jonathan Casts a Spell in the Highschool section, and Where's Willy? in the Encounters section. If you want to get to know me a little better, feel free to email or chat with me. My Yahoo ID is sebastianfforde.