Timmy missed the ball. It slipped through his fingers and he bent to pick it up. Timmy was standing with his feet well apart to keep his balance, and for a moment the elasticated fabric of his little shorts tightened, opening at the thighs, showing the curves and cleft of his feminine buttocks and outlining his firm balls. I felt my mouth go dry for a second. Apart from the cute face, bright eyes and cupid’s bow lips, sometimes I thought a boy’s balls were his most attractive and comely feature. Timmy’s were heartbreakingly perfect: set tightly in a scrotum the size of a golf ball, hard, smooth, beige, and so sensitive that a finger laid gently on the balls made him jump and erect in an instant. A pity that diapers don’t fall open at the crotch.

I wasn’t the only person who seemed to appreciate Timmy’s trim, firm body in tight shorts. A neighbour on the other side of the street, whom I knew only as Rob, was scrutinising Timmy’s bottom, as Timmy stood with his back to him. Timmy had the ball and threw it to Greg, who threw it to me. I deliberately fluffed my throw and the ball landed at Timmy’s ankles. As Timmy bent down to pick it up, Rob stared intensely at Timmy’s thighs and bottom. His right hand briefly patted his own crotch.

I took the ball from Timmy for an instant. “Can you see Rob over there?” I asked him. “Go and ask him if he wants to play catch with us.”
“Sure thing, Mom,” said Timmy, and soon Rob was standing on the grass patch with us, making an effort to catch and throw the ball but rarely succeeding.

“Greg,” I said as I threw the ball to him, “catch!” Greg caught the ball easily. I went over to him, bent down to whisper in his ear, and I told him I thought Rob might be happy to change his diaper.
“I’m completely dry,” he said, “so he won’t need to.”
“Good boy,” I said.

I laid one hand low on Greg’s tummy with my fingers two inches or so below Greg’s navel, and the other hand on his bottom, to stop him pulling away. Greg knew what was coming next.

“Oh, mom! Don’t!” He turned bright red.
“Let’s soak your diaper,” I said, and I pinched his tummy with my finger and thumb directly over the bladder, hard enough to hurt.
“Ow!” I pinched harder, stepping up the pain, and immediately Greg flooded his diaper. Timmy giggled. Neither son could hold his urine when I played that little trick on them.

“Good boy,” I said again, “Sweet wet boy, I love you.”
“But mom…”
“I love when you piss like that. I heard it. Your diaper’s drenched.”

I turned to Rob, who was trying to grab the ball from Timmy, all the while staring at Timmy’s thighs and shorts.

“Rob,” I invited him, “would you like to change Greg’s diaper for me? It’d save me a job.”
Rob stared at Greg for a few seconds, so I added, “There’s absolutely no rush, Rob. You can take your time over it.”
“I’d love to,” said Rob.
“I’ll show you where the diapers are, Rob,” said Greg, obviously looking forward to getting up close and personal with an admirer. He and Rob went into the house and Timmy and I went on throwing and catching the rubber ball.

Half an hour later Timmy and I went back into the house. We both needed some orange juice and anyway, it was becoming colder. I looked into the living room and saw Rob and Timmy on the sofa together, kissing. Greg was sitting in Rob’s lap, Rob’s eyes were closed, and the two were holding each other tightly and pressing their mouths together. Greg was still wearing his diaper, legs parted, although a clean diaper lay on the floor within Rob’s easy reach. I wondered whether to intervene, but I decided not to. I didn’t want them to stop enjoying each other. Maybe Rob had no love in his life.

In the kitchen I poured Timmy a large glass of orange juice and helped myself to the rest of the carton. I dropped a diuretic tablet into Timmy’s glass, hoping that he wouldn’t notice.

“Greg’s enjoying himself,” I said quietly to Timmy.
“He’s kissing Rob,” said Timmy, looking in the direction of the sofa.
“Rob looks quite in love with him,” I said.
“Pick me up,” Timmy asked me.

I knelt so that Timmy could put his arm around my shoulders, then lifted him and carried him up the stairs to my bedroom. I kissed Timmy on the lips as I carried him. My tongue explored his straight, even teeth and he responded by tonguing me back.

I lay Timmy on the bed and slipped his tee shirt upwards, showing his firm and slightly chubby stomach. Timmy was not thin — no ribs on show, but a gently undulating chest like a young girl — and a trace of puppy fat forming a gentle curve that led to the front of the plastic diaper.

I lay my hands flat on Timmy’s pale beige nipples, slightly oval and with soft, yielding tips, and kissed his mouth again.

“I guess I’d better change your diaper, then,” I said.

I heard a short, vocal gasp from downstairs. Greg was getting it, as he often called it. I noticed that the tube of lubricant, which I kept on the little bedside table, was missing. I knew that Rob and Greg were putting it to good use in the living room. I pressed a little more firmly on Timmy’s breasts and I noticed his diaper tighten at the front as Timmy imagined what I was going to do with him.

“Mom, will you…?”
“Like Auntie Betty?” I asked him. Auntie Betty, my brother’s wife, had spent a week with us on holiday and had dropped her panties for the boys. “That felt good, did it?”
“Oh, mom, so good…”
“No,” I said, trying to let him down gently but definitely, “I don’t allow that. You won’t do that with me.”
“Oh, mom, please…”
“No. Don’t make me spank you. I don’t want to spank you.”

I was lying, of course. Putting my hand underneath Timmy’s feminine, prominent buttocks I slid the diaper down. There was some wetness in it but no brown stuff, and lovingly I caressed his damp backside. I had a cane and a belt, by turns for punishment and lovemaking. I would have loved to thrash Timmy’s backside, turn it dark red, make Timmy cry, listen to him sob and wail and squeal. Smack, pause, smack, pause, smack, a long, loving, relentless thrashing.

“I would love to spank you,” I said, “your bum is just so gorgeous.”

I tore the tabs off his diaper so that it fell open, and I let it fall onto the floor. It could stay there for now.

Timmy’s cock rose. It was pumped up to nearly its full size, straight, firm, one and three quarter undeveloped inches of hard rod, and I caressed the tip so as to tease him and make the cock throb. I took the tip into my mouth, closed my lips over it, and licked. The diuretic was beginning to work, filling and stretching Timmy’s little bladder. I was rewarded with a tang of piss. Not much, but enough to taste and swallow.

“Yum,” I said, licking my lips and trying to look provocative.

Timmy giggled.

I held his cock in my right hand, running my fingers along the top from base to tip, catching the tip between thumb and forefinger, grasping the shaft and pumping it slowly, slipping my left hand behind the balls and stroking the B spot, and kissing Timmy on the nipples and on the mouth.

“My darling,” I said.

I pumped harder, grasping the shaft tightly enough to make Timmy gasp, and gradually I changed him from the calm, relaxed little boy whom I’d carried into the room into a boy thrashing about, wriggling, moaning, striving to reach his orgasm, pissing wildly in short jets. I pumped the cock, held the balls, pressed the B spot with my fingertips. I realised I was so excited that I had sunk my nails into the base of Timmy’s cock, while Timmy was so excited that he didn’t notice two little cuts in the skin. He was panting, red faced, mouth open, eyes closed, and suddenly he moaned loudly — I was sure everyone on the street heard him — and I felt his hard cock pressing into my hand like a piston as the pleasure went through his sweet body. I pressed my lips against his and pushed my tongue hard against the back of his throat as he came. There was no spurt of boy milk, not at his age, but I had given him the full force of the hot, massive orgasm of a small cock, a young boy taken in hand.

“Oh, honey,” I said.
“Thank you, Mom,” said Timmy.

I smirked. There was no need to thank me. I did it all for pure love.

I stood up and pulled a blanket over Timmy, who was now sweating and panting, with his heart racing as his orgasm subsided. I felt the sweat from Timmy’s cock on my right hand and instinctively I wiped my hand on the bed sheet. I held the cock for a few more seconds, making it swell and straighten despite his eyes being closed and his breathing regular.

Timmy would wake up with a full, taut bladder and fully horned-up tool.

I realised I was still wearing the one-piece costume. I hadn’t even given Timmy the courtesy of pulling my shoulder straps off, slipping the crotch piece to the side and posing for him to look at me. After all, I thought, look but don’t fuck. There’s no harm in him just looking.

As Timmy fell gently asleep I decided to go and see how Rob and Greg were getting along. I picked up a lingerie set — bra, panties, garter, stockings, and I changed into it quietly so as to let Timmy recover for a while. I wondered whether he had orgasmed as strongly when Auntie Margaret had let him go the whole way with her. I wondered how many times she and Timmy had done it together. She had been here for a week. Timmy and Greg were insatiable, they could make love at least ten times in twenty four hours. Margaret was definitely going to visit again soon, I decided. I couldn’t give them what she gave them, and the boys needed it.

I wasn’t wearing shoes, so I was able to walk silently and stand close to the living room door to see what Rob and Greg were doing together on the sofa without disturbing them.

The lessons from which boys learn the most at school are those taught in the toilets at break time with the circle jerk.

Greg was experienced enough to know exactly what Rob wanted. Greg was kneeling on the sofa, naked except for the diaper which was lowered to his upper thighs, revealing his bottom and the pale, pre pubertal, growing, hairless balls. Greg was in prayer position, head right down, bum raised. Rob had applied the lubricant. He was behind Greg, gently fingering the cleft between Greg’s bum cheeks and then slipping his firm, thick cock slowly into Greg’s opening. Greg pushed back against Rob's straight cock. He flinched slightly as the cock pushed his cheeks apart, but relaxed as the pleasure came in. Rob started to pump, carefully but deeply, stroking Greg’s face, hair, back, cock and balls with his hands as his cock penetrated, withdrew, penetrated and withdrew again.

“Sh! Don’t stop,” I said to Rob as I walked in. “I hoped you’d get on well.”
“He’s good,” said Greg, “he’s — Ouch! — well equipped.”
“Did that hurt?” Rob asked Greg, hearing the little yelp, withdrawing and pushing again.
“No,” Greg and I said together, and Greg added, “I like it. Oh, ouch! And I love your lingerie, Mom.”
I looked at Rob. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Not with Greg,” he said. “Although I have the occasional privilege of taking a neighbour’s young boy to the seaside.”

I’d seen Rob a few times with Sye, a small, heavily freckled boy of nine or ten years, who always had an erection.

“Does Sye do it all?” I asked, never having had the opportunity to ask Sye in person.
“Hand and mouth jobs,” said Rob, “but his mom makes him keep his pants on, and she doesn’t wear that sort of hot outfit.”
“Glad you like it,” I said, “I’ll lend it to her, and maybe you’ll take Greg as well some time.”
“Is Sye — Ouch! — a big boy?”
“One inch,” said Rob, miming administering hand relief to the youngster. “But he really loves to be held and squeezed, so it’s no matter.”
“OH!” cried Greg as Rob’s cock went home really hard and then withdrew.

Rob pushed his cock home again. Pain flashed across Greg’s face and he gasped, “Ah!”

Greg’s backside is lean but deep and takes his boyfriends all the way without any problem. Rob’s cock must have gone seven, eight, nine inches into Greg’s tight split.

Then it was Rob’s turn to gasp, a long and deep note as his prostate contracted and his cock pumped a jet of hot milk. “Yes,” Rob moaned, “yes, yes!” as the milk spurted into Greg’s seductive backside.

Greg had not come yet, or maybe he had come but remained intensely aroused. His cock was fully pumped up. I was going to ask Rob to empty it and make sure Greg wasn’t left high and dry, when Greg piped up.

“Give me a hand job, Rob,” he said, obviously very ready to receive it.
“Sure, Greg.”

With his right hand, Rob felt Greg’s balls and cock, making him erect. Greg’s hand stroked the tip, the shaft, the base, then back to the tip, expertly cock teasing. The pain of blue balls had kicked in. Rob was teasing, arousing Greg, and raising the pain, making Greg's young balls burn. I was wondering whether Greg could stand the teasing for much longer when Rob expertly took hold of the tip of the cock and drew his hand along the shaft, making that Greg spurt powerfully onto the sofa cushions.

“Oh!” Greg breathed, “Oh, my.”
“Sorry about the mess,” said Rob.
“I quite like it,” I said, “don’t clean it up.”

Rob put his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“You’re not going to fuck me,” I told him, “neither of you. You can have the boys, Rob, but not me.”
“That’s all right,” said Rob. I guessed that he preferred boys to women, as many men secretly do.
“If you need a bit extra fun with the boys,” I told Rob, “Timmy is upstairs in my bed. His bladder is full to bursting. He’s about to piss in the bed and I gave him a horn like a rhinoceros.”
“Isn’t he a bit young to be fucked?” Rob asked.
“Yes,” I said, nodding, and knowing that Timmy was one of the favourites in the school toilets at at break time, “try him out. He’s in bed asleep and nude. All yours.”

Rob went upstairs to lie next to Timmy. I went to the cupboard and found a clean diaper for Greg.

“I love you,” I told Greg, and I kissed his mouth.