MR. BILL'S GROCERY

Part 2 - Sunday Sexcapades

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On Saturdays I spent my days playing at the playground or in the adjoining backyards with the McDonald kids.� Occasionally I'd drop in to see Mr. Bill, but Saturdays were busy and he told me to come back Monday if I wanted a treat.� On Sundays he was closed.

My dad was a avid fisherman.� He didn't have a boat, but a buddy of his did and every other Sunday or so, they would go fishing.� My mom wasn't too happy about that, but he went anyway.� Sometimes he brought something home, sometimes he didn't.� But what he did was a predictable routine; not the specific weekend,� but that he always got up and left before daybreak and didn't return until mid-afternoon.

Generally Mom was greatly annoyed by all this and they fought about that and many other things too.� When the yelling began, I disappeared.� On this particular Sunday, Dad was off fishing and for once Mom didn't seem to be upset about it.� It was around nine o'clock in the morning.� I had finished breakfast when Mom told me that she wanted some quiet time alone and that I was to go outside and play and not to come home until dinner time, which at our house would be around 1 PM on a Sunday.�

The McDonalds went to church and Sunday School every Sunday.� They didn't leave until about 9:30 AM, but they were dressed and unavailable.� I knew they wouldn't be home until 12:30 or so.� Then they had dinner.� It wouldn't be until 2 or 2:30 that they would be available to play. Five hours was an eternity.�

I headed for the neighborhood park and playground, but there wasn't anyone there to play with either.� I considered just going back home and pleading my case with my mom, which I knew would irritate her, and then what?

An idea suddenly came to me.� I didn't think it would work, but who knows?� I headed for Mr. Bill's, even though he wasn't open on Sundays.

Sure enough the front door was locked and the lights were out.� Defeated, I started for home.� When I came around to the back of the store, I saw Mr. Bill's old beat up Chevy truck.� He was there, I was sure of it.� Then I noticed the back door that lead into the storeroom.� I'd seen that door a hundred times, from both the inside and outside, but I never used it, never even thought about it.� Maybe if I knocked... I did and there was no response.� I was about to give up when I noticed what looked to be an electric door bell button.� I pressed it and heard it ringing inside.� I pressed it again.� Then again.

Suddenly the door swung partially open and Mr. Bill gruffly shouted from inside, "I'm closed on Sundays!"

"Mr. Bill.� It's me, Jimmy."�

His head appeared in the partially opened doorway.� "Jimmy?� What are you doing here?"

"Mom wanted me to get lost and not come home until dinner time.� There's no one to play with.� Can I come in?"

The door swung a little wider and he said, "Sure, Jimmy.� Come in and be quick before someone sees you."

I stepped in and he quickly closed and locked the door.� It struck me as odd that he was only in his boxer shorts.� I'd never seen him without a shirt and never barefoot and sans pants.� He was pretty hairy all over and kind of gray all over too, just like the hair on his head and forearms.

"So you want to play?" he asked.� I nodded.� He ran his hand through my hair. "Well, perhaps we can play upstairs today.� No customers.� Is that what you want to do, play upstairs with me?" Again I nodded. I didn't look up at him as my attention was drawn to the growing tent in his shorts.

"Okay, but just to be clear, the store is closed," he said. "I don't go in the store on my only day off, so there's no ice cream for you.� We're just going to play.� Are you okay with that?" Looking up, I nodded that I understood.�

"I guess this is my lucky day," he said rather cryptically.

"Now boy, before we go upstairs, I want us both to be perfectly clear on why you're here today.� Take off all of your clothes."

Quickly I stripped, just like I would on a school day.� Mr. Bill rubbed my head vigorously and praised, "You're a good boy, Jimmy.� But, I'm not a good man."� That was a curious thing for him to say.� He'd never hurt me and he was always nice to me.� I knew he was a naughty man, but then I also knew that I was very naughty boy.� I interpreted that statement to mean that he was naughty, but so was I.

Then he said, "Wait right here."�

He disappeared into the store, even though he had just said he didn't go into the store on Sunday.� Momentary he was back with a jar of something in his hand.� Swatting me on the bare butt, Mr. Bill scooted me up the stairs saying, "Get your naked butt upstairs, boy! "

I'd never been upstairs before and it was nothing like I had imagined.� It was a single room, with a small cluttered kitchenette, a small table piled high with books and magazines, two chairs with more books, a raggedy sofa and a double bed. Unlike the store, it wasn't tidy at all.�

He took me to the unmade bed.� His hands went to the snaps of his boxers.� They fell to the floor, revealing him in all his nakedness.� It wasn't a particularly pretty sight, but then I'd never seen all of him before either.� He looked at me with a familiar expression and one that he saved for me when I was in the back storeroom.�

"Do you know what this is?" he asked holding out the jar in his hand.� I'd seen that stuff before in my parents' bedroom, but really didn't know what it was except that it was greasy.

"Do you know what it's for?"� I shook my head.

"It's for ass fucking boys like you, Jimmy," he replied forthrightly.� I had no idea what he was talking about.� About all I knew was that "ass" and "fuck" and words like that were dirty words, dirty words I'd heard my old man use, but words that Mr. Bill hardly ever used.

"Now, come over here, boy, and suck my fucking dick for me.� When I do you, boy, I want to last a long time."

I didn't know what he meant by "fucking dick", but I did understand the unmodified "suck my dick" part.� I was okay with that too, especially now that I could finally run my hands over his naked body like he did with me.� I knelt in a supplicant's position while he stood. I took his erect cock in hand and hefted his heavy hairy balls. I'd felt his balls before when reaching through his open fly, but I never actually seen them hanging free and unencumbered. I hadn't really felt them either. They were more than a handful, but I didn't have big hands.� I did like the feel of them though.� They were warm and rolled about easily in my hand.� I looked up smiling.� Mr. Bill looked down and growled, "C'mon, suck my dick, boy!"

Letting his balls go for the moment, I gripped the base of his thick shaft and guided the now familiar purplish knob to my mouth.� He was already seeping pre-cum, so I tasted that immediately, as well getting a good whiff of his funky crotch smell.� By that time, I had enough practice and experience to take a good two inches or so into my mouth.� I also quickly determined that it was much nicer to suck his dick when it was unencumbered by his clothes and zipper.�

He'd taught me how to tongue and tease the underside of the head of his cock, just below the crown and along that funny little ridge of skin. It was sort of frustrating that he wouldn't stay still to let me do a good job, but instead he held my head and thrust in and out of my mouth, making it quite difficult to flicker my tongue just where he always said I should flick it.� Meanwhile he was mumbling and rambling on at how good it felt to be "fucking my mouth" and what a "good little cocksucker" I was.� When he finally did blow his wad into my mouth, it wasn't a surprise to me at all, but expected.� And like the good little cocksucker I'd become, I thrilled to the pulsations of his gnarly hard cock, swallowing all the goodies with relish.� Even when he was finished I continued to suckle his softening dick until he pushed me away.

"That was good, Jimmy.� Real good," he praised.� "Damn!� This is the best Sunday morning I've had in a long time.� Now, be a good boy and go get me a wet wash rag."

I scurried over to the claw foot tub and grabbed a damp wash cloth that had seen better days. I handed it to him.� I expected him to wipe his cock with it, but instead he pushed me face down on his bed.� I jumped as the cold damp cloth invaded the crack of my ass. The wash cloth was carelessly disposed of.� Mr. Bill coaxed me up on my knees while simultaneously spreading my cheeks apart with his hands. If the cold wet wash cloth was unexpected, his warm wet tongue on my asshole was a total shock.� He was licking my asshole and licking it aggressively.� I couldn't believe what he was doing!� This was dirty, dirty and nasty and...� I tried to crawl away, but he held me fast, licking me up between my legs and my little nut sack, but mainly he licked, probed and even sucked on my asshole.� I kept thinking, this is really, really nasty dirty, but I couldn't escape.� Not that I wanted to escape, as it felt pretty darned good too.�

Finally he stopped his oral assault and rubbed his hand over my stimulated anal orifice.� He reached for that jar he'd brought up from downstairs.� Then the greased finger slid up my anus.� I yelped at the sudden intrusion, not that it did me any good.� He'd fingered my asshole before, worming a finger tip in now and then.� This was different!� This wasn't just a fingertip, but his whole fat finger was up my ass as deep as he could get it.� He pulled back an inch or so and drove it back in.� It was very uncomfortable, but the more he moved it in and out, the better it became.� It never got to be exactly good, but it became tolerable.

Gripping my butt like a bowling ball, he shook me.� Not hard, mind you, but just enough to tickle my innards.� I was probably slack jawed by then as he leaned over and whispered into my ear, "You ready to be ass fucked, Jimmy?"� I still didn't know what was about to happen.� "Just nod if you want me to fuck your ass."� Not comprehending what he was proposing, I nodded.

His middle finger left my anus, but soon returned with a glob of Vaseline that he worked into my hole.� There was a brief pause and I felt the bed move.� Then I felt the fat head of his cock nestle between my buttocks and then press against me.�

"Push out like your trying to shit," he told me.� I pushed and my eyes were crossed.� I did more than just yelp when his fat glans pushed inside me.�

"There, there, there," he said soothingly.� "The worst is over."�

I wasn't buying it and tried my best to escape, but to no avail as he easily held me in place to be sodomized.

"Tell me when it doesn't hurt so bad anymore, sweet boy," he said into my ear.

I don't think I ever said anything, but after a minute or two, with my asshole stretched tight around his hard prick, he began to push into me a little at a time.� It didn't hurt like hell anymore, but it wasn't particularly comfortable either.� Slowly he worked more and more of his cock into my bowels until I felt like I would burst.� Then he rolled me with him onto his side with his dick planted up my butt, holding me tight against him while my innards adjusted as best they could to his impaling cock.�

I didn't realize it then, but with the taking of my virginity, he was also stripping me of my innocence, or what little remained of it, a fact that it is plainly clear to me now.�� We lay there for some time, a boy and his older rapist, except I didn't consider it then, nor do I consider it now to be rape.� I was there of my own free will and he was teaching me the ways of men like him and boys like me.

It never ceases to amaze me how after years and years, some money grubbing faggot and his lawyer try to shakedown the faggot's "molester", especially those who claim to have been "molested" over several years. �Bullshit!� They wanted that dick up their ass.� They wanted to suck that dick.� Willingly they got what they clearly consented to.� If it was a one-time thing, then maybe they were violated, but not if they made themselves available and came for it time and time again. Of course they may not had a choice at all, maybe they were trapped, but I digress...

Anyways, after a while, it didn't hurt anymore.� It still didn't feel great, but it certainly wasn't painful.� He began to move, sliding his impaling prong back and forth in my rectal sheath.� And with each passing moment, each full cycle of withdrawal and thrust, it began to feel better.� Not great, mind you, but better.�

The earlier blow job did the trick and he fucked me and ravished my seven year old ass for a long time that Sunday morning.� At one point he pulled out completely and had me feel my gaping hole, a condition that alarmed me.� He reassured me that it would close up again in a little while and then effortlessly slid back deep inside me.

When it was all over, he drew a tub of water and gave us both a bath.� That felt really nice.�� Then he escorted me back downstairs where my clothes were piled on the floor, kissed me and told me to come back next Sunday.�

I waddled home that afternoon with mixed feelings.� Mom seemed to be very happy about something and that was a pleasant surprise.� As usual she didn't ask what I'd been up to nor ask who I had been playing with, nor did I volunteer any information. I was home and accounted for and that was that.

That afternoon and evening I was sore to be sure, but I mostly got over that by the next morning.�

I didn't drop in to see Mr. Bill for a few days after my deflowering.� It wasn't because I was troubled by any of it, but rather that I had been asked to go play at a friend's house after school. When I got off the bus,� I thought about going inside the store, but decided to hurry on to my play-date instead.� I did that for a few days in row, but towards the end of the week I popped into the store.� Mr. Bill was happy to see me and asked if there were any problems.� It never occurred to me that he might think that I had some sort of problem with what happened Sunday morning. I was rather forthright in my purpose and asked for an ice cream.

"Same rules as before?" he replied with that peculiar smile of his.

I nodded and he beamed, "Well, what do you want today?" he asked.

"I'll have a Nutty Buddy," I replied.

He fetched the treat from the freezer and handing it to me, told me to go eat it in the store room and that he'd be right along after the customer left.

Unseen by the customer, I slipped into the back storeroom and slipped out of all my clothes so that I wouldn't drip ice cream on them.� I didn't really believe that still, but it did make some sense.� With half the ice cream devoured, I heard the bell signaling that someone had either come in or out of the store.� A moment later Mr. Bill made his appearance.�

I was nude, sitting on a box of can goods.� He pushed me back, so that I was half reclined, and then he went after my dick with his mouth. It was rather pleasant sitting there, eating ice cream while my dick was being slobbered on and sucked.� All in all, it was a lot more fun than playing with my new friend, who I had found to be rather uninteresting.

The doorbell jingled, and Mr. Bill hurried back into the store.� His admonition for me to stay put was totally unnecessary, as I had no plans of leaving anytime soon.�� The bell jingled again and soon thereafter Mr. Bill made his appearance.� He unzipped and fished his cock out.� No further directions were needed.

That Sunday, Dad didn't go fishing.� Yet Mom seemed agitated about something. Soon they were arguing, but it didn't escalate into anything serious, just another typical spat.

When I saw Mr. Bill later that week, he told me how disappointed he was that I didn't come over on his day off.� I explained that on the weekends when my dad was home, he wanted me around, not that he ever really did anything with me, he just wanted me close by.

However, the following Sunday, Dad did go fishing with his buddy.� Again, Mom didn't seem upset by this and also told me once again to go out and play and not to come home until dinner time.� I'd had two weeks to think about my Sunday with Mr. Bill and I had come to some general conclusions.� Number one, I now understood the meaning of the word "fuck" and "fucking" and what Vaseline was used for.� Mr. Bill had fucked me and used Vaseline to grease up my hole.� I also realized that that was what my dad was doing to Mom a year ago or so when I crawled into bed with them one night.� Neither my mom nor my dad realized that I was there and Dad continued to hump away on top of Mom while I lay next to them, wondering what they were doing.� I knew nothing about female anatomy; as far as I knew, girls and women had dicks too, how else were they to pee? I assumed fucking was fucking and besides the obvious, that's what assholes were designed for.�

I also knew that fucking was supposed to be a big secret. Mom and Dad did it often enough, but they� never talked about it and Mr. Bill made it clear that I shouldn't talk about it either. Fucking was for big people, and now that I was fucking, I was in my mind, a big people.

Other than that, I really didn't think about� fucking too much, other than it hurt like hell the first time.� Mr. Bill had promised me that it wouldn't hurt so bad the next time and I believed him, just like I believed what Mom or Dad might tell me. So, having been kicked out of the house, and knowing no one was around to play, I headed directly to Mr. Bill's.

I was about to ring the back door bell of his store, when I remembered what he told me two weeks before.� I was to ring with two shorts and two longs.� That way he'd know that it was me who was ringing.� So I used the code to ring the bell and did so three times before the door opened. I didn't even see Mr. Bill behind the door, but heard him call out, "Quick!� Come in, Jimmy." I slipped through the door which was promptly closed and locked behind me.� The lights were off and with no windows, the storeroom was dark, but light did filter in through the open door that led into the store proper.� As my eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine to the dim interior, I could make out Mr. Bill.� He was totally naked, not even boxer shorts.�

Neither of us spoke for a moment.� Then Mr. Bill said, "What are you waiting for, boy?� Get your ass undressed."

Quickly I shed my clothes.� "That's better," he said as he ran his hand down my naked torso, "much better.� I do like you naked, boy."� He was by then fondling my dick.

"You're here to suck my dick.� So, do you want to suck me now, or wait until we're upstairs?" he asked. I knelt and took him in my mouth.

I sucked him for a few moments and then he pushed me away and said, "You're certainly an eager beaver when it comes to dick.� Let's go upstairs and really get after it."� He turned and ascended the stairs with me right behind him and his hairy butt.

Needless to say, once he had me upstairs, he butt fucked me.� In fact he fucked my butt several times that morning, pausing now and then for some dick sucking and butt licking. Thankfully, afer he sodomized me, he's wipe off his dick with that old washrag of his before having me suck him again.

There was this one time, late in the morning where he was lying on the unkempt bed.� He had me straddle him and then mount him.� By then my asshole was gaping open and he slid up inside me with ease.� But once he was firmly planted in me, he had me lean back while he toyed with my stiff little pecker.� The toying escalated into rapid hand motions.� He kept it up until I had an orgasm. It was my first and not knowing what was happening to me, it scared me. I wouldn't be scared the next time.� Playing with Mr. Bill was fun!

For the next several months, the Sunday suck-and-fuck sessions continued whenever my dad went fishing.� At some point, Mr. Bill took several rolls of photographs of me with his Brownie camera. A few weeks later, he showed me the pictures.� Without a doubt, I was a dirty, naughty boy.�

Then one Sunday, I went to Mr. Bill's.� His truck was gone and so was he. Here I was, all ready to spread my ass cheeks and suck his cock and he wasn't even home!� I tried the playground, but no one was there to play with.� Bored, I decided to go home, despite Mom's now familiar instructions not to come home until dinner.

My mom always fussed at me for letting the screen door slam shut, so I came inside quietly, avoiding slamming the screen door.� Mom wasn't in the kitchen and I headed for my room.� In the hallway I came to an abrupt stop.� There before me was a big man, a big naked man.� Rather than looking at his face, I looked at the semi-flaccid salami hanging between his legs.� He was huge! At least three times bigger than Mr. Bill and I thought Mr. Bill had a big prick.� The head was exposed, so he looked to be circumcised like my dad and me. I looked up at the man who was as frozen in place as I was.� I looked down at his dick and looked back up.� Then I realized that I knew this man.� It was Mr. McDonald, the neighbor man with the gaggle of kids.�

"Crap!" Mr. McDonald exclaimed just before he disappeared through the door and into my parents' bedroom.�

As for me, I ducked into my bedroom and shut the door. I could hear Mom in the other room and she didn't sound happy at all.� I was certain that I was in big trouble now, and fear began to grip me.� It grew quiet and I waited for my mom to come in and give me the spanking I expected.� I waited and I waited, but she never came in.� Instead I smelled something cooking.

Cautiously I ventured into the kitchen.� Mom was at the stove.� She turned and with the sweetest smile asked me if I wanted some pancakes.� She then prattled on about how happy she was that I came home early, because she wanted to try out this new pancake recipe.� She knew how much I liked pancakes.� Bewildered by this turn of events, I sat and she presented me a plate full of hot deliciousness.�

As I ate, she made the comment that it so nice of Mr. McDonald to come over and fix the toilet, seeing that Dad wasn't home to fix it for her.� I know it sounds preposterous, but I believed her.� Why else would Mr. McDonald be over?� The fact that he was stark naked was problematic, but maybe he had to be naked to fix the toilet. How would I know?� I hadn't even finished the first semester of first grade.� All I knew for sure was that adults did some strange things now and then.

Once Dad got home with a mess of fish to fry, Mom went out of her way to tell Dad that Mr. McDonald had fixed the toilet for her, otherwise there might have been a disaster. She also made sure that I heard her tell my dad the toilet story.� Dad shrugged it off and said he'd have to thank McDonald and that was that.

Turns out that the reason Mr. Bill wasn't home that Sunday was that he'd driven himself to the ER Saturday night with a case of acute appendicitis.� He was closed all that following week and wasn't very playful for a week after that, but he did show me his scar.

After the dust settled on Mr. Bill's medical emergency, I trekked over to Mr. Bill's the next time my Dad went fishing.� As he played with my dick, I told Mr. Bill about my encounter with Mr. McDonald.� Mr. Bill laughed at my story.� "He wasn't there fixing your toilet," he told me.� "He was there fucking your mother." I didn't believe him at first, but his version made a lot more sense than what my mom had told me.� After all, why would Mr. McDonald have been naked if he was just fixing the toilet?

Mr. Bill wasn't fully recovered and he declined to hump me.� In fact he sent me on my way shortly after blowing his load in my mouth, saying that he needed to rest.�

On my way home, I thought about what I'd seen a few weeks before and what Mr. Bill had said about it.� Also on my mind was what Mr. Bill said Mom and Mr. McDonald were probably doing at that very moment.� He also cautioned me to stay clear.� "I don't want a good thing to get spoiled," he told me.� That kind of confused me because I thought he only meant what Mom was doing, when in fact he was referring to what we were doing while she doing it with Mr. McDonald.

My curiosity was much greater than my common sense and I went home anyway.� This time I made sure I was very, very quiet, going inside barefoot.� As soon as I got into the hallway, I could hear it, the steady thump, thump, thump of hump, hump, hump.� Accompanying the steady rhythm I could hear Mom howling, "Fuck me!� Fuck me hard, you big dicked bastard!� Yes, fuck my pussy!"� I couldn't believe my mom was using language like that. Mr. Bill used words like that and worse, but Mom?� That said, I had heard her call my dad a bastard on more than one occasion while they were arguing.

Silently, I approached my parent's bedroom door.� The door was slightly ajar.� Risking everything, I pushed it open just enough to see inside.� There was Mom, on her hands and knees with big old Mr. McDonald behind her with a fist full of her hair, and pulling her head back.� He was taking long, hard strokes and I got glimpses of the big wet cock as he pounded deeply into her, her ass cheeks quaking like a Jell-O mold with each stroke.�

They fucked like that for a good five minutes until Mr. McDonald pulled his prodigious organ from her punished puss.� Roughly he flipped her over and crawled up her torso and in doing so, giving me my first look at a pair of naked tits. He straddled her tits and I thought he was going to sit on them, but gripping the headboard, he leaned forward and shoved his huge slimy prick down her mouth.

Not wanting to push my luck and get caught snooping, I eased away from the door and went back outside.� I hung around in the backyard until Mr. McDonald exited.� He saw me and knew that he was busted... again.

"Uh, hello, Jimmy," he said sheepishly.� "I think your mother is looking for you."

"No, she's not," I replied.

"I, uh, I was helping her with something."

"Oh, okay," I replied as I turned and ran away.�� I'm not sure where I was going, only that I didn't want my mom getting on my case.� Best if I just disappeared for a while.� Not that running away did me a lot of good.� When I did come home, Mom was angry with me.� She was angry because she didn't know what else to do.� She let me know that she was displeased with me, but she didn't take it out on me.

When Dad came home empty handed from his fishing trip, she made a point of telling him in my presence that Mr. McDonald had returned some tool that he borrowed from Dad some time ago.� I knew she was lying, but what could I do?� I kept my mouth shut and accepted the fact that my mom wasn't as perfect as I had imagined her to be.� Over the coming weeks, I came to realize that maybe it wasn't always my dad's fault that they argued so much. This was a sea change for this kid.

Within a few weeks, Mr. Bill was back to normal.� Dad went fishing.� Mr. McDonald came over while his wife and children were at church and fucked the neighbor lady, my mom, cross-eyed.� Me, I went to Mr. Bill's.�