MEMPHIS BOY
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal

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CHAPTER 1. "A STALL IN THE MALL"

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Dear Jess,

Sorry it's been so long since I've written you. I know I've been settled
into the new place for a few months now it's completely shitty I haven't
flown you in for a visit yet, but fuck me Jess, when I tell you what's been
going on here the past two weeks, I know you'll understand. I know you'll
approve. Fuck, I know you'll stand up, take your dick out of your pants,
bang it on the table and applaud; a cock-sucker's standing ovation.

I'm not even sure how to set this up the right way. This is not one of
those "once upon a time" boylove stories where everything starts out slow
and we groom him and groom him and groom him until finally we've got a cock
in his ass. Oh fuck, Jess. This one went from zero to sixty in
ten-point-five seconds like they say in the fucking car commercials. This
one shocked even ME.

This kid is hot, Jess. And yeah, fuck you, I know I say that about every
kid, but oh fuck, hear me out, this kid is HOT. This kid is so fucking hot
he doesn't even KNOW he's hot. He's dirty. He's kinky. He's totally
sweet. He's totally fucked-up. He's a living, breathing, walking dichotomy
between so-fucking-pure you could wrap him up in fleece and call him a lamb
– and so fucking cock-banging nasty, I've seen him do things I've never
seen a 12-year-old do in my life, Jess. In my LIFE. And you of all people
know that's a pretty big boyful buffet.

So, if you'll pardon my hastily scratched notes and typos here – my head
is still spinning – and if you'll forgive me once again for sending this
email about two weeks later than I should have – here's what's been
happening with this crazy new kid. David's his name. Dave. Davey.

He's my first Memphis boy. 12-years-old and hot as a fucking bonfire. And
he doesn't even know it, Jess. That's what makes him so cock-knocking
hot. The gorgeous little cock-hound doesn't even have the first fucking
clue how hot he is. How with all of the stuff he does, he could have any
guy out there. Not a hint, not a clue. And thank you, Almighty Jesus, he
bumped into up with me.

But fuck. I'm way ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

# # # # # # # # # #

So, I'm in Germantown, Tennessee now, which is just a piss squirt away from
Memphis, and if you head up Poplar Avenue from my house, sooner or later
you hit the Kirby Woods Mall, which is exactly what you'd expect a mall to
be; all decked out in the usual shit – restaurants, a movie theater next
door, food court, a great little bookstore. That's where I saw him first –
in the bookstore.

He was 12 – and a small 12 at that – not tiny, not bony, but
skinny-sweet-pretty. God, was he stunning. The reddest most beautiful
lips. Blonde-brown hair. Almost a shade of red when the light caught it the
right way. Soft little freckles up high on his face, right under his baby
blue eyes. Button nose and shiny peach cheeks. Beautiful thin neck I wanted
to kiss on the spot. And a smile that lit up heaven, Jess. A clerk talked
to him. A high school boy. And my boy smiled back. White even teeth, with
just the smallest gap between the front two. Just a tiny one, like he was
still growing into them. And it was beautiful. A smile that makes your
heart melt and your cock hard.

And I watched him in that bookstore. And I saw him look around and slink
over to the magazine section. I was aisles away, but clearly this kid had
some shoplifting in mind. I could tell by the way he kept looking
around. And sure enough, when he thought the coast was clear, his little
hand reached out whisked a Tiger Beat off the shelf...or one of those
tween-girl fan mags – and rolled it up, stuffed it down the back of his
pants and pulled his t-shirt over it so quick it was like a magic
trick. Like playing poker with a card shark. It took maybe two seconds. The
kid was good. He'd clearly done it before.

And a teen idol magazine?  Now that was interesting. My gaydar on the kid
went from "pleasantly ambiguous" to "shields up, red alert, get ready
spermies, we're going in."

# # # # # # # # # # #

I followed him into the food court where he ordered a Coke and french fries
from Hot Dog on a Stick, counting out scrunched little dollars from his
tight little pocket, then he sat down at a table reading his magazine. I
sat five tables away. And you know what was funny, Jess? The kid reached
into his backpack, pulled out the cover from a different magazine, and
wrapped it around his Tiger Beat. I didn't know what he was doing at first,
but when he had it all squared away, I had to grin at his ingenuity. He'd
taken a Sports Illustrated cover and wrapped it around his jack-off rag. He
held the magazine open but close to his chest, glancing down with little
furtive peeks, but anybody walking by would swear he was reading a sports
mag. Good for you, little gay boy, I smiled to myself. Good for you.

He ate his fries carefully, one at a time. Dipped them in ketchup. Licked
his lips. Sometimes stopped to suck the salt off his fingers, and that
alone almost sent me to the moon and back, watching those slender little
fingers go into his mouth, his perfect lips and tiny tongue fellating them
casually, not even knowing he was giving me a stage one coronary and a
stage four boner not fifteen feet away. I tried to look casual. I tried not
to stare at him. But he looked up and caught me, watching his slender
fingers go absent-mindedly in and out of his mouth,
sucking. Oops. Caught. Embarrassed, he smiled.

Fuck, Jess. Do you know what it does to your cock when a 12-year-old boy
sucking his fingers looks up at you and smiles sweetly and blushes? He
might as well have gobbled my cock on the spot, it got that hard, that
fast. He smiled, put his magazine in his backpack, took one last sip of his
Coke, took his trash to the garbage can and set his tray on top. He looked
over his shoulder and smiled again. He started down the long aisle at the
end of the food court, heading for the bathroom.

Fuck, Jess. Now what do I do? Do I follow him in? Jesus, man, it was only a
casual smile. It wasn't like he hung a sign around that said, "Hey, Guy I
Don't Know, follow me into the men's room and see if you can fuck me." Poor
kid likely needed a quick piss and he'd be out in half a minute.

But he wasn't out in half a minute. Or two minutes. Or five. And I sat
there watching the hallway thinking, "is there a back exit to the mall I
don't know about?" I didn't think so, but the clock was ticking on his
restroom visit. Six minutes. Seven. Now eight. And now I'm thinking, man,
he's been in there a long time now, even if he's taking a shit.

Nine minutes. Ten.

Fuck it. I'm going in. At this point I'm thinking, maybe he really was
beckoning me in with that smile. Maybe he really was inviting me to
follow. And you know me, Jess. I'm not going to miss that chance. No
fucking way.

So I threw my tray away, cleared my throat, stood up, fixed my shirt,
adjusted my hard, daydreaming cock in my pants, and headed down the hallway
to the men's room. It was quiet down there. Not much traffic. A few moms
and daughters going in and out of the ladies room, but at the end of the
hallway, the mens room looked fairly quiet.

And wonder of wonders, tucked in a corner near a janitor's cart were two
big orange plastic cones and a sign-on-a-stand saying "Restroom Closed for
Cleaning. Please Use Restroom by Sears." Looking around, I grabbed the
cones, grabbed the sign, moved them into place blocking the entrance to the
men's room as I made my way in. If he really was in there waiting for me,
Jess, I wanted to make sure we had a little privacy.

# # # # # # # # # #

I walked into the empty bathroom but I couldn't see him anywhere. Could I
have missed him coming back out? Nah. Not possible. He had to be in one of
the stalls.

I walked up to one of the five urinals, stood next to the short one out of
habit, unzipped, whipped out my cock and pissed. I cleared my throat to let
him know I was in there.

No reply.

I craned my neck as I continued to piss. Cleared my throat again.

I heard a tiny throat clear itself back in reply. Just the faintest
sound. But the sound of horny hope. It made my cock tingle. I finished up,
zipped and looked over at the six stalls behind me. I bent down a little
but didn't see feet anywhere. There were five regular stalls and one
handicapped one at the end.

I cleared my throat.

He cleared his. He was definitely in the last one. The big handicapped
stall. I was sure of it.

I walked to the stall and I tapped on the door with a knuckle.

"Is this stall occupied?" I asked casually.

No response.

I tapped again and pushed. The door was locked.

"Sorry," I said, and walked into the stall right next to him.

I sat down on the toilet, pants still on, needing to ponder this for a
moment.

Clearly he was still in there. Clearly he had made a sound so I knew
it. Yet no response to my question.

"You okay in there, kid?" I asked him quietly.  No answer.

I ran my foot under the partition between us, old school. Tapped it a
couple of times. No response.

"You want some company?"

Still no answer. A shuffling sound, like my statement might have spooked
him.

Well fuck, this was going nowhere.

Quietly, I stood up on the toilet and looked over the partition.

And holy fuck, Jess, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Knocked me over with a fucking freaky feather.

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He was bare-ass naked, Jess.

BARE ASS NAKED.

I don't mean his pants were pulled down around his ankles and his shirt was
off.

I mean he was naked as the day he was born. Hairless. Completely hard. His
four-inch skinny cock sticking up hard and proud and his God damn finger up
his ass!

Let me repeat that for you, Jess, in case you missed it.

He was sitting all scrunched up on a toilet in the handicapped stall in the
fricking mall men's room with not a stitch of clothing on, a full-blown
boner and a finger up his ass!!

And his clothes were folded, Jess!!

They weren't in a messy pile on the floor.

He'd folded everything neatly. Shirt, jeans, undies, socks and shoes on
top, and laid them neatly in a pile on the back of the toilet bowl. Like a
fucking shelf, Jess. Like he was stacking them on his dresser just in time
for spring housecleaning. Jesus Christ.

Why would a kid do that, Jess? Like, no big deal, come on into the
bathroom, strip bare naked, fold your clothes, stack them neatly, squat on
the toilet and, hey, as if that's not enough, how about poking an index
finger up your pooper while you're in there. What the fuck, man!

He didn't even see me at first. He was looking down where my foot used to
be, straining to see under the partition from his angle. And I was up on
top, looking down at the floor show.

I'm sure I must have whispered "holy fuck" or something equally ridiculous,
because truly, what do you say when you see a naked kid in a bathroom stall
with his finger up his ass? It's not like a Shakespeare quote comes to
mind. Because he immediately looked up, blushed, made eye-contact, deer in
the headlights innocence, caught dead to rights, and waited for me to say
something first.

It's one of those moments where words fail you. One of those moments you
swear you hear your watch ticking, but you don't wear a watch.

Finally I had to say something, so I went with the obvious.

"Um, kid? Your finger's up your ass."

He smiled. Blushed even redder.

"Yeah," he said. "I know it is," were his first words to me. And then, with
a sheepish smile, "I don't know why I like it so much."

# # # # # # # # # #

Jess, you of all people know I've loved boys. You of all people know I've
fucked boys. I'm no slouch at grooming boys or getting the ball rolling by
starting a conversation. But I'll be honest with you, Jess. When it comes
to first contact, most of those boys are wearing their pants, and most of
them don't have a finger straight up where the sun don't shine. This kid
was redefining introductory protocol on the spot.

"I'm Zee," I said.

"Zee?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. It's short for Zachary."

"Oh. Okay," he said casually, like he does this every day. Like he has guys
introduce themselves peeking over a bathroom stall while he scrunches on a
toilet seat with his poker up his rump. Like it's standard
order-of-business.

"I'm David," he said.

"Pleased to meet you, David," I said to him. "You do realize your finger's
still up your butt, right? I mean, I'd shake hands, but..."

He giggled.

Didn't move his finger, but he giggled.

That was a good sign.

"So do I call you David, or Dave, or Davey?" I asked him. "Nah, fuck it," I
said, not giving him a choice. "I'm going to call you Davey."

Kid pops a finger up his butt in my world, he's getting the baby
treatment. The full shebang. Davey it is.

He shrugged. Blushed. "Okay," he said.

"Can I come in there, Davey?" I asked as innocently as I could make it
sound. You know me, Jess. Wolf in sheep's clothing. "I won't try anything
funny," I lied. "It's just, well," I nodded at his finger, "you sort of
have me intrigued, to say the least."

"Okay," he said. And this time he did take his finger out of his butt. He
sniffed it slightly when he did. Oh, God, Jess. He sniffed his own
butt-finger. I just about came. I know for a fact I leaked. And then he
jumped off the toilet, bare naked as sure as I'm standing here, unlocked
the latch on his door and let me in.

# # # # # # # # # #

"We should be quiet," he whispered. "I can't get caught. My parents would
kill me." He looked genuinely concerned.

"I put the cleaning cones outside," I said. "We'll be okay. Nobody will
come in."

He looked at me. I looked at him.

Fuck he was pretty. Naked and beautiful and pretty, and other than being
caught in a compromising position, he didn't seem concerned at all that I
was eyeing him up and down and practically springing out of my pants in my
lust for him. I think that's what he wanted, Jess. Right from that first
crazy meeting. He wanted my lust for him. He didn't know what the fuck to
do with it yet, but he sure wanted it.

He looked down at my cock which was clearly hardening despite my best
efforts to keep things slow and gentlemanly.

"You're not going to Stranger-Danger me, are you?" he asked, nodding down
at my hard-on. And he wasn't trying to be cute or babyish. It was a serious
question.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Do you want me to Stranger-Danger
you, Davey? Is that why you're in here?"

He shrugged. Looked down at the floor.

"Maybe," he said quietly, clearly embarrassed. "Kinda."

I nodded. Smiled.

"Just don't put your thing in my butt yet," he said simply. "I'm still
kinda scared of that butt-humping part."

I threw up my hands and smiled.

"You call the shots, kid. Whatever you want."

"Okay," he nodded and went back to the toilet, scrunched up and squatted
again, sucked on his finger, and stuck it back up his ass.

Holy fuck, Jess. Like there was nothing weird about it at all. Right back
up on the throne. Right back up his little white ass.

# # # # # # # # # #

The rest of the conversation went something like this:

"How old are you, Davey?"

"I'm 12."

"What grade are you in?"

"Sixth."

"Do you do this a lot? Come into bathrooms and get naked and put your
finger in your butt?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. Like no big deal. Like, so what. "Sometimes."

"You're very pretty, you know that?" He blushed. Looked down. Shook his
head "no."

"No, I mean it," I assured him. "You're very pretty. And your body is
beautiful."

His little cocklet was getting harder again.

"You have pretty feet," I told him, glancing down. And he did, Jess, he
did. You know how I love a pair of feet. I came on yours enough times the
first few times I fucked you. I came so much they're probably still
sticky. You know how it feels to get your feet gummed up with jizz, and
licked back off again while a man slides his cock up your hole. Gotta love
those pretty boy feet, Jess. Still one of my favorite time-passers in the
universe. Don't get me started on how hot his feet looked, Jess, or I'll
never get this finished. I'll never get this sent.

He shuffled around nervously. Clearly wanting to say something, but
embarrassed to ask me.

"Something wrong, Davey?"

"Can you take it out," he blushed.

"Take what out?" I said innocently, enjoying the game.

"Your you-know."

"My you-know?"

"Your C-Word," he said, pointing at it. "Your you-know. Your thing."

"My cock?" I asked him innocently.

"Yeah," he said, and his eyes looked wide and hungry. "Your C-word."

"Ask me for it then," I shrugged casually. If he wanted it, he could say
it.

"Take your cock out," he whispered meekly. "I wanna see your cock."

# # # # # # # # # #

You've seen my cock lots of times, Jess. You know what it looks like. You
know how big it is. Not huge. 6.5 inches, cut and firm. Not thick, not
slender, but a good in-between cock. A good boy-filler. And you know what
it feels like when it goes up a 12-year-old ass, don't you, Jess? Because
you were 12 – no scratch that – 11, when I put it in your sweet pussy
for the first time, right, baby? Yeah. That was a good one. I always
wondered what that felt like to you that first time. I wonder why we never
talked about that, Jess. Let's talk about that soon.

But right now, little Davey was looking at my cock for the first time, and
he clearly liked what he saw. His little dicklet was rock hard now. He
pulled his finger out of his ass, sniffed it, sucked it again, and put it
back inside.

"Nnngh," he said, making a little grunting sound as he reinserted his
forefinger into himself. It had to have been tender. He'd had it up there
awhile.

"Have you seen a man's cock before?" I asked him curiously, stepping
forward to let him look at it more closely.

"Nuh-uh," he muttered, his eyes opening wider. "Just my dad's."

"Do you play with your dad's?" I asked him. "Or suck him, or do stuff with
him?"

He nodded his head "no" instantly.

"No, he likes girls," he said meekly.

"And you don't?" I asked him.

He shrugged.

"You like boys, Davey?"

"Maybe."

"You like men?"

He shurgged.

"So you come into the bathroom hoping a man will find you in here and show
you his cock?"

He shrugged.

"I try it," he said. "I come in here a lot and take off my clothes and
wait, but nobody's every looked over the top before. They pee and I hear
them. But nobody ever looks. You're my first."

I smiled. I squeezed my hard shaft. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and he
looked fascinated by it. I wiped it off the tip. Put it to my mouth and
licked it off, which really made my eyes but out. Teasing him a litle more,
I put my cock back in my pants an re-zipped.

"Every boy needs a first," I told him. "Glad I could be here."

# # # # # # # # # #

At a certain point, you're done with the niceties.

You can only look at a naked boy with a finger up his ass for so long
before something's gotta give, Jess. And I was ready to get this show on
the road.

I looked down at his pretty cocklet. His balls. His asshole, finger still
firmly lodged. I pointed at his finger.

"Let's see what you can do," I said to him.

He nodded. Afraid, but not afraid.

"Move it in and out for me," I nodded at his asshole. "Fuck yourself with
your finger."

He pulled it out, wet it again, pushed it back in and instantly complied.

I watched him finger fuck himself, Jess. And he closed his eyes and did it
GOOD.

"Go farther in," I instructed him. And he did, making little grunting
noises and squeezing his eyes a little tighter.

"So fucking pretty," I whispered, rubbing my cock through my pants. I could
see the leak in my crotch. I could feel the wide leak stain.

I stepped forward to him.

"Lift your foot up," I ordered.

He did as he was told.

I pressed it to my chest. Leaned my face down into it and nuzzled it. It
smelled clean. Good. He hadn't been walking around on the bathroom floor
too much. Normally I'd balk in that setting. Bathroom floors aren't
clean. But fuck, he was pretty, Jess. I couldn't help myself. Bathroom or
no bathroom, that pretty boy foot was going in my mouth.

"Mmm," I whispered, pressing his toes to my lips. Licking one
softly. Taking the big toe into my mouth and sucking it softly. A sweet
little mini-cock. A taste of things to come. He looked shocked. Look
surprised.

"Nobody ever sucked your foot before?"

"Nuh-uh," he said, wide-eyed. The sound came out like complete amazement.

"I like sucking on boys' feet, Davey. I like rubbing my cock on them and
cumming on them. Ever have anybody cum on your feet before, Davey?"

He looked completely shocked. He rubbed his own cock, but look
perplexed. Like "why would anybody do that?"

"Um, no" he peeped, wide-eyed and nervous, watching what I was doing to his
foot. I kissed his toes gently. I kissed his arch. Creamy, soft, perfect,
flawless skin.

"I'm going to do that sometime, okay, Davey? I'm going to rub my cock all
over your feet and I'm going to cum all over between your toes."

"Okay," he nodded.

"Some day I'm going to cum all over your pretty feet and you're going to
help me eat it off, okay? We're going to eat it off together, is that
okay?"

I swear he made a peeping sound. Like a wide-eyed little bird. "Peep!"

"Okay," he nodded. "That would be cool."

# # # # # # # # # #

But like I said, Jess, the niceties were over.

"I'm gonna Stranger-Danger you now, Davey," I told him simply.

"Okay," he nodded. "But not your thing in my butt, okay?"

"What thing, Davey?"

"Your cock," he blushed. "Don't put your cock in my butt yet. Please?"

I liked the sound of that "yet."

I liked the sound of that "please."

"Get off the toilet seat," I told him gruffly. "Off the toilet seat and
stand up by the wall."

He looked excited but a little bit scared.

"Now," I said firmly.

And I meant it.

And he obeyed.

# # # # # # # # # #

I put my arms his my shoulders and turned him around, probably too roughly
because he gasped a little when I did it. Not a frightened gasp, a short,
pleasured shaking sound. A fast, excited inhalation of
air. Surprised. Excited. He hadn't expected me to manhandle him that way
and was clearly excited when I did it.

I turned him around. Pushed him up against the bathroom wall and
immediately went down to my knees and spread his beautiful ass.

"Oh, fuck, Davey. Fuck, that's pretty."

I whispered quiet thanks to the gods when I opened his cheeks and saw his
hole for the first time. It was starfish pink and hairless as heaven. A
little red. A little angry from where his long, slender finger had been
self-poking it. Where he'd been finger-fucking himself. And the musky-sweet
boy-scent that wafted out and hit my grateful nostrils actually made my
cock leak. I spread it farther and rubbed it with my face. Rubbed it with
my nose, inhaling.

"Wait, wait," he started to say. "What are you doing? I said no cock in my
butt. What are you going to do?"

I didn't have time to give him a verbal answer, so he'd have to settle for
an oral one. Because by that time my tongue was already on him, right smack
dab in the center of that rosebud, licking and prodding and sucking the
boy-flavor out of him with every fucking muscle I had in my mouth.

"Nnngh, unngh, ahhhh," he moaned instantly.  "I nnnggh!" he babbled. The
preposterous improbability of this bizarre new act probably hadn't occurred
to him. I mean, boners are one thing, but what grown-up man licks a kid's
butthole? I could tell he'd never even imagined this possibility. This
dirty, crazy act. I was licking him where his poop came out. It was
dirty. It was sexy. It was shocking. He was perplexed, but delighted.

"Ngggn...whuh...huh...nnnnn," he drooled.

There are times, I think, when no boy can talk. There are times when speech
just leaves his realm of possibility. I don't know all of the times that
make that happen, Jess, but I'm fairly certain when a boy is standing up
against a bathroom stall, bare-ass naked with his cheeks spread apart,
being rimmed for the very first time in his life, licked and tongue-fucked
by a big-cocked Stranger-Danger man for the first time, I'm fairly sure
that's one of them.

In any event, he wasn't saying even one coherent word. Trying
maybe. Moaning, shaking and whimpering nonsense. Babbling even. But
coherent speech as I ate his sweet hole and ass-sucked the molecules of
flavor out of the essence of innocence? Nope. Not a fucking word, Jess. Not
a fucking word.

And Christ, how he tasted! How do I even put that into words? That first
split second when you eat a new boy. When you put his fresh asshole to the
pad of your tongue for the very first time – that very first swipe –
that very first lap – when his whole, sweet flavor bursts across your
tongue – sour and sweet – earthy and strong – bitter and ripe –
danger and candy – like tangy vinegar – like clay in the soil –
like a piece of ass candy – like a sweet Jolly Rancher, cherry and new,
melting down your tongue, filling your senses, making you crazy, making you
shake inside, making you want to lick him harder, making you want to taste
him more and more and more and more. That's the kind of taste he had,
Jess. The kind you could eat all day and cry because you still didn't get
enough.

And I ate him there, pushed up against the wall of that bathroom stall
until I just couldn't stand it anymore. Just couldn't stand to hear his
whimpering babble-words.

"My fuhhh – my fuhhh – oh-eeee! My fuhhhh--- "

I had no fucking clue what he was trying to say to me, but I spread his
cheeks farther and ate him even deeper and made God damn sure he'd never
finish his sentence.

I wasn't even touching my cock. Not a hint, not a finger. But just the
pressure building up inside my thick, straining missile as I ate this
little cock-teaser was just about more than I could bear. My pants were now
soaked with my own pre-cum. At least a palm-sized patch of stickiness had
formed in my undies by now and soaked through to my pants.

There's a limit to edging under the best of settings, and this was not one
of them, face-first and praying and prying into his open ripe ass, licking
that sweet copper shithole like a man condemned and eating his last meal. I
had to cum, he had to cum, we both knew it, and this was just the tremor
before the earthquake.

"Get on your knees," I growled into his ass.

"Uh, nnnghh," he moaned as I took my mouth from his tingle-numb
hole. Actually whimpered. Cried out like a puppy. Tried to back up into
me. Tried to push his ass back onto my tongue again.

"Nuh-uh," I told him. Turning him around again and standing up. Looking him
right in the eye as I undid my belt and pulled my pants fully down.

"Oh shit," he whispered as I unzipped my pants and my raging cock once
again came into view. Cock hard fuck stick, steel-stiff and needing
him. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he whispered.

"Get on your knees, Davey. Now."

He was down in a second.

He started at it, mesmerized.

I took my shaft in my hand and painted his face with my leaking
pre-cum. There was enough to paint him all glossy and sticky. Believe me,
there was enough. First his right cheek. And then his lips, which made him
moan. And then his eyelids. He closed his eyes instinctively as I painted a
thick, runny, snail trail of cock lube across his picture-perfect, pretty
closed eyelids.

He looked up after I did it, and so many expressions were flying across his
face. Arousal, excitement. Intense disbelief.

He was horny, and eager, and scared, and unsure. He was shell-shocked and
hungry, and desperate and tingling. There was no explanation and no
understanding of what I was doing to him or why he was allowing it, yet
simultaneously every understanding in the world. Synapses were firing he
hadn't even known he posessed.

He was all boy, all innocent, but here on his knees, he had grown-up
needs. Today he needed to make that leap. From boy to loved-boy. For this
thick, meaty cock that was leaking on his face. His eyes were wide, he
opened his mouth, and I knew he was hungry for it beyond his own
comprehension.

"You know what little gay boys eat?" I whispered as I watched him open his
mouth.

"Please," he whispered. "Please make me eat it."

"Say it," I ordered him. "Say it out loud."

"Stuff," he whispered, too quiet to hear.

"What?" I hollered. Pushing the head at his mumbling mouth.

"Stuff," he whined. "Juice! Stuff!"

"Cum!" I barked. "Call it cum!"

"Cum," he whimpered, trying to swallow my head. I pulled back.

"Louder," I told him, painting pree on his mouth like lipstick.

"Cum," he said louder.

"What do they eat?"

"Cum!' he shouted, and this time, it was HIS order. He was angry now. "I
get to eat your cum!"

And now his mouth was open wide. Open and begging for it.

This wouldn't be pretty. This wouldn't last long.

I placed the tip of my fat mushroom head up to his gaping hot boy mouth and
with one – two – just three grasping stroke-squeezes, shot a gusher
of semen into his waiting, wide target.

"OH FUUUUUCCCCK" I shouted, jizzing him good. "OH FUCCCCK, DAVEY, FUCK!!"

His head snapped back and his eyes bugged out instantly. I fired the first
volley right square on his tongue. He gobbled and gagged. He choked just a
little but came back for more. Wrapped his lips around my head and took it
like a big boy. My jets fired into him. Another, then another, shooting
into his mouth, under his nose like snot, dripping down. I hadn't cum in
four days, and now Davey was getting it all. Ropes and wads of thick hot
man cum, and he was gobbling it, sucking it, his mouth latching onto the
crown of my cock. Drinking from me. Sucking at it. Nibbling at me like a
cum-hound. Like a vampire.

"Nnngh, nnngh," he said, swallowing my semen down deep in his throat. It
was a high-pitched whimper. A gratful whimper. A needy little boy sound.

"Oh fuck, pretty boy," I whispered as I fed him. "Sweet baby, oh pretty
boy."

He was whining and whimpering and swallowing and shaking. His hand had
danced down again to finger his butthole. Tiny, slender digit trying to
butt-fuck himself again. Trying to fuck himself, impale himself on one tiny
finger as he swallowed my man cum.

"You want your ass fingered?" I growled at him.

He nodded, mouth still full of my cock tip. Nodded, looked up, made
whimpering sounds with tears in his eyes.

I stood him up roughly. I got on my knees. I opened my mouth and put his
hand on his own little cocklet, all four inches of it, red and angry and
straining. I aimed it at my mouth.

It was almost like I didn't even want to suck him, Jess. Like that would be
too much to do at first. Like that would have to wait until the next
time. Even the thought of "next time" gave me shivers. But right now, I
couldn't explain it. I just needed him to stroke off like a little boy does
– the ultimate boy act – let me see you jack off, baby -- just the
way you do it at home, when you're in your bed at night. When you're all
alone and nobody's listening. Jack off like a boy does, and give me
whatever cum you can muster right now, slap-happy fast, and right in my
mouth.

"Right in here, Davey," I growled at him hoarsely. "Jack your cock off
right in here. Feed me your little boy jizz, baby. Shoot it in here while I
finger your ass."

"Okay," he said and nodded his head seriously. "Okay, I will."

God, he was hot as fuck when he said that. So serious. So focused. Like he
didn't want to let me down.

I licked his tip to get him started. Sweet sticky boy-honey of his own
forming on the tip. Just a drop, but oh-so fucking sweet. Like honey from
heaven. No bleachy, bitter man cum. Just sweet, pure boy juice. His pre-cum
was like corn syrup. Like sugar. Like Kool-Aid.

I squeezed his ass. I licked his little mushroom crown again for good
measure.

"Cum in my mouth, baby. Jack off in my mouth."

He moaned again and he got to work. He fumbled, he struggled to find half a
rhythm, but he was too excited. To young and intense. I put my finger to
his mouth.

"Suck my finger. Make it wet."

He moaned and he ate it. Took it deep in his throat. I could feel him
trying to swallow it. He half-gagged. Slobbered it with spit.

Wet, I slid it down his cheeks and touched it to his asshole. He went wild
with desire. Shaking. Backing up INTO it, Jess. He couldn't WAIT to get my
finger inside him. He literally backed up INTO it. Fast. Hard.

It slid into his ass in one long jab. He moaned and he whimpered. No
first-sphincter, second-sphincter inch-by-inch pussy shit. His ass simply
opened up like a flower and he took my whole finger inside in one,
swift-slippery insertion. And the minute my finger went in, Jess – the
MINUTE I stuck it all the way in him and pushed against his little prostate
nut – he was shaking and squealing and jerking and cumming.

"Eee-eee-eeeee!" he yelled, and he twitched and he jerked, trying
desperately to aim his cockhead at my open mouth. I had to steady him with
my other hand and help him stand still.

As he rammed his quivering cocklet against my tongue, his drops sizzled
out. Sweet little dot-drops – just the tiniest taste of little boy
heaven – just the simplest drops of 12-year-old nectar. Clear-glazed
drops of virgin boy honey. Just two. So tiny. You wish there were more. A
cup. A bowlful. You'd lap it up like a thirsty dog. But there were only two
drops, bursting with flavor. Liquid fireworks. Boy-cum sweetness. I
swallowed them gratefully, like liquid gold.

"Oh, baby. Oh, Davey. That's it, buddy. SUCH a good taste. SUCH a good
boy."

"I came on your tongue," he gasped, he shook, he whispered.

He sounded surprised. He sounded amazed.

"Was that your first cum, baby?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, all shell-shocked. Disheveled.

"I think so, I mean. I never saw it squirt before. I saw it go in your
mouth. I saw it land on your tongue."

"You did good, Davey." I told him. And to remind him what was still in his
ass, I pushed my finger forward again.

"Sssss!" he hissed. "Too far – too far!"

I pulled back immediately. I didn't want to hurt him.

"Slow," he said. "Go slow. I'm all tickly."


I know that feeling. Every man does. That post-cum tickle that borders on
pain. It's especially hard for boys. Little orgasm factories, it actually
hurts in the immediate seconds after they cum. It tickles so much it hurts.

Slowly I removed my finger from his ass. It was slippery but clean. I
touched it to my lips and I looked him in the eye. I licked the length of
it slowly, seducing him with my nastiness. I sucked it into my
mouth. Sucked on it gratefully.

"Oh wow," he whispered. "Oh wow, oh wow. That was just in my butt."

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded, continuing to lick it.

"That's gross," he giggled. "That's dirty. That's sexy."

I brought it up between us. Between his lips and mine. I touched it to his
lips and I kissed it between us. His tongue darted out and licked it
too. And two of us stood there in the stall, cocks spent and kissing,
licking the taste of his ass off my finger, french-kissing and sharing it
between us, until there was nothing left but spit. Nothing left but the
taste of our own tongues.

I helped him dress. Took his neatly-folded clothes and handed each piece to
him. Undies. Jeans. T-shirt, socks and shoes. A shame to cover those feet
up with socks. "Garments of despair" I used to call them when you'd wear
them, Jess, before I'd take them off and suck your hot feet into my
mouth. Your pretty toes glistening with my spit. Your pretty arches sliding
up and down on my cock until I shot my steaming hot load all over them and
listened to you whine because I didn't put it in your ass.

This kid had beautiful feet, and I was sorry to watch him cover them up. I
could fuck that boy on the prettiness of his feet alone. I could bring
myself to orgasm just by sucking on his toes and cumming on the pretty pink
pads of his right foot alone. You know damn well I could, and it turns out
I did.

But that's another letter, Jess. A story for a different time. I'm too God
damn hot after writing this one, I have to stop and jack off. Crazy little
fucker gets me so fucking hot, Jess, I cum when I see him, I cum when I
touch him, I cum when I suck him, and I cum when I think about him. I can't
stop cumming when Davey's on my mind. I think of him all fucking day, Jess,
and I could just sit here all day and jack off repeatedly until my cock
wore off, till it went up in flames, or they just showed up with the
straightjacket and just hauled me a away.

"You have to go home now?" he asked hesitantly as he finished dressing and
I unlocked the stall.

"No," I shrugged. "I'm in no hurry."

"Can you sit with me for a while? You know? Out in the food court or
something?" He looked at me hopefully. "I can buy you lunch."

I laughed. Not mocking him, just a sweet, surprised laugh.

Here I'd just molested him. Sucked his cum drops and fingered his ass in a
bathroom stall, and this little angel was offering to buy ME lunch. Boys
are so clueless about boylove, aren't they, Jess? Mother of Jesus, he
wanted to buy ME lunch in the food court to offer his thanks. Little did he
understand that to keep him in my sight for ten minutes longer, I would
have bought him live lobster flown in from Maine. Angus steak from a cow I
killed myself. Buckets of caviar. Jeroboams of champagne. Boys are so
clueless about what boylove could buy them. If they had any clue at all,
they'd all be rich.

On our way out, I moved the cones and the "Closed for Cleaning" sign back
to the side. The men's room was open for business once again. I looked back
over my shoulder. The stall door was halfway open. I wanted it bronzed,
Jess. I wanted that handicapped stall declared a National Monument.

He walked ahead of me on his way to the food court. He quickly looked back
over his shoulder to make sure I was following him.

And of course, I was.

I'd only known him for 30 minutes, Jess, but I'd already swallowed his boy
jizz, fingered his ass, and I'd follow him anywhere. Jizz? Ass? Criteria
met.

I'd write more, Jess – what we talked about in the food court – what
we did after we left there – the movie I took him to next door – and
what we did in the movie theater, then in my van when I put his bike in the
back and drove him home. By that time he was late getting home and it turns
out he'd be in big, big trouble.

But in that van, even running late, he still made me stop along the
way. Made me pull the van into a quiet little side street where, even
though he was late and would definitely be grounded when he got home, he
STILL made me pull over so I could suck him again. Suck him properly this
time. So he could suck me. Take all of my cock in his mouth this
time. Right down deep in his throat until he learned what a gag reflex was,
and how to relax it. That next time in the van, he sucked me so deep his
eyes watered, he sucked me properly and he even put his finger up MY
ass. And I bet you didn't see that one coming, Jess. I know I sure didn't.

I'd tell you all about it, but it's late and I'm tired and I really need to
jack off and go to bed, so I'll save it for the next letter.

Write me back and tell me what you think. Do you want to hear more? Because
I think I need to tell it to you.

You're gonna love him when you meet him, Jess. And Christ, I hope you do
someday, because what a threesome that would make. You and me and Davey and
all of his kinky dirty little tricks? And believe me, he has more up his
sleeve. I haven't even scrathed the surface yet.

I haven't fucked him yet, but that's coming too. Believe me, that's
coming. Like a train bearing down on a tunnel. Head along the same track
long enough and you can bet your ass it's going in there at some point.

But for now, he's 12 and he's pretty and he reminds me of you when you were
a kid.

When you and I used to do the same kind of stuff you do to boys now. Back
when you were the boy and I was the man. Back when you were 11 and I was
29.was in my 20's.

Good times, Jess. And this boy is helping me relive them. My unexpected
Memphis boy, sweet and sexy. Like a brand new you. I'll tell you more next
time, Jess. Next time, he gets really dirty with me and I can't wait to
tell you. You're gonna love it, baby. I promise.

Sleep well.

I love you, Jess.

Always have. Always will.

Yours,
Zee

# # # # # # # # # #

# # # # # # # # # #

CHAPTER 2. "A LOAD ON THE ROAD"

# # # # # # # # # #

Dear Jess,

Sorry it's been a few days since I sent my last email. My Memphis boy has
been keeping me busy. Holy shit, Jess, has he been keeping me busy. Busy
might even be an understatement as I try to figure this sexy little boy
out. What does he want exactly? What makes him tick? He's 12, he's
beautiful, he's kinky as hell, but he's still just a kid, and still just a
sweet mystery. Well, parts of him anyway. Other parts, I'm already very,
very familiar with.

Where did I leave off last time? Oh yeah, the bathroom stall in the mall,
the first time I met him.

After I ate him and jizzed in his mouth. after he stuck a finger up my ass
and jacked off in mine, well geez, Jess, what was left to do but by the
poor kid lunch, right? It was funny, actually. If you remember from my last
note, he actually asked if he could buy ME lunch. I laughed a little
because it took me by surprise, but I was pleased, Jess, because it meant
the kid wasn't freaked out by what I did to him in the bathroom stall. It
meant he wanted to spend some more time with me. And in my mind anyway,
maybe do more.

So we headed for McDonald's in the food court and we ordered at the
counter. (And yes, I paid. You're never gonna let me live that down are
you, the time you were 13 and I forgot my wallet at home and you had to buy
me lunch at Burger King). But yeah, smart ass, this time I paid, which
seemed to pleasantly surprise him. He looked happy when I paid. Proud and
shy. He blushed a little.

We took our tray and sat off to the side of a not-too-busy food court where
he ate slowly and I just watched him, so in love with the movements and the
eroticism of his tiny gestures, it was all I could do to occasionally
remember to take a bite of my own sandwich or a sip of my coke.

There's an author on this story site I read, Jess, and I really need to
send you some of his links, and he did this story once where a lippy little
street kid picks up a guy at a theater after a show, and the guy takes him
to McDonald's and just sits there staring at him, watching him eat, lost
and awed and cock-knocking horny over how fucking hot the kid is without
even knowing it.

And fuck, Jess, I just have to cut and paste and paraphrase him a little,
because this is exactly what it felt like that first day in the food court,
watching my little Memphis boy eat.

I have to tell you, it was a cock-rocking adventure just to watch this kid
eat french fries. He didn't take them out of the box, three, four, five at
a time like other kids, cramming them hand-to-mouth like an
addiction. Nope. This kid ate them calmly, individually, purposefully, one
at a time, no rush, dipping them in ketchup, bringing them to his beautiful
lips, his tiny tongue, his perfect teeth, sucking just a little,
tantalizing me, before he bit.

The little divot between his nose and upper lip – the philtrum, it's
called (his was so sexy, I had to look up the word just so I knew what to
call it) – was perfect, pronounced and erotic. Watching him eat, I
wanted to kiss that little groove, that little alley between his nose and
lips. Lick it. Taste it. I could almost imagine one small drop of my cum
resting on it perfectly. Nestled into that perfect little indentation.

"What?" he asked suddenly, mid-bite.

"What do you mean, what?" I replied.

"You're staring at my mouth. Do I have ketchup or something?"

He was totally innocent for a split second, even though I'd just been
eating his ass and cumming in his mouth ten minutes before.

"No. You're good," I told him. "You just have a pretty mouth. Sorry."

He giggled. He blushed. He went back to his meal.

Every bite of his burger was erotic, unintentional performance art. I just
came, Jess. I just came a ton, but I still I got hard again just watching
him eat his hamburger. I'm not kidding, rock hard. His eyes rarely left
mine. Searching me out. Looking ahead for what might come next. I really
didn't know. But I could tell he was feeling great pride in pleasure in
making me watch him eat this way, so he very quietly and purposefully
continued.

When he drank his soda, head bent down over the cup, red, wet lips around
the tip of the straw, eyes looking up at me piercing and pretty, it was
over right there, Jess. This kid was going to get anything he wanted from
me. Food, money, a year in my bed, anything.

A Big Mac's messy, Jess, especially for a little mouth, but he didn't have
any problems at all. Just took his time and slowly bit, slowly chewed. The
few times he did get special sauce on his upper lip, he just slowly and
carefully wiped it off with a napkin. And oh yeah. Don't think the "special
sauce" reference was lost on me for a minute. Not for a fucking blink.

His fingers were slender and narrow. Beautiful long boy fingers, at that
borderline age where they've lost the pudgy baby-fat of childhood, but they
haven't yet reached the thickeness of a man's yet. Long, lean boy fingers,
Jess, narrow and slim and perfect.

I imagined them wrapped around my dick, or running through my sweaty hair
after I fucked him, or wet with spit and exploration, poking greedily into
his upturned ass, the way I'd first found him in the handicapped bathroom
stall. When he licked off his forefinger as he ate, keeping it clean, all I
could think was, "That forefinger has just been up your asshole, Davey, and
mother of everything holy, I want to lick it off too."

"I want to sit right here in a public food court and suck your sticky
little ass-finger for all the world to see."

# # # # # # # # # #

But what I really said was this:

"So, do you come here often?"

And even Davey laughed, because even to a 12-year-old, it's such a hokey
line. The sound of his laughter was stardust.

"Sometimes," he smiled, taking another sip of his Coke. He looked up at me
with innocent eyes but such a sweet, sexy smile, I couldn't tell if he was
flirting with me or not.

Oh, those lips, Jess. He didn't know what he was doing to me just by
slightly parting those lips and sucking on a straw. I really did fear if I
watched him do that too long, I might faint. I mean really and truly
faint. And you know I'm serious when I say that, Jess, because that comes
from a guy who could fuck two boys before breakfast and still leave room
for sausage.

"So, do you always, you know, when you come here, uh...?" I was dancing
around the inevitable.

"Go in the bathroom like that?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I said. "And, uh, do the finger thing?"

"Yep," he said. "Most times."

"And you do that because...?" I was fishing. Trying to make sense of it.

"Cause I like things up my butt, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Okay," he blushed. "I'm pretty sure. I don't know why I like it so much,
but I do."

"What else do you put up your butt?" I asked sincerely. It wasn't a leering
question. I was honestly curious.

"I don't know," he blushed. "That's kind of personal. I just met you."

Now it was my turn to look incredulous.

"Kid, I just had my tongue up your ass and my cock in your mouth. I think
we're past the first date jitters."

He giggled.

"I guess you'll just to hang around me more and find out," he said, smiling
at me. And that time he WAS flirting, Jess. That time he was definitely
flirting.

# # # # # # # # # #

"My thing gets hard when I put stuff in my butt," he admitted. "And I jack
it up and down and I get my juice."

"First of all, kid," I explained to him patiently. "I think if you've
reached to stage where you're getting your hole licked in a men's room, you
might want to use the right words."

He nodded. Even sat up straighter, like class was in session.

"Say cock," I told him. He giggled. I rolled my eyes.

"It's your cock, Davey, not your thing. Say cock."

"Cock," he blushed.

"Say cum," I told him. "Not juice. Say cum."

"Cum."

"Do you like the taste of cum, Davey?"

He blushed even deeper.

"Sorta."

"Do you eat your own cum?"

"Sorta."

"Do you want to eat some more of my cum?"

"Sorta."

I nodded toward the men's room. He was up like a shot.

"Whoa," I laughed. "You can finish your sandwich first."

"Oh," he said, sitting back down. "Yeah, I guess so."

He picked it up and continued his precision munching.

"So, how long have you been gay, kid?"

He stopped in mid-bite. Looked at me with what I can only describe as sheer
horror, Jess. Wide-eyed horror that I'd even suggest such a thing.

"Oh, no," he said seriously. He looked me dead in the eyes to drive the
point home. "I'm not THAT. I'm not the G-Word."

"The G-Word?" I repeated, at a bit of a loss.

"You know. Guh—guh---"

"Wow, you really do have a limited vocabulary, don't you kid? You can't
even say gay?"

"Well, no," he said. "I can say it, I just can't BE it."

"Okay," I said patiently. "You're just kinda experimenting in there then,"
I said, nodding again toward the men's room.

"Right," he nodded. "But I'm not gay. Nuh-uh. No way. My dad would kill
me."

"I don't know," I shrugged and winked as I reached for one of his
fries. "Some dads don't mind a gay kid. Some even find them, you know,
useful."

"Ewww," he said, apparently imagining his dad's tongue up his butt. "No
thanks. Not my dad."

"Okay," I said. "But lots of kids are gay, Davey. There's nothing wrong
with it."

"Nope," he said firmly. "I like the taste of juice. But I'm not gay. I'm in
sports. I'm in track. And Little League. And I play football!"

"I got news for you, kiddo. Lots of football players drink juice too. And
I'm not talking about Capri Sun."

"Well, I'm not like that," he insisted.

"Great." I shrugged. "No offense intended."

"It's okay," he said patiently. "I just get excited sometimes. Wanna go in
the bathroom and do more stuff?"

So my non-gay Memphis boy and I went back into the bathroom of the Kirby
Woods Mall for Round Two of him not being gay.

# # # # # # # # # #

But fuck me if it wasn't packed in there, Jess. Two guys at the urinal, and
two more giving birth to what I suspected were twin elephant colons by
smell of the fog in the air. Davey turned up his nose and my cock wilted on
the spot. I'm all for smelling boy ass, Jess. I have, and I love it. But
the thick, rank stench of grown-up man poop is a different club entirely,
and it's one I'm not signed-up for.

"Hey," I suggested. "Why don't we go out to my van and just go
somewhere. Drive to a park, or drive over to my place."

"No," he said simply. "I can't do that. You might Stranger Danger me with
your cock up my butt."

I couldn't argue with him there, Jess, because truth is I might have. I
know I sure wanted to.

"Okay," I said patiently. "Do you know of anywhere else? Anywhere safe for
you?"

"We could go to a movie," he suggested meekly. "There's the theater next
door."

"Sure," I said, rubbing his head, which he seemed to like. "A movie sounds
fine. I'll buy." He smiled.

"Theaters are good," he pronounced. "I do lots of stuff in movie
theaters. They're dark and nobody pays attention to you."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't happen to have a blanket in your van, would you?" he
asked. "You know. For when you Stranger Danger kids and stuff?"

I shrugged sheepishly. He had me dead to rights.

"Um, yeah."

"Excellent," he said. "Bring it in. I can really have some fun if there's a
blanket."

Oh my stars and garters, Jess. I was beginning to think I was out of my
league.

# # # # # # # # # #

We walked to my van, and he actually did stay a few steps back as we neared
it. I guess in theory I could have shoved him in and made a run for it, but
you know me, Jess. That's not my style. I'm sure that's what he was
half-imagining in his head, though. It was flattering actually to have him
imagine me that nimble. Shit, Jess, I'm 45-years-old. Abduct a kid and
subdue him in a moving van and still keep my eyes on the road while he's
wrestling around in there? Holy crap, I'm lucky I can get up IN that van
without making the "oof" noise."

But when I grabbed the little blanket from the back, his eyes lit up. He
moved forward and took it from me. Rolled it up like a bedroll and tucked
it under his arm. He stood there looking at me. I looked back at him. Damn
it, he was pretty.

"I'm really not scared of you," he said confidently, taking a step closer
to me.

"Good," I said. "Because I'm really not scary."

He nodded down to the crotch of my pants.

"But your cock is getting hard," he pointed out. "I think you kinda wanna
Stranger Danger my butt."

I nodded, no shit.

"Well, I guess it's just gonna have to stay hard for a while," he shrugged
with a flirty smile.

"Yeah, well, I think that's going to be a standard problem when I'm around
you, Davey."

He giggled. Looked around. Reached out and touched it through my pants. I
think I saw fireflies.

"I like your cock," he giggled again. "And see? I'm not a baby. I can say
it. Cock, cock, cock."

And each time he said the word, it felt like he was reaching out and
licking mine. It sent me into stacatto flips.

"Cock, cock, cock" from his pretty red lips. Like three jolts of
electricity running straight up my spine.

He moved his hand away and marched confidently toward the movie theater
across the parking lot. Watching his beautiful skinny ass, I followed.

# # # # # # # # # #

Bucket of buttered popcorn in his lap, giant two-thousand ounce coke to the
left of him, and package of Twizzlers in my lap – "Make sure you get the
Twizzlers," he'd insisted. "Make SURE you get the Twizzlers," like it was
the most important thing in the universe, we settled in to watch the movie.

The movie was forgettable, Jess. I can't even remember what we saw that
day. My attention was all on him.

Holy monkey in a tree, Jess. You think this kid is a horny little hottie in
a bathroom stall, you should see what he does in a fucking Cineplex.

The lights hadn't been down for five minutes before he was saying, "here,"
and handing me the popcorn, handing me the soda, and whispering, "Now. Give
me the blanket." And I did. And he covered his lap with it, and instantly
started fiddling with his pants.

The theater was dark and the blanket was covering his whole lower half, so
I couldn't exactly see what he was doing, but I figured it out fast
enough. He was stripping again, Jess. Buck naked from the waist down. From
under the blanket, out came his pants, completely off. He took a moment to
neatly fold them and handed them to me quietly.

"Put them on the floor," he whispered. "So nobody sees them." Truth be
told, it was a pretty quiet movie showing. I'd purposely picked a dull
movie, not a kid flick or an action-adventure film. I wanted privacy, and I
picked wisely. There were a few other couples sitting rows and rows ahead
of us, but we were relatively private, way toward the back, in our own
little world. As long as we kept it quiet, I don't think anybody would even
turn around to look at us.

He fiddled some more under the blanket and two seconds later, off came his
underwear.

"Fold them," he whispered, handing them over.

And honestly, Jess, I intended to do that, just follow his instructions,
but before I knew what I was doing, because truly my nose has a mind of its
own, I had my face buried so far in the crotch of those tighty whities,
smelling the life out of them, it made me moan and it made him giggle.

"You're nasty," he said. "You like smelling boys butts, don't you?"

"What do you think?" I mumbled, and believe me, I didn't stop smelling. "Oh
fuck, kid. Yours smells good."

"Gross," he giggled. "I can't believe you DO that."

"...said the boy who's sitting in a movie theater naked."

"Shhh," he said, sucking on his finger and getting it wet. "Never talk
during a movie."

# # # # # # # # # #

I wish I could say we watched the movie, Jess. I wish I could say we ate
the popcorn. But neither of those were high on the agenda. Because you know
what he did don't you? Of course you do. We all do.

He stuck his finger up his ass again, Jess. Stuck it right straight up his
ass under a little thin blanket in the Kirby Woods Cineplex, three rows
from the back, while forgettable actors did their movie star thing on the
big screen.

And he put it in himself, then he pulled it out, then he wet his finger
again, then he put it in again. Then he settled into a rhythm, finger
fucking himself. And his eyes never left the screen. I just sat there
watching him.

"Can I lift the blanket?" I begged.

"Just a little," he whispered, looking around, paranoid. "Do it fast."

I lifted the blanket. His cock was hard. His slender little finger was
buried to the hilt in his sweet young boyhole. He took it out.

"Wanna smell me?" he asked.

I think I probably growled. I grabbed him by the wrist. I held his finger
up to my nose. I smelled it, all rich and earthy and boy. I put it in my
mouth. I licked it. I leaned over. I grabbed him by the back of the
neck. Pulled him to me. Wrapped my mouth over his. Kissed him. He
moaned. Kissed him with my tongue. Stuck my tongue in his mouth and felt
his little tongue poking back. He tasted like popcorn and eagerness and
soda. I kissed him with my tongue, Jess. Our cocks were hard. I didn't care
who saw me.

"Suck me," I grunted quietly in his ear. "Get on your knees and suck my
cock."

"No way," he said, alarmed. "Somebody will see."

"Oh God, kid," I moaned. "I gotta get my cock sucked."

"Later," he promised. "Just watch the movie."

# # # # # # # # # #

Jess, I can't even describe how long an hour and forty minutes lasts when
you've got a naked kid by your side, covered in a blanket and performing
digital anal stimulation on himself that you can hear, see and smell. He
moaned and whimpered quietly as he fingered himself, Jess. God Almighty,
I'm surprised my cock didn't just explode on the spot.

There comes a point of hardness where honestly, you'd think the blood
vessels would just burst from prolonged arousal. It was like the
side-effects on the Viagra commercial. "If your erection lasts for more
than three days, please see your doctor."

"See your doctor?" a friend of mine once said to me. "Shit, if my erection
lasted more than three days, I wouldn't see my doctor. I'd drive into the
city!"

Well, he certainly had mine hard enough to last for three days, Jess, just
from the fingering and the kissing and occasionally reaching over to rub
mine through my pants. You've heard of edging, Jess. Well, this was edging
times 100.

"You're all wet," he said as he rubbed against the stain. "Did you pee?"

"That's pre-cum, kid," I explained to him patiently. "It's what comes out
of a guy's cock before he gets to cum. It means he's turned on."

"I turn you on?" he asked, surprised and wide-eyed, like the fact that he
was naked and finger-fucking himself in the seat next to me might be, I
don't know, mundane?

"Fuck yes, you turn me on, Davey. If I don't cum soon, I think I'm going to
die."

"Okay," he whispered. "You can drive me home, okay? And we can stop and you
can cum. I'll even drink it for you."

"Oh God," I moaned.

"Just don't Stranger Danger me in my butt yet," he said in all
sincerity. "No cock in my butt. You have to promise. I'm still scared of
that part."

"Okay," I promised him. "Whatever you're ready for."

"Say I swear."

"I swear."

"Okay. Thank you."

Then he paused a second, looked me in the eye, crooked his finger at me and
said, "Come here, I want to whisper something really close in your ear."

I leaned in. His breath was hot and sweet and made me crazy.

"I'm gonna put a Twizzler in my butt and pull it out make you eat it," he
whispered. And while he whispered it, he rubbed my cock some more.

"Oh God," I moaned. "Oh fuck. Oh God."

And that's exactly what he did. Pulled the blanket aside and let me
watch. He let me watch him deep throat a Twizzler to get it wet, Jess. And
then he snaked it up his tiny little asshole. And he pulled it back out
clean and shiny. And then he sucked his finger and fucked his own ass again
while I slowly ate it. Ate that Twizzler tasting like sugar and cherry and
Davey's sweet boyhole right there at the movie theater.

One, two, three, four, five whole Twizzlers, Jess. Each one better than the
next one. I ate five Twizzlers from his tight shiny boyass, Jess. And if
the movie hadn't ended, we would have finished the whole fucking bag.

# # # # # # # # # #

My pants were nearly soaked by the time we finished the movie. It was
getting darker now as we loaded his bike into the back of my van and he
told me where he lived, but told me to go somewhere else first. Pull off
the road somewhere quiet "so we could do some more cock stuff," he said,
"some more cock and butt stuff, but just not the fuck part." He giggled
when he said "fuck." I could tell it wasn't a word he was used to saying
out loud.

I watched him in the passenger seat. He was rubbing his cock now too. I had
a boner. He had a boner. We were both desperately looking for a secluded
pull off, because we both knew how this van ride was ending. We were about
to take a right onto Ejaculation Avenue.

"Do boys give you boners?" he asked me as I drove.

"Boys always give me boners," I answered honestly. "100% of the time."

"I got a boner from a boy once," he said.

"Just once?"

"Well," he blushed. "I guess a few times."

Yeah right, I thought. If a "few" meant "daily."

"So, what boy gave you a boner most recently," I asked him, trying to
narrow it down.

"Football practice," he shrugged. "Tyler Tucker touched my taint."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. It sounded like a tongue-twister.

"What?" he said defensively. "It wasn't supposed to be funny."

"No," I said, recovering. "It's just...that was funny! Tyler Tucker touched
my...oh, never mind. He touched your taint?"

"Yeah. It's the part between your nuts and your A-hole."

"I know what a taint is, kid. I've been touching taints since before you
were born. But he touched yours at football practice? How does that work?"

"I was snapping him the ball," he answered. "And he reached up like he
always does. Right between my legs. Right up by my cup. Only this time he
touched my taint. And he did it on purpose."

"Whew," I sighed. The thought of little Davey suited-up in football gear,
bending over with his ass in my face made me want to go out for seventh
grade quarterback, that's for sure. If only there were time machines,
Jess. Fuck me standing.

"And you could feel it? Him touching your taint? Through all the gear and
the padding?"

"Of course," he said. "Your taint's not covered. You leave it out."

"Huh." I admitted. "I never knew that."

"Yep. Tailbone pad comes to the top of your butt. And the cup holds your
junk. But no pads on your taint. A guy can touch it all he wants."

"And Tyler Tucker..."

"Touched my taint."

"Fuck," I said, still suppressing the urge to laught at him again.

"And it gave me a big boner," he said.

"I can imagine."

"And by the way, if you ever get a big boner in a football cup, it hurts."

"I believe you."

"So if we pull over and you suck me, I kinda want to pretend you're Tyler
Tucker at first, okay?"

"Fine by me."

"But I'm still not gay. I'm still not the G-Word."

"It's your party, kid. I'll dance however you want me to."

# # # # # # # # # #

We pulled over on a dark gravel road leading into an empty ballpark and
drove to the far end of the baseball diamond. There was nobody around for
miles. I put the car in park, turned off the lights and engine and motioned
him to the back seat, which was a long, one-seater bench. He took his pants
off immediately. Folded them neatly. Took off his undies. Folded them
too. Sat back. Looked me right in the eye.

"Okay," he announced. "You can cock suck me now, you fucking cock sucking
fucker."

My eyebrow shot up.

"Well, that was unexpected," I told him.

"Think I can't say "cum," huh?"

I smiled.

"Cum, cum, cum," he said proudly. "Cock sucking cock fucker."

"Slow down, bad boy. I'm convinced."

He giggled. And jutted his dick up at my face.

And I dove down on that little steel-hard cocklet like it was the last hot
dog in Disneyland.

Jess, there is something inexplicably beautiful about the taste of a
12-year-old's cock. I've sucked them before. You've sucked them before. You
know what I'm talking about.

It's that 4-inch flavor that goes beyond verbal description. A mixture of
scents and sweat and pheromones and spice and pee and soap and something
you just can't put your finger on. Something that eludes you. A salty,
coppery, fleshy something. You can suck your thumb and it's not even
close. You can suck a man cock and it's nowhere near it. It's elusive,
Jess, the hot new taste of boycock. Elusive and beautiful and I could have
sucked on his forever.

He put his hands on my head, pushed my mouth down deeper. Jutted his hips
up into me. Gave it to me with fervor. I had no clue how many times this
kid had his cock sucked before, but I'm here to tell you Jess, if this was
numero uno, he took to it like a duck takes to water.

Oh yeah. This kid was going to be GOOD at getting his cock sucked by the
time he hit eighth grade next year. He wasn't just docile, lying there all
nervous and fluttery, like some boys, just taking it. Oh, no Jess. He was
grinding back. He was in full participatory fuck-back. He was grabbing and
grinding and pushing and jutting, and I gotta tell you, Jess, he was giving
me a fairly good version of a 12-year-old skull-fuck.

"Scoot your ass up a little," I whispered to him between mouthfuls of
dick. "Scoot up your legs up and I'll lick your taint. Just like Tyler
Tucker, fucker."

He giggled. Scooted up. Stopped laughing when my tongue hit his crack. I
ate his balls. I ate his taint. I ate his sweet butthole and it still
tasted like Twizzlers. I slipped a finger in. He was wet and open and ready
for probing. He moaned and said "yessssss" when my finger slid inside
him. He pushed back instantly. Engulfed it. Wanted it deeper. This kid
didn't fuck around with fingers in his ass. I may have been an expert at
the other stuff, Jess, but fingers were this kid's specialty area. He was
infinitely familiar with where to put them and how deep they needed to go.

So, I licked his taint. I sucked his cock. And I finger-fucked him
relentlessly.

"Shove it in harder," he whispered hoarsely. "In my ass harder. Really
hard."

I pushed and dug and I didn't disappoint him. I found his little
button-spot. He went half mad when I pushed on his prostate and sucked his
little fuckstick.

He grabbed my head and he pushed up into me, and he came like a big boy.

"NNNGGGH," he grunted, and he fired out two sweet drops of boy nectar right
into my mouth. Even sweeter than the cherry licorice I still tasted in his
asshole.

My own cock was about ready to burst.

"Your turn, Davey. And it won't take long."

He got down between my legs and started to service me.

And you could tell that he liked it, Jess.

"I'm not gay," he'd told me with such sincerity. "I'm not the G-Word."

Yeah, well, you do what you have to do to wake up in the morning and look
yourself in the mirror, but I can tell you right now, Jess, with my cock
down his throat, if this kid didn't grow up and turn out to be the gayest
dick hound on two wheels, he was going to be the first motherfucking
straight kid to win the Academy Award for cocksucking.

He dove down on my dick. Too fast. He gagged. He pulled up instantly with
tears in his eyes, the gag reflex making him blink wetly in shock. For a
minute he teetered on his knees, surprised at how hard my cock had felt in
his throat. How deep. How shocking. For a minute, he looked so unsure and
unsteady, I was almost worried he was going to throw up. But nope, that
storm passed fast.

He shook his head – literally shook off the shock – and he was back
on me in a second – going just as deep, going just as far – and not a
gag to be heard this time. Like he stared down my cock and he made it his
bitch. "Listen you fucker," I could hear in his head. "You make me gag?
Well, fuck you. I'll hop back on the horse that threw me." He was taking no
prisoners, Jess. He'd just won his first pissing contest with my cock, and
he was sucking on it like nobody's business.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh sweet motherfucker," I whispered.

He moaned around the head of it, way deep in his throat, and his moan was
an electric buzz that zapped through all the way to my balls.

"Oh, baby, oh baby," I was so fucking hot. I was SO ready to cum. Jesus
Fucking Christ, Jess, this kid had me so hot, I was doomed to prematurely
ejaculate in his mouth every fucking time he went down on me. It had only
taken four or five strokes in the men's room at the food court, it was only
going to take thirty seconds here. Fuck it, Jess. I had no pride or staying
power with this kid. I was going to blow a minute after he started.

And I did. Oh fuck me, I did.

I grabbed his head and I pulled it down on my cock, and that time he did
gag again, Jess. He gagged hard but he grabbed my hips and pulled me in
even deeper. Mother of God, even gagging, he wanted me deeper, and when I
saw him do that, it was all over, pardner. It was over right there.

"You fucker," I grunted, and I filled him with my sperm. It shot out in
ropes down his throat, thick and hot and creamy and copious. He didn't miss
a beat. Just kept sucking and swallowing, sucking and swallowing.

"Nnng, nnng," he gurgled as he swallowed. "Nnng, mmmm, nnng, nnng..."

"Oh fuck," I whispered. "Oh fuck, baby boy. You do that so good, baby. You
do that so good."

He swallowed and swallowed and he didn't miss a drop. He looked up at me
proudly as I tapered off. Looked up proudly as he drank my last
drops. Slipped my cock out of his throat. Licked around the head. Licked
around the piss slit. Lapped up the side of my shaft. Got it all. Every
drop.

Stuck his nose into my pubes. Smelled deeply. Made a satisfied sighing
noise. Sucked my tip a little more. Reached up with a little hand and
fondled my balls. Licked the shaft. Kissed the tip.

"That was good," he smiled up at me. "That was really, really good. You
make a lot of juice. You make way more than me."

He climbed up on my lap and he kissed me. He was naked from the waist
down. My cock was pressing on his ass. He felt it. I felt it too. I'd just
cum, but Jesus Jess, his ass was on my cock. Of course it got hard
again. Of course it did.

He felt it harden. Felt me pressing it up toward the wet cherry Twizzler
hole it inevitably needed to go.

"Nuh-uh," he whispered through his cum-sticky kissed. "Not in my butt
hole. Not yet. I'm scared."

"Shhh," I said. "I can go soft. I can make it gentle."

But he was already off me, Jess. Scared him away. Me and my big mouth,
Jess. Me and my big cock.

"I gotta go home," he said. "It's late. I'm in big trouble."

He put his clothes on and I zipped up my pants. I started the van and
headed toward his neighborhood.

"That was great, Davey," I told him, reaching over to rub his sweaty
hair. "You did really, really good, kiddo. I'm proud of you."

"That was a lot of cum," he whispered. "I didn't think I could eat that
much."

He licked his lips. Smiled.

"But I did," he whispered, and his hand went down his pants again. "I ate
it all."

# # # # # # # # # #

We drove home quietly. His eyes were closed. He had a smile on his face and
he was clearly trying to finger fuck himself again.

I stopped a block from his house and I took his bike out of the back. He
hopped on immediately and was about to pedal away. Just like that. No
comment, no "see ya."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, when do I get to see you again?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I'm gonna get grounded for a while for being so
late."

"Okay," I said, probably sounding a little more desperate than I
intended. "But after that. Where can I meet you next time?"

"In the woods," he said. "In the woods past the mall. I go there
sometimes. To run."

"To run?" I said. "You mean like jogging?"

"Nah," he said. "Just to run. You know. Without my clothes on. Naked."

"Oh fuck." I muttered under my breath. When did it end with this kid? "Oh
sweet mother fuck."

"You say that a lot," he said, hopping on his bike and pedaling away, my
cum bubbles still swimming in his tummy. He tossed his head back over his
shoulder and gave me a dazzling smile. I could see it in my mind, even if I
couldn't really see it in the streetlights.

"See you later," he said. "In the woods, if you can find me."

And if that wasn't a dare, I don't know what was.

And then he was gone, my sweet little Memphis boy, 12 and beautiful and
magnificently dirty. A sheer puzzle I had yet to put together. And I was
already in love with him I realized, watching him pedaling up the street in
the moonlight, leaving me all kinds of happy and all kinds of horny.

When I got back in the van, I noticed he'd done something for me. Left his
undies neatly folded on the driver's side seat. A little souvenir. And you
can bet I enjoyed them as soon as I got back in the driver's seat. Smelled
them and jacked off and shot another gusher right there while I drove. My
cock got hard the second I saw them, and they were in my face for the next
twenty miles.

I'll tell you about the woods the next time I write, Jess, and how I found
him naked, and what we did when I found him there.

Remember the first time you got naked for me, baby? The first time we took
a shower together and you were so embarrassed to be so naked and vulnerable
like that in front of me? You were 11 then, right? 11 that first time?

Let's just say Davey didn't have that problem at all in the woods, Jess. He
was not shy at all about being naked and loving it. "Running" and "naked"
were just the tip of the iceberg of what that hot little fucker did in the
woods that day, I can tell you that much.

But that's a story for the next time, Jess. It's late. I have to work in
the morning and I've babbled on too long already. I better get some sleep.

I love you, Jess. Always have, Always will. You know that don't you?
Because it's true. Always will be.

More next time. I miss you.

I miss you being 11, and perfect, and mine.

Sweet dreams, baby boy. I'll write again soon.

All my love,
Zee

# # # # # # # # # #

# # # # # # # # # #

CHAPTER 3. "HIS GOODS IN THE WOODS"

# # # # # # # # # #

Dear Jess,

Sorry it's always so long between emails. I keep meaning to sit down one
night and tell it to you properly and all at once, but work keeps getting
in the way, and exhaustion keeps getting in the way, and Davey keeps
getting in the way – in a very, very good way, believe me – but
between living it and loving it – it seems there's never any time to sit
down and write about it. You, of all people, understand. Sorry it's been
ahwile.

Last time I wrote, I told you about Davey at the movie theater – how he
put those sweet little Twizzlers up his ass and I almost died from a
boner-and-sugar-induced coronary on the spot. And then on the van ride
home, how we threw his bike in the back, pulled off the road to a secluded
spot where he blew me six ways to Sunday and went home with enough of my
jizz in his tummy to impregnate the middle school girls' volleyball team.

And then, on the way out of the van, after I had his bike out of the back
and he was just about to pedal away, knowing he'd be grounded for coming
home so late, he told me to find him in the woods next time. Flirted with
me, Jess. Dared me to find him.

"The woods past the mall," he said. "I go there sometimes. To run."

"To run?" I said. "You mean like jogging?"

"Nah," he said. "Just to run. You know. Without my clothes on. Naked."

Oh fuck, Jess. When did it end with this kid? When did it end?

I wanted him so bad, Jess. You know how much I love to fuck. You know how
much I love to put my dick in a boy's ass. How old were you when you took
mine in your ass for the first time? 11? Yeah. You were beautiful that
summer, Jess. So beautiful.

And it was ironic, here I was, driving up and down a stretch of road near
the Kirby Woods, looking high and low for him, looking for any little sign
that he'd been there, running around naked as promised, because it was deep
in the woods where I first fucked you all those years ago in your uncle's
cabin.

I was just the guy who came fishing with you and your uncle. The college
friend. Hell, only half a dozen years out of college. Your uncle and I were
roommates then. We both had a thing for boys and we both knew it. We talked
about it a lot. He even talked about you back then. And you were only
5. But now you were 11. And now he wanted to share with an old friend.

So, when he invited me to come and stay the weekend with the two of you at
the cabin, I drove from two states away to make it happen. You were 11. I
was 29.

And it was clear right off the bat he had done stuff with you. I saw the
way you cuddled up to him with ease. I was on fire with envy the way you
sat on his lap on the couch watching the fire. The way you snuggled back
into him and arched your back when he wrapped his arm around your little
chest.

And noticing my hard cock from across the room, I saw the sparkle in your
eye when he said softly to you, "Hey, Jess? Zee likes boys too. Do you
think you can go over and give him some love?"

And how you came to me, Jess, 11 and perfect. Shy, almost. How you walked
over and stood in front of me, and how I wrapped my arms around you and you
climbed onto me without a word. Straddled my lap. Felt my hard cock between
your buns as you sat down on me. Wrapped your little hands around my
neck. Leaned into me, smelling like marshmallows and hot dogs and boy and
bubblegum and kissed me right on my mouth, an open kiss, a hungry little
boy kiss that made me so hot I couldn't even see the room
anymore. Everything went spinning.

I don't know how long I kissed you before I saw your Uncle Taylor walk over
and unzip his pants.

"Hey Zee," he nudged me. "Watch what he can do."

And then with his cock extended, he said to you, "Come on, Jess. Open up
for me, baby."

And your mouth was on him in a minute, wrapped around his cock, bobbing up
and down, little rivulets of spit running down to your chin. You moaned
while you sucked him, Jess. I'll always remember seeing you with his cock
in your mouth for the first time, how you liked how it tasted. How you
moaned for your Uncle Taylor in your sweet little boy voice.

"Get some," Taylor whispered to me, nodding down at your little bobbing
head. "Open up your pants and get some, Zee."

And I did. I unzipped my fly. Let my cock loose. Your eyes widened and you
moaned again. And I stood there next to your uncle, and you sucked us
both. You expertly bobbed back from one cock to the other. First on his,
then on mine, then his, then mine. Your mouth was the sweetest fire I've
ever felt. I was so excited, Jess. So excited to be in your mouth, I was
cumming in you in no time. And you were eating it like a champ. Not missing
a drop. Swallowing it whole. And your uncle was so excited watching you
swallow my seed, he shot his load all over your pretty face. Shot it all
over your cheeks and nose and sweet, closed eyes, painting you with goo as
you ate my load. I scooped it off your face and fed it to you with my
finger. You ate his too.

And later that night, after we all went to bed. I went off to my room in
the cabin, and you went off to your uncle's. I heard the bed squeaking and
I heard you moaning. Sweet little boy moans, somewhere between pain and
nirvana, so I knew he was fucking you. I knew you were getting long-dicked
by my college buddy, my best friend. Your Uncle Taylor. I was jealous, but
still lost in the slumber of my own drowsy post-cum, and I think I went to
sleep to the sweet sound of your uncle fucking you.

Only to wake up two hours later with you slipping into my bed.

You didn't say a word. You just crawled in with your warm body and your
cold feet and melted into my arms.

"You can fuck me too," you whispered simply, and that's all I needed to
hear. My cock hardened instantly at your touch. There was no silly foreplay
about it. You simply bobbed under the covers, sucked me slowly until I was
wet and ready, and straddled my dick, and slowly sat down on me.

I could feel my cock sink into you, Jess. Your hot, tight ass, still wet
and slippery from your uncle's lube and semen. I held you by the hips and I
rocked you up and down on my cock. I slid your tight ass-chute up and down
on the length of my shaft while you closed your eyes and tilted your head
back. Your mouth was open when I fucked you that first time. Your eyes were
closed. I could smell my cock and your sex mingling in the night of the
cabin. It smelled like ass and cock and boy.

You squeezed your ass around my cock. I could feel your muscles working me,
up and down, tight and tighter. Only 11. Sweet Jesus, so young and so
pretty, but you already knew how to get fucked, Jess. And thank you, thank
you for letting me fuck you too.

"Hard," you whispered. "Go a little harder in me."

I softly rolled you over. I pulled you off my dick. I put you on your back
and I lifted your legs around my shoulders. I re-entered you, perhaps a
little too quickly, because I saw you wince, but then you wrapped your arms
around me and pulled me in tighter, while I fucked your ass the proper
way. While I gave you the fucking I'd wanted to give to a boy all the years
of my adult life.

"Zee," you whispered my name as I filled you with my cock. Slid it in and
out. Felt it wet and sticky with your uncle's spilled jizz. It was a wet
sound, a squishy, sloppy sound as I fucked you. You were already full of
cum. And the sexy thought of fucking into your uncle's cum trail made me
want to add my own.

"I'm going to cum in you now, baby," I whispered softly. You nodded and
grabbed me harder.

"I'm going to cum in your pretty pussy, Jess."

You clenched me. Grabbed onto me. Leaned your head forward and licked my
chest.

Oh, God. You licked my chest, Jess. How did you know what that would do to
me as you held onto me, needing to be filled.

I rutted into you with increased abandon. Felt explosions of pressure
building up from my ball sack. Pushed forward, freezing with
sparkles. Grunting and sweating and freeze-frame gasping with the shock of
my own fierce orgasm and how it make your eyes go wide as I grunted hard
and shoved myself inside of you to fill you with my cum. To pound my cum
hot gushing hard and deep up inside of you. How I leaned down to kiss you
when I came in you and how you bit my lower lip when I did, because I
pushed forward into your cunt so hard when I came. Fuck, it was good in
there. I've never felt it that good, before or since.

"Nnnngggggh," you whimpered in a high, treble voice, and then your own
little cock was twitching, jerking, bouncing, rubbing between us and
squirting two tiny little drops of nectar between our slippery, sweaty
tummies.

My cock shot jets into you and you clasped me to your furnace, licking my
neck, and biting my lower lip. You broke my skin and I could taste my own
copper, but I didn't care. You were hungry, Jess. Even then, you were
hungry for manfuck.

And I came in you so many times after that, Jess. So many times. You still
had your uncle, but you had me too. Fucking you. Filling you. Making you
mine.

Thank you, Jess, for that beautiful first time, and for all the times you
let me fill you after that.

You're still mine, baby. You're still, still mine.

# # # # # # # # # #

For the fourth straight day, I drove past those woods, Jess, thinking of
you, and thinking of Davey. Looking for any sign of him. His bike. A
note. A clue.

A shoe?

Was that a shoe?

Fuck yes, it was.

There at the edge of a path not far from where we'd stopped in the van four
nights ago, there was one of Davey's red Adidas sneakers. I'd have known
that shoe anywhere, Jess. First, well, because it's a shoe, and you know
how I feel about barefoot boys. You know all the stuff I did to your little
piggies when I took those sweet tiny fuckers to market all those years ago.

There's nothing in the world more beautiful than a barefoot boy. The form,
the arch, the freedom of his foot. I've told you all this before, Jess, and
I won't rehash it again here, but there's just something perfect and sexy
and incredibly erotic about a boy taking his shoes off. It's the first step
to getting naked, Jess. It's boyish, and sweet, and sexy, and it's the very
first thing a boy has to do in order to get naked for you. So when I saw
Davey's shoe at the beginning of that path, my heart sang. My cock stood up
and my heart sang.

I parked the van and got out. I walked to the path. Picked up the
shoe. Looked around. There was no sign of Davey.

I started walking down the path, putting the shoe to my nose and inhaling
as I went. It was pure and sweet. There was no odor. Nothing
offensive. Just heat and fabric and rubber and boy. Adidas, I smiled,
looking at the label. "All Day I Dream About Sex." That's what we called it
back in my day, Jess. Did they say that in your generation too?
Adidas. Silly-kid-dirty acronyms for fucking, everywhere you turned? I
smelled Davey's tennie and I smiled. My cock got hard, thinking of the foot
that lived inside it. I'm going to fuck that foot properly someday,
Jess. And I know it won't surprise you when I do.

And down the trail, a second shoe. And then a sock farther down. And
another sock even further.

And now my cock WAS leaking. Now my cock was rock hard, leading me down the
trail like a compass headed for true north. Davey, barefoot, alone, hiding,
somewhere. Could anything be more enticing? I would have walked up Mount
Everest to find him. Scoured the Sahara. A two-mile walk in the woods was
nothing.

God, I wanted to fuck him, Jess. I wanted him that much.

Why couldn't he be like you? Just simple and pliant, coming to me
effortlessly like you did and whispering, "you can fuck me too."

But with Davey it was, "No. Not in my butt. Not yet. I'm still scared of
that part."

How could I get him past that, Jess? I've fucked lots of boys, but with
this one, I'm putty. I'm spineless. I'm overwhelmed.

I love this one, Jess. I love Davey the same way I loved you.

And who wants to cause pain to anyone they love?

I wanted to fuck him, Jess. Standing there with his shoes and socks in my
hand, looking like an idiot, sniffing his sneakers and adjusting my
dripping cock, looking up and down the trail in vain, wondering where he
was, all I could think of was fucking him. Putting his legs up around my
neck and fucking him.

My cock was leaking pre-cum inside my underwear. My heart was pounding. The
sun was hot on my neck. And all I could think of was fucking him, or
waiting. Fucking him, or waiting. Which do I do? What's it gonna be, folks?
The lady or the tiger, Jess. The lady or the tiger.

# # # # # # # # # #

Down the path I found his shirt. And now I was getting even more
excited. Davey, barefoot, now shirtless, now nipple-fresh and exposed. It
was a Green Bay Packers jersey. Even that made me harder. Davey told me he
played sports. "I'm not gay," he assured me. "I play sports." (And that
he'd said with his finger up his ass while I fed him a
mouthload). Fuck. Even his Packers jersey made me harder.

And further down the path, his shorts. Oh God in heaven, his shorts were
off. Dark blue. Knee-length. I sniffed the crotch. I sniffed the
ass. Nothing but Downy. It was maddening.

This meant Davey was somewhere ahead of me, naked except for his underwear,
doing what he said he'd be doing. Running. Naked. Free. Wild. All boy. Only
12. God, I wanted him, Jess. I've never wanted any boy like this. No boy
ever, except you.

Twenty feet ahead, oh sweet God, his underwear. Plain, white Fruit of the
Looms, tossed aside casually like it didn't mean anything for a boy to be
running through the woods with nothing at all covering his body. Naked like
Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, flying off like the little white birds
circling the Serpentine. Christ, Jess. He was naked out there
somewhere. Naked and free and he knew I'd be following him. That first shoe
was for me. It was his "come and find me" sign.

I pressed those underwear to my nose and I thought I would die. The sweet
tangy scent of his ass. The maple-pissy smell of his cock. It all went wild
in my senses and took me to the place I go where nothing else matters
anymore. Where there is nothing but Davey and you, sex and boy, scent and
taste and ass around my cock.

And I found him, Jess. I found him up the trail, naked in the woods.

# # # # # # # # # #

I don't know what I expected. Honestly, I didn't.

Would I get a little further up the trail and would he pop out from behind
a tree, bare-ass naked yelling "Peek-a-boo?" I don't know, Jess. Who knew
with this kid? I wouldn't put it past him.

But it wasn't that, Jess. Oh no, not for little Davey.

This kid redefines "shock value" three times a day.

For a kid who doesn't want to get butt-fucked, he sure spends and
inordinate amount of time doing pervy new things that sure as hell make a
guy like me want to butt fuck him.

I heard him before I saw him.

Or rather, heard IT.

A soft buzzing sound, coming from behind a grove of bushes about 20 feet
off the main trail.

A buzzing sound, Jess. I mean, really. What the fuck?

Bees? Batteries? A toy? An electric – something?

I stepped forward. Walked around the bushes and there he was. Completely
naked, lying on a blanket on the ground. Knees bent up. Lying on his
back. Head back. Eyes closed. Mouth closed and smiling, an uncapped jar of
Vaseline tipped over on the ground next to him.

And his little hand was down between his legs, Jess, and he was sliding a
small, plastic vibrator in and out of his asshole. Jesus Christ, I almost
died on the spot. I could see it, literally, going in and out of his ass as
he pushed it. It was sliding in and out of his tiny pink rectum, his little
puckered anal lips pulling back and forth around it as it slid. He was
smiling. Arching his neck. I could see his pretty adam's apple.

"Davey," I whispered. "Oh sweet fuckhole."

"Do it for me," he whispered back to me quickly. "Push it in and out for
me."

I didn't say a word. Just kneeled down. Took his hand in mine. Took the
vibrator in mine. The vibrator I found out later he'd stolen from his older
brother. Found it under his brother's bed. And now it was Davey's
tool. Davey's secret tool for the woods.

I carefully laid his hand aside. Put it on the blanket and took over the
buzz fuck for him.

It was vibrating on low. I turned it up a notch and pushed it forward. He
gasped and smiled.

"Oh yeah," he whispered. "That feels good. Do it some more. Go faster."

"You like this, huh?" I whispered to him, leaning down and kissing his
cheek. He grabbed my neck and kissed me back. Pulled me down into
him. Kissed me with his tongue.

"Do it," he said pleadingly. " Go fast. In and out of me."

I did, Jess. I slid that little white vibrator in and out of his
asshole. It was maybe five-inches long. Not penis shaped. Just small and
plastic. Egg shell colored. Nothing fancy, but God, it was sure doing the
trick for Davey.

His little ass bucked back against it as I ran it in and out of his hole
deeper and faster than he'd been able to do for himself. He had coated it
well with Vaseline and there was no resistance as I plugged his tiny
boyhole with it.

He cooed when I did, it Jess. Actually cooed with pleasure while I fucked
him with that butt toy.

Steadily, in and out, as he reached up to stroke his own little cock, rock
hard and red in the summer sunshine.

"Before I cum," he whispered. "Put your sperm in me."

"Oh, God," I groaned.

"But just a little," he added quickly, still afraid. "Just put your tip in
me, okay? Not your whole cock. I'm scared."

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I thought, desperate to free my cock from my pants
before he changed his mind.

I fumbled with my button, my zipper, my fly. I tugged my pants down
awkwardly, hopting I didn't cum just taking my dick out. I removed the
vibrator. I pressed my cock head to the entrance of his anus and I pushed
forward slowly.

I saw him wince slightly. He never opened his eyes.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "It's really, really big."

"Yeah," I whispered back, pushing forward. My dick head was covered with so
much pre-cum, it slid in easily. Just the tip. In my mind, I heard it pop
going into him.

"Stop!" he nearly shouted. "No more. Just that much."

God, it was frustrating, Jess. I was so close to fucking him. So close to
just pushing forward for three more seconds and my whole cock could have
been surrounded by the heat of his ass-tunnel. I could be long-dicking this
beautiful boy in no time, cumming so deeply inside his bowels they'd hear
it on the moon.

But, no. I had to be respectful. I had to do what he wanted. All along,
Jess, every step of the way, this has always been about what Davey wanted.

So I was content to just hold it there. Hold my aching tip inside him, with
the heat of his sphincter surrounding me like a furnace. And Davey reached
down with one hand and stroked his little cock, and reached up with the
other hand and stroked my face.

"Yeah," he whispered with a smile on his lips. "Just hold it there. Just
like that. That's really, really nice."

And without another word, he gasped, he stiffened and he started to cum.

"Hurry," he said. "Cum in me. NOW!"

I moved just a little, Jess. Just a few, tiny back-and-fort movements,
maybe five, maybe six times, I don't know, just a slight jiggle of the tip,
and "UNNNNNNNNNNGGGHH! FUCK!!!!" I was cumming straight into his tight
little asshole, so tight, so good, but so shallow, my cum was already
bubbling out around the seal of my cockhead and spilling down onto his
blanket. I was alive with fireworks, shooting wads of pent-up, horny cum --
gotta fuck him, gotta fuck him, I thought -- but no, I just held it there
steady and came buckets up his backside. Not daring to move another
centimeter.

He didn't care. His head was tipped back and his smile was euphoric.

"Oh yes," he whispered. "Your cum is inside me, your cum is inside me!"

I wanted to push harder, Jess. Wanted to stick it in far and cum in him
properly, but I didn't dare move. I just sat there stupidly, letting the
cum bubble out of my cock, ooze and glob into him, not daring to move again
for fear I'd lose my resolve and bury myself so far inside him I'd hurt
him. I had to stay still, Jess. I didn't dare move. Orgasmic, shaking, I
didn't dare move. That cum was actually painful for me. Wild, necessary,
shaking, erupting, but painful.

Davey stopped shaking. His little hard nail shot out two drops of boy
honey. He wiped them off his tummy with his forefinger. He opened his eyes
finally and smiled at me.

"Wanna eat my jizz juice?" he giggled.

I had tears in my eyes.

He looked puzzled.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because you're so beautiful," I whispered back. I felt my cockhead pop out
of him and felt some of my own cum ooze out with it. He looked at me like
an angel. Like innocence. Like perfection. I looked at him through
water-wet eyes and felt tears course down my cheeks, I loved him so much.

"You don't have to cry," he shrugged. "I'll still be this pretty tomorrow."

I laughed. Sobbed. Pulled him up and held him to me.

I think that confused him, being held like that.

He was trying to be funny. "Wanna eat my jizz juice?"

And instead, from somewhere deep inside of me, an emotion I can't even
articulate welled up and spilled over into his young life, Jess. Into his
silly little romp in the woods, I fell in love with him. And who in the
world would have expected that?

It wasn't just pervy-silly game stuff anymore, Jess. What I felt for Davey
when I locked my cockhead into his grease-slippery anus and came inside him
the first time that day – that felt like pure, impossible love.

I held him there in the woods, naked on a blanket, barefoot and bare. I
looked at him. Took his chin in my hand. Turned his face upward and kissed
him.

"I guess it got serious, huh?" he said to me.

"Yeah," I laughed. "A little bit there for a minute. Sorry."

"That's okay," he said, reaching down and turning the vibrator
off. "Serious is okay, too."

"Wanna stay over at my house sometime, Davey?" I asked him.

He looked up. Eyes darted up in pleasure? Fear? Surprise?

"You could tell your folks you're staying with a friend."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. Lost in the possibility. Wandering
trepidation.

"Would we have to – you know – put your cock all the way inside me?"

He was still worried about the butt sex.

"We can do whatever you want," I told him honestly. "We can do THIS," I
touched his asshole with my fingertip, just slightly, still sticky, still
dripping, and pushed just the tip inside to reiterate my ability to reign
it in. "Or put more in, or less in, or whatever you need. Fuck, Davey. We
can just sleep if you want to. That's okay too."

He nodded slowly.

"I just want to give you whatever you need, okay, Davey?  You make the
rules. I just want to be good to you, and you tell me how much you
need. That's all it ever has to be."

"Okay," he nodded simply, like his whole youth depended on it. And in a
way, it did. You know that, Jess. You know how quickly boys turn into
grown-ups when a man's hard cock is involved. We don't mean to make them
that way with our cocks. It's the last thing we want. But we do.

"Okay," he smiled. "I'll sleep over."

Signed, sealed, delivered, pronounced. "I'll sleep over." And that's all it
took. The three words that changed my life.

But that, dear Jess, is my story for next time. Because he did sleep
over. And I'm already reeling from what happened. But I'll save that for
next time. For right now, I'll just leave you with the soft, pretty picture
of me and Davey in the woods that day. The day I discovered him naked and
moaning, pleasuring himself and being a boy.

The day I discovered I was already in love with him.

Until next time, Jess, sleep tight. Know that I love you. Remember our
first time, you and I, and remember I will always love you like life
itself. The way I love Davey. Like I love my little Memphis Boy.

More soon.

Love,
Zee

# # # # # # # # # #

CHAPTER 4. "A TREAT FOR HIS FEET"

# # # # # # # # # #

Dear Jess,

Again, you have my apologies. It's been so damn long between emails. It's
frustrating trying to catch up and tell you what's going on between the mad
dash of living it all. Life keeps me busy. Work keeps me busy. Davey keeps
me REALLY busy. Oh fuck, Jess. You have no earthly idea.

Where did we leave off last time? Me in the woods? Discovering Davey bare
naked, pushing that slim, 5-inch eggshell vibrator in and out of his ass
like it was the last candlestick on earth and he was in charge of keeping
the fire going?

How I put the tip of my dick in his ass – just my cockhead – and
cried after I came? After I filled him with that shaking,
shallow-but-explosive cum? How I looked at him in all his beauty, Jess,
lying on a blanket, naked in the woods, and surprising even myself,
involuntarily wept, because I understood right then and there I was falling
hopelessly in love with him and I had to have more. More than just this
pervy, erotic, messing-around, whatever-it-was.

How I needed to love him, Jess. To hold him. To take him in my arms and be
with him all night long. How I needed him so much, I went for broke and
asked him to come to me.

"Wanna stay over at my house sometime, Davey?"

He looked up. Eyes darted up in what? Pleasure? Fear? Surprise?

"You could tell your folks you're staying with a friend."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. Lost in the possibility. Wandering
trepidation.

"Would we have to – you know – put your cock all the way inside me?"

He was still worried about the butt sex. Even after I tipped him, Jess, he
still didn't want it all the way inside him. Like that was the bridge he
just couldn't cross.

"We can do whatever you want," I told him honestly. "We can do THIS," I
touched his asshole with my fingertip, just slightly, still sticky, still
dripping with my semen, and pushed just the tiniest fingertip inside to
reiterate my ability to reign it in. "Or we can put more in, or less in, or
whatever you need. Fuck, Davey. We can just sleep if you want to. That's
okay too."

He nodded slowly.

"I just want to give you whatever you need, okay, Davey?  You make the
rules. I just want to be good to you, and you tell me how much you
need. That's all it ever has to be."

"Okay," he nodded simply, like his whole youth depended on it. And in a
way, it did. You know that, Jess. You know how quickly boys turn into
grown-ups when a man's hard cock is involved. We don't mean to make them
that way with our cocks. It's the last thing we want. But we do.

"Okay," he smiled. "I'll sleep over."

Signed, sealed, delivered, pronounced. "I'll sleep over."

And that's all it took. The three words that changed my life.

# # # # # # # # # #

We talked a lot that first time he stayed overnight at my house,
Jess. Since anal sex was off the table – more on his reasons in a minute
– we wound up talking a lot – and kissing, and sucking, and fingering
and swallowing each other's semen – just about everything but the big
enchilada – but that was okay.

He showed up at five, still sweaty and hot, wearing his uniform from
football practice. Number 40. Green Bay Packers. Cute as a fucking button
and sweaty in all the right places.

He'd told his parents he was staying over at his friend Wagner's
house. They didn't bat an eye. Didn't even question it. We had all night.

The fact that I didn't fuck him that night – not fully, not up the ass
anyway – was on one hand, disappointing, and on one hand perfectly
fine. Because you know me, Jess. When life hands me lemons, let's crank out
the lemonade stand, baby. I've got plenty of places I can go. Not jumping
into his ass that first night truly let me introduce Davey into what you
already know is near and dear to my heart – the kind of major league,
cock-dripping, cum-drenching stuff I did with you, Jess, all those
beautiful barefoot years ago.

# # # # # # # # # #

Did you know, dear Jess, for the sake of curiosity, there's a whole
Wikipedia article on pre-cum? I'm not kidding. Look it up yourself. It's
listed under the word "pre-ejaculate." And if you look it up, there's a
beautiful close-up picture of a medium-sized pretty erection (it could be a
kid's if you use your imagination) leaking a long sweet bead of
crystal-clear pre-cum right out of the piss slit and drizzling down to just
a hair's breadth away from the pink-red crown of the pretty acorn
cocktip. It stops just a centimeter before it jumps the tip and drizzles
down to the shaft.

I mention it only because that's the kind of pre-cum I always leaked when I
saw your feet, Jess. Or anytime I saw any part of your beautiful naked
body. I looked at your soft, hairless skin, your tiny, tight tummy, your
bare pubis, your sweet hairless V, your soaring arches, your rounded soles,
and I just started to drip clear pre-cum in spite of myself. There was
nothing I could do to control it, you turned me on like a faucet.

I remember so many nights straddling your tiny body, using my pre-cum
dripping cock to actually paint you, Jess. I'd paint your pretty
cheeks. I'd certainly paint your lips, and I remember the way you smiled as
you licked it off like a salty treat. Do you even understand how hot it was
for me back then to move down to your hairless tummy and leave snail trails
of pre-cum all over your flawless skin? Working my way down through your
thighs, your kneecaps, your ankles, your perfect, perfect boy feet.

You were an ace at taking a full ejaculate, Jess. Your uncle had you well
trained in that regard. I knew damn well I could cum in your mouth and
you'd gobble it up like a champ. Nobody had to teach you how to
swallow. And it goes without saying, I deposited plenty of bareback loads
deep inside the First National Bank of Jess. But plenty of other times, I
was just perfectly content to paint you with my pre-cum. To coat that
pretty face. To wipe it over the round, sweet baby bumps of your pretty
copper titties. To watch it fill your little innie belly button.

And the jizz load itself? You loved it from the start, Jess. I remember you
saying something once – you couldn't have been more than 12 when you
said it – I remember you saying you wanted me to show you exactly how
much sperm I was shooting deep inside your butt or in your mouth by
shooting it all over your feet.

And fuck, Jess, that was so hot to me, you asking for a creamy load on your
feet like that -- you'd never directly asked me for it like that before, in
that way that I loved so much -- I must have shot twice my usual amount,
all over the soles of your feet, dribbling down through the cracks of your
toes, and then watching you bend your legs, fascinated, watching it drip
down your ankles and legs in a bizarre contorted self-examination,
whispering "wow" in hushed tones, amazed by the amount of it all.

You could FEEL how much I shot in your mouth, Jess. You could taste it,
feel it puffing your cheeks out, but you couldn't see it, because you were
a good boy, and down you swallowed it. Your uncle taught you very well, and
you swallowed every last drop. You never spilled an atom. But sometimes you
needed to see it too. Or sometimes I'd tell you NOT to swallow, because I
just wanted to love you, Jess, and have you come in close to me for spermy
kisses with your tiny tongue. I really liked those. And you did too. Not
only did I love you, Jess. I loved the way you had so much wild, free,
curious fun with my cum and my pre-cum. On your face, your chest, your
tummy and your toes. In your mouth, passing it back into mine.

It still drives me wild to close my eyes and imagine my thick semen running
from your toes to your soles to your ankles to your legs that first time,
and you bending up effortlessly like the top kid in yoga class, back
arched, head jutting up to see it, your little cock hard, your eyes wide
open, watching it dribble down your flawless skin, and quietly whispering,
"wow."

# # # # # # # # # #

So honestly Jess, that first time Davey stayed over at my house, for
starters, we just talked. We talked about what we'd done so far, and he
tried to help me understand him better. His needs and his fears.

There he was, on my couch, looking nervous as hell, sipping the Coke I
poured for him. I'd offered to spike it with a little rum like I always did
for you, Jess. You know. Just sort of loosen inhibitions and relax him a
little, but Great Guardian of His Ass that he was, he looked at me
frightened, he blushed and said no.

He looked up nervously, wanting to talk to me but not really knowing where
to start.

"I almost didn't come over here tonight," he admitted.

"Why not?" I asked, but I already knew.

"Because I know you want to you-know-what with me," he shrugged. "You
know. Stranger Danger me in my butt."

I smiled at him as reassuringly as I could muster, blue balls
notwithstanding.

"I already sort of did," I reminded him. "I'm not a stranger anymore when
it's already been inside you."

"Just the tip," he countered quickly. "Not the whole thing. The whole
cock's a lot longer."

Potato, potahto. This kid was driving me crazy with lust!

"I really can't argue with you there, Davey," I admitted frankly. "I'd like
to put the whole long thing in you a LOT. But if you say it's no, then no
is the answer."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm just kinda scared of that part. You know. Having
something way up in there."

"The thing is, Davey, you're already kind of good at it," I echoed. "You
know. Having something way up in there."

He smiled to himself. Looked down. Blushed a little. He knew I was right.

"I mean, you already put your fingers way up in there. And your brother's
vibrator. And what else? Anything else go way up in there?"

"Zucchini," he confessed. "Cucumbers. Candles. Pretty long ones."

"So why not a cock?" I asked, pleading the obvious, which was, believe me
Jess, already growing in my pants and looking for a parking place. "It'll
feel a whole lot nicer and more relaxing than a candle. Plus there's a
creamy white surprise at the end."

He giggled. He reached out and squeezed my dick. His little hand made me
shiver.

"I do kinda want a cock way up in there," he looked at it eagerly.

"Then why not try one?" I shrugged, rubbing mine through my pants. "I think
you'd be pretty good at it."

"Probably," he admitted with no false modesty. "It's just, well, you
know. The first one way up in there I kinda thought would be from a
sixth-grader. Not from a man."

Wouldn't be the first time I was foiled by an age span.

"Same principle," I smiled. "Just a little thicker."

"A lot thicker," he smiled back. "I've seen yours. I've had it all in my
mouth. It's really big."

"Well," I said, laying the matter to rest. "It's going way up inside you
sometime, Sport. It doesn't have to be tonight, but it's going way up in
there sometime. That I can promise you."

Sometimes a boy needs to be reminded he's still the boy.

Davey gulped. Sipped his Coke. Blushed beet red.

I looked down at his football pants and his skinny little spike was as hard
as a rock.

He was scared, maybe. But no question about it, Jess.

Davey wanted to get fucked.

# # # # # # # # # #

Jess, did I ever tell you about the first man who sucked me off when I was
a kid? His name was Artie, and he ran the local video arcade. Of course,
back in my day it was all still Pac Man and Space Invaders and Centipede
and Galaga, not the crazy shit they have today.

But for the right smile if the night was slow, Artie would flip a few
switches on the back of the machines and you could play all you wanted for
free – fuck the quarters – Artie would let you play those things for
free as long as you let him smile at you, and stand close, sometimes right
up behind you as you stood there playing, saying he was helping you line up
your shot, but really, he was just using it as an excuse to press his hard
cock into your tight-clad little jeans-ass. Artie liked him some boys,
Jess, and all the boys knew it.

The first time Artie sucked me, we were in the back room, and he'd flipped
the closed sign on the door twenty minutes early because we both knew damn
well he was going to suck my cock that night. Nobody else was in there and
you could see that hot blowjob coming down the tracks like a freight train.

In a way, I was just like Davey back then. Full of dirty thoughts, but
scared to be gay. Like Davey, I couldn't even say the word. And
ridiculously, as Artie was already dropping to his knees, unzipping my fly,
and dragging my hard cocklet out, all I could whisper was, "Please don't
tell my mom. Oh God, Oh God, whatever you do, don't tell my mom or my dad,"
which is laughable now – me begging HIM not to tell my parents -- but
back then I was dead serious. Back then it made perfect sense. I was the
gay one. I was the bad one.

"It's okay, baby," Artie whispered. "It'll all be fine. Nobody will ever
know.

I was 12-years-old, Jess, and I didn't have a clue what was going on in my
brain. Or in my hard little cock. I just knew I wasn't like the other boys
in my 6th grade class. They were always perving on the girls.  But while
they were doing that, I was busy perving on THEM. Or at the boys at Little
League. Fuck I loved their jocks. Their cups. Just the shape of what they
had in their pants. It perplexed me. Delighted me.

Like Davey, I was scared to let a man do this to me, Jess. Honestly
scared. I thought I only liked boys. But as Artie dropped to his knees and
sucked my hard 3.5 inches into his mouth, making me hiss in electric shock,
it reminded me in an instant that I looked at MEN too. Starting with the
college boys in our town. Holy fuck, wearing their sexy flip flops and
ass-tight shorts all over? Oh fuck yes, I stared at their packages. I was a
big fan of the local college team, Jess. And not for academic or athletic
reasons.

God they had some cocks. Holy Fuck, Jess, what was behind those zippers?
Why were they so big? Were they wearing cups like we had to in Little
League? Artie sucked me and my moaning mind danced with the men I'd
baby-cruised. Not only the college boys, but every man I saw. Construction
workers. Daddies at the mall. Their packages were so big, Jess. So
enticingly big, and I didn't even understand what I was looking at. Were
they dicks? Balls? Cups? Who wears a cup inside jeans? (Umm, Zee, sweetie -
that's not a cup).

Artie sucked me and I shucked off my pants. I wanted them down. I wanted
them off. I grabbed the back of his head and let him suck my throbbing
cocklet. I pushed up against him and pawed at his hair, and I stuck it in
and out of his mouth, and I knew I was going to cum. And I was
embarrassed. I wanted to warn him.

"Stop," I begged him in a hoarse whisper. "If you keep doing that, I'm
going to get tingly. I'm going to squirt my juice!"

He moaned. Sucked me even harder. His mouth was a blur and a vacuum.

I didn't understand why he'd want me to squirt it in his mouth. I was so
naοve.

I was shocked that he swallowed it that first time. I knew when he'd
unzipped me he'd lapped up my pre-honey like it was his last meal on
earth. And of course, I'd tasted by own juice on many occasions. But I
didn't know SOMEONE ELSE would want to have it inside their mouth. Inside
their tummy. Artie was the one who showed me that it was okay to eat that
stuff.

When I blasted off in his mouth, he grabbed my ass so hard and pulled me
into his mouth, simultaneously spreading my ass cheeks and gulping me like
raw hunger itself, that I finally got it, Jess. I finally understood
it. This was nothing to be embarrassed about, this white liquid squirting
out of the end of my hard little dick and into somebody's mouth. This was
not an error or a blushing overstep. This was the whole POINT of it. This
was the GOAL! This was the stuff that men liked to eat. It was okay to eat
it! To like it! To crave it! Talk about an epiphany, shooting off that
first time into Artie's Hoover-of-a-mouth.

And I remember, Jess, after I got my shivers inside Artie's mouth, he
kissed me afterward. Forceful, but soft. So much tongue. He shoved his
tongue inside my mouth, way deep. I could taste my own cum in his kisses, a
familiar flavor. And then he sucked me again. He put my whole 3.5 inch boy
boner in his mouth and actually touched his upper lip against my skin. I
was really surprised he got my balls inside his mouth too. His lower lip
actually touched my taint. That's what Davey called it, remember that,
Jess? "Tyler Tucker touched my taint?" Or whoever that fucking kid was?
Once you get your taint touched by your first man, Jess, there ain't no
coming back.

God it felt good when Artie touched that skin between my ass and my balls
with his hot lower lip. When he released my cock and went down lower and
lapped it with his tongue. When he turned me around, pushed me up against
the wall, and grunting, spread my ass apart and licked my hole like the
Fourth of July. I saw stars. I saw fireworks. I saw Christ and the Virgin
Mary on a water stain on the ceiling.

It felt so good when he did that, Jess. I'd never felt so good in my
life. He ate my ass. My dick was rock hard. I wanted him to fuck me. I
wanted him to fuck me so hard I begged him for it. But he said we should
wait. He wanted to, but he didn't want to hurt me. Didn't trust himself to
be gentle enough. So we waited that night. And we waited for a long time,
Jess. For two more years.

But he fingered me deep that night. He fingered and tongued me.

A finger fuck like I'd done for Davey. Fingers and tongues. No cock inside
me, but fingers and tongues. The sweet ass taste of fingers and
tongue. Story of my life, Jess. Always needing more and never quite enough.

Story of my life.

I should write it all down and post it online.

# # # # # # # # # #

So, that's where we were, Jess.

Davey and me.

He was new, and scared, and turned-on, and eager, and hesitant-as-hell, all
at once.

He was already well on his way to going down the path, Jess. It wasn't me
who was going to turn this kid gay. He'd already rolled those dice long
before I arrived on the scene. And then the first time I met him in that
bathroom stall and took that little Nerf Dart of his into my mouth, all
bets were off. This kid was going to be gayer than Gay Gayerson. And I'd
eventually get my cock "way up in him," Jess, I just had to let him get
used to the inevitability of it and come to it patiently, in his own time,
in his own way.

"I do kinda want a cock way up in there," he'd said to me shyly. And truth
was, he really did. He'd just assumed it would be with a fellow sixth
grader. Or hell, maybe even a fifth grader. I'm sure there were some pretty
fucking cute fifth grade boys at his school. But I bet he never would have
guessed in million years that his first cock would be a grown man's. Not
many of us see that one coming, do we Jess? That first man cock surprises
the life out of us, baby. And that's a fact.

But like Artie and me – like you and your uncle – like me fucking you
back when you were a boy – I hoped there would be something oddly
comforting for Davey when he finally did give his full cherry to me.  I
mean, after all, there are no awkward fumblings when your first time's with
a man. No rush, no surprises, no "ouch, too fast." A man knows exactly what
he needs to do. Especially if he was a loved boy himself once upon a
time. He knows he has a duty to make a boy more comfortable.

That's what I wanted his first time to be with me Jess. Not scary. Not
Stranger Danger. Just comfortable. Something he'd remember all his life
with passion and pride, not shame.

I didn't want to fuck him, Jess. I wanted to make love to him.

# # # # # # # # # #

He came to me in my bedroom, Jess, with nothing but my nightlight and a
moonlit window to illuminate his beauty. He did have that rum and coke
first, and I made it a tall one. A double shot to make him tingly. Relaxed
and buzzing. Not for any ulterior "fuck him faster" motive. Just to make
him less scared of this brand new night in general. This was a big thing; a
boy's first sleepover with a man.

I undressed him slowly, kissing every soft inch on my way down. Creamy
hairless skin that tasted salty and sweet on my tongue. He tasted like
boy. He tasted like football practice. He was warm and salty and wild on my
tongue. He moaned when I licked him. He sighed, excited. Nervous. He was
hard. He was shaking.

He helped undress me too. Slowly, he helped me take my clothes off. And I
thought how special this must be for him. The very first time he undressed
a man. Slowly. Respectfully. Only 12, but understanding the enormity of
what he was doing. The bridge he was about to cross. He sucked in his
breath when my hard cock sprang free and he realized again how unlike his
it was. How unlike a boy's. His little hand circled it and he sucked-in
air. Dabbed the sticky pre-cum off the tip. Pulled it like a strand. Stuck
it in his mouth from his fingertip and swallowed.

I took him in my arms, laid him down on the bed, wrapped myself up in his
beauty and softness and kissed him with hunger. Time fell off the clock. I
have no idea how long I kissed him, Jess. We were barely aware of our own
mutual moaning. His little hard spike ground against me. My harder spike
pushed into his naked tummy. My hands reached around to cup his ass. To
part his cheeks. To prod for his hole with an eager, firm finger.

"Don't," he whined. "You promised no butt stuff."

"Please," I moaned. "Please let me just try. I'll go so slow. I swear I
will."

"Don't," he said, and he started to cry. "I'm not clean back there. I got
scared today. I had the runs at school. I'm not clean. It's not ready."

He broke down sobbing, ashamed and embarrassed.

"Oh, Davey," I whispered, holding him to my chest and petting him and
soothing him. "I'm sorry. It's okay. Shhh. Don't worry. We don't have to do
that part. Don't be embarassed, baby. It's no big deal. Really, it's
not. We won't do that part at all."

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I really wanted to. I just got so scared today it
made me sick."

He was really crying, embarrassed.

"Shhhh," I held him. Poor kid. Poor goofy angel.

"I feel stupid. I feel like such a baby."

"You're not a baby," I assured him. "You're a beautiful, sexy boy. I just
want you to feel good tonight and not worry so much. Everything will happen
when it happens, okay? It's okay. There's no race for anything, baby."

He melted into my chest. I could feel his tension melt away, trusting me.

"There's a lot we can do," I whispered in his ear, and he
whimpered. "There's a lot we can do without touching your butt at all. Lots
of good stuff."

"Okay," he sniffled.

"Can I show you?" I whispered.

"Okay," he sniffled again.

And he looked up at me with complete trust and wonder, Jess. Trust and
tenderness and sweet, pure belief.

I sat up. I sat alongside him as he laid on his back in my bed, looking up
at me with his wide, wet eyes. I slowly ran my hands down his legs,
stopping when I got to his beautiful feet. They were soft and flawless,
Jess. Arches and art and sexy, sweet soles. Like the first time I did it to
you, Jess...I wanted this memory to be something that would stay with Davey
forever.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Why do you like my feet so much?" you asked me once when I was fucking
you, Jess. I was holding your legs up in the air. Holding your feet like
two handlebars. Fucking you on your back while I tenderly sucked your
perfect toes. Slobbered on your soles. Kissed your ankles. Licked your
arches from the center to the top. My cock was sliding in and out of your
perfect hole. I could smell our sex, and my mouth was loving your beautiful
feet.

Why did your feet turn me on so much, Jess? Why did I like them?

You might as well ask someone why is the sky blue? Why is there air?

I don't know why I loved them. Because Artie loved mine? Because it was
something I'd always done from the very first night he took me into his
bed, at 15, and fucked me? Did he pass it on, like a beautiful curse? Like
a blessing in the night?

I have no idea why I loved your feet so much, Jess. But I did, you know.

I loved them because they were YOU, Jess. They were the part of you that
represented freedom and boyishness and purity and perfection. Soft and
uncalloused, with a whole promising lifetime ahead. Growing. Long. Just
slighty too big, marking that change from boyhood to teen, from teen to
man, from innocent to fucked. Feet are a promise, Jess. The foundation of
what a boy will turn out to be. Chronologically and sexually. Feet are
where his path begins.

I need them, Jess. I need to make them part of me.

Who can understand anybody's fetish, really, right? Why do some guys like
scat stories and handcuffs? Glory holes and cock rings. It is what it is,
Jess. We all march to the tune of a different drummer.

Why do some people like ice cream instead of cake? Cinnamon instead of
peppermint? Blue instead of green?

You love what you love. That's all I can say.

And finding feet sexy? You either do or you don't. And it's okay if you
don't. That's perfectly fine. I don't have to try to talk anybody into
it. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing. I get that. I'm not out
recruiting. But for those of us who do find our God in the soles of a boy's
perfect feet, there are no shades of gray, Jess. We are always on. We see a
boy in flip-flops, and we're always ready. We see him in tennies and
imagine what's underneath. We imagine holding his feet in our
hands. Touching them. Massaging them. Running our lips and fingers against
their heat and their softeness. They're perfection and grace to us,
Jess. They're everything holy. We can't be without them.

I've understood that about myself for a long time now, Jess. They're
something I need to feel sexually complete. Fulfilled and satisfied. They
satiate me. Calm a craving so deep inside me I can't even name it, but it's
like a comfortable old friend, always there. Always yearning.

Some men will look at a boy's feet and say, "Great. Feet. He has two of
them. They're pretty. Now let's spread that ass apart and get to the part
of him I really want to visit." And that's fine, Jess. I have more than one
friend who will nod and smile with a patient pat on the head when I go off
on my random footnotes, some will even pry respectfully, a few will bravely
attempt to join in. Most will nod and smile with a passing respect for the
beauty of a boy and his feet. Why not. All parts of a boy are beautiful,
Jess, and his feet are just part of the picture. But I must admit, it's
rare when I meet someone with a full-on need for them that matches mine. A
hunger that's so very hard to explain, much less make internal sense
of. Those special friends have been few and far between.

For people like me, Jess, and you know this better than anyone, seeing a
boy in his barefoot glory is a moment that borders on euphoria. It's more
than an interest. A fetish. Ejaculation. It's where heaven is, Jess. It's
soul food. Religion.

To me, the bare naked foot of a beautiful boy is sex incarnate. Open and
innocent, breathtaking and perfect, there can be nothing better. No better
painting on the wall. No better art in the museum. The arch of a boy's
foot, Jess, bared to me like a trusting offering of love, takes me to a
place I can barely describe to those who only go there in passing. To them,
it's a curiosity. A funny. A fetish. A stop along the way. To me, it's
where I live. It's my music. It's home.

# # # # # # # # # #

Davey looked up at me, Jess. His eyes were wide and trusting.

"What are you going to do to me," he asked simply. "Will it tickle? Will I
like it."

"Both I think," I answered him simply. "First it might tickle. Then you
might like it. Then you might, really, REALLY like it."

"Okay," he smiled. "Let's go. Right now."

He smiled at me, my Memphis Boy.

Say what you want about that frustrating chastity belt on my cock and his
rectum, but in all other areas, man, was that kid game.

Davey took "show me" to a whole new level.

# # # # # # # # # #

You asked me once when you were little, Jess, "What do you like better for
foot sex, Zee? Giving it or giving it?"

And I laughed and said, "Foot sex?" because I never really thought of it in
the term that you used. But I suppose you were right, Jess. That's not fair
from the mark. Because that's really what it is, isn't it? I mean, you're
doing some of the same things you'd do to a cock or an ass. Touching,
feeling, caressing, licking, sucking. Rubbing them with your cock
eventually. When I'm smearing a boy's arch with my pre-cum, rubbing along
its softness, it really is sex, isn't it? Just raw, beautiful sex. Maybe
even ejaculating on it Then eating it. And maybe feeding some of my load to
him, right off his own foot, like I did to you.

I've actually thought about the question in detail, Jess. To be or not to
be. To give or receive. To have-done, or dole-out. Hmmm, I guess I'd
probably place the percentage of me wanting to give instead of get at about
70-30.

That's largely due to the pure, aesthetic beauty of boyfeet. I just find
them so exhilaratingly sexy, I'd be a bit greedy in this regard. With
someone like Davey, I'd be the one to instigate things, as I know
first-hand how good it feels. As I've experienced with other boys – and
certainly with you, Jess – getting my toes sucked can literally induce a
massive, leaking erection.

If we were to become regular lovers, Davey and I, then I'd hope the
remaining 30% would come into play.  I'm sure Davey would quickly discover
how good it feels to receive foot love, and maybe he'd want to give it back
in kind (although I wouldn't necessarily expect it).

I guess it's similar to a blowjob. I mean, do you really want to engulf
that fleshy sausage with your mouth? Hell yes, you do. You realize how good
it feels to have it done to you. It's only natural you'd want to please
your partner in the same fashion.

If you'd ask me that night, what did I want to do to Davey's feet as he lay
there naked and trusting in my bed? Watching me hold up his ankles and
wondering what came next?

You name it, Jess. What didn't I want to do?

I wanted to look, examine, admire, gaze.

I wanted to use my fingers to touch, feel, caress, tickle.

I wanted to make him happy.

I wanted to rub my nose down there, smelling soap or lotion or sock smell
or the athleticism of his sneakers. The beauty of a naked boy after
football practice.

A bit of sweat would be good, but any putridity would have to be gently
washed off. As it was, there was no need to worry. Davey smelled
perfect. The rubber-leather smell of tennies and cleats - mixed with
outdoors, mixed with boy. Just perfect.

Eventually I'd put my mouth and tongue to proper use. Just like I did to
you when you were a boy, Jess, there would be A LOT of licking and
sucking. Those are the factors which induce the truly erotic feelings on
the part of the boy. Those are the factors that induce stiffies. The oral
component of foot worship is what truly makes it so magical.

And as I'm sure you well remember from long nights of me playing with your
little piggies in every sense of the word, there is definitely plenty of
room for cock-on-foot play. Smearing your pre-cum along a soft, smooth arch
or instep can be exhilarating. Mashing his soles together and actually
fucking his feet is another wonderful possibility. Eventually ejaculating
upon them, particularly all over his toes, literally coating them with
jizz, is the ultimate prize.

And as for Davey learning and returning the favor like you did? Oh God,
Jess, that would be a dream come true.

I remember so well the way you were at 12, with your skinny, undersized
fingers playing with my feet. That was incredible. You knew how to give a
foot massage right away, Jess. But then once you got used to the rest of
it? Knowing it felt good and wanting to give back? That was heaven,
Jess. And I know I said thank you, but thank you again.

Being able to feel your undersized mouth and tongue as you licked my soles
and sucked my toes made me cum, hands-free. Seeing your soft, pretty face
down there, so focused, working so hard to please me was so satisfying,
Jess. So erotic. Realizing that you learned everything you knew about foot
play from me? Wow, Jess. It was gratifying beyond words. It was like
passing along a secret gift. Thank you, Artie. Thank you, Zee. Thank you,
Jess. Thank you, Davey. Like handing down the family Bible.

And fucking you while I loved your feet? Oh God, Jess. I could cum just
thinking about it.

It was always missionary style when I fucked you and loved your
feet. Holding your legs up. Holding your heels. Lining my dick up with the
small pink button of your anus and slowly sliding it in. Long-dicking you
all the way until I made you groan and throw back your head, eyes rolled
back and mouth nearly drooling, putting your feet in my mouth or wherever I
wanted them, angling your sweet, tight ass for whatever percentage of
penetration I needed.

And I needed a lot, Jess. A lot. I needed to stick it way up inside and cum
deep inside you. And you were a brave boy to take it all, Jess. You were a
brave boy to let me.

I hoped that Davey would soon do the same.

# # # # # # # # # #

"What are you doing?" he giggled, as my fingertips traced across his
arches, teasing him and tickling him.

"I'm gonna make you feel good down here," I said to him simply.

"Oh boy," he giggled. "You're really gonna do it aren't you? All that foot
stuff."

I looked at him and his eyes were wide. Crinkled up,
smiling. Interested. Anticipatory. But probably thinking the whole thing
was silly. I hoped to change his mind.

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded, quietly smiling back. "I'm definitely going to do all
that foot stuff. How do you know?"

"Cause I see you looking at them all the time. And you were rubbing them
when we were sitting on the couch. You were touching them. And when I went
to the bathroom? When you thought I wasn't looking? You smelled my shoes. I
saw you do it."

"Guilty," I shrugged. "You caught me."

Little did he know as I stood their inhaling the scent of fresh leather and
boy, I wanted to do more than smell them. I wanted to masturbate into
them. I wanted to cum in them, knowing he'd walk around in my jizz load
later. I wanted more than his participation, Jess. I wanted to mark my
territory.

"Okay," he giggled. "Do some foot stuff to me."

Cute little cocktease. I'd do some foot stuff to him.

As long as my cock wasn't six-inches up his ass, he was willing to
patronize and tantalize me with anything else I could come up with. I
smiled gently, knowing exactly what I needed, but hoping by the time I was
done, Davey would be a believer too. I hope to turn his patient, pretty
patronizing into pleasure.

I've always said, Jess, the transformation from a patient doubter into a
full-fledged beliver is a magical process. And maybe I couldn't take him
all the way there – not during one sleepover -- but if I took my time,
just like I did with you, he'd eventually learn to crave it like I did --
like you did -- that impossibly wild, tickle-fuck feeling of getting his
toes sucked and his soles tongue-bathed -- where you'd probably laugh if
your cock wasn't so fucking hard you were fighting back rapture. Fighting
back weeping for the pure, sheer sexual hotness of it.

I started out by simply rubbing him. A simple foot massage that a friend
would give a friend. He relaxed and closed his eyes and a simple smile
formed on his pretty mouth, his thin lips red and soft in the light of the
windowed moon. He giggled at first. Giggled because it tickled. They always
do...giggle at first. You did, Jess. And so did I.

But when I slowly began to lick his soles, then to run my tongue against
his tops and his heels, I heard him whisper quietly, "Oh." It changed
then. Changed quickly

He said it again, "Oh!" and his eyes opened wide. Surprise at first, then
honest awe. I knew what he was feeling, Jess. Exactly what we felt. It was
ticklish, true, but mostly just good, surprisingly sexualized feelings. I
looked at his naked little cock and it was hard as a rock. A little spike,
betraying his more-than-casual interest in what I was teaching him...where
I was taking him this very first time.

Bringing his left foot up to my mouth, holding it to my lips – and I
could see the spread of his ass when I lifted it up – his sweet hole
tempting me like untouchable candy – I gently devoured the next best
thing. I took his toes inside my mouth, Jess, all of them. I put my toes
inside his mouth and closed my lips around them.

"Oh, wow," he whispered. "Oh wow, oh wow."

And no one was giggling now, Jess. Not me, not Davey, not for all the tea
in China.

My cock was hard and leaking, watching him react. His back arched upwards
as I sucked his big toe. I fellated it gently and watched his eyes change
from cloudy and confused to awake, wide-open and hungry. This was a new
feeling to him, Jess, this new hotness associated with THIS, and it was
blowing his little mind.

With closed eyes, I nursed on his feet, tasting salt and sweat and the
hard, sweet day of a boy. As I sucked on them gently, moving from one to
another then back again, my big hands massaged his coltish calves and ran
up to his thighs, small but athletic, toned and all-boy, feeling hot and
pliant in my hands. I shivered as I re-experienced the exotic joy of
rubbing and fondling such firm, warm, moveable little boy muscles.

His feet were already wet with the saliva from my mouth but my cock was
aching and I wanted more. I cupped my hand and held it to his mouth.

"Spit," I told him roughly.

"What?" he answered, looking puzzled.

"Spit in my hand," I repeated. "Give me your spit."

Understanding, he did. His lip pursed and a tiny dot of saliva passed from
his mouth into my palm.

"More," I told him firmly. "As much as you have."

Our eyes met and he drew up more spit. I saw his concentration. His tongue
and cheeks working inside his mouth. He pushed a bigger wad into my
hand. It was warm and bubbly. White and foamy. He did it again. And he did
it once more.

"Watch," I demanded, and his head craned forward.

Still holding his foot with my left hand, I brought his spit to the shaft
of my cock and I rubbed it all over myself, lubricating my length with
Davey's saliva. He moaned when I did it.

"Oh God," he whispered. "My spit's on your cock. That's dirty."

"Make it more dirty," I told him, cupping my hand out for more.

He did. He obeyed me.

"That's good. Oh yeah. That's slippery. That's good. I'm gonna rub my cock
all over your pretty feet now, Davey. Slide it in and out of your pretty
fuckin feet."

He shivered. Eyes wide. His dick was actually pulsing it went so hard.

And that's exactly what I did, Jess. I smeared my pre-cum right across his
soles. It felt so good, rubbing my sensitive slit across his baby soft skin
and watching my sticky-clear sap transfer to his feet in sticky-long
strings...hot spider strands of pleasure.

I watched his eyes light up like hungry fire when I rubbed my cock along
his feet. It was so big right then. So hard and stiff as I ran it along the
length of his arch. I'm sure it felt like steel to him. I'm sure it felt
intimidating. Like I wanted it to.

"Feel this," I growled at him, running it along his tender arches. "This is
what's going up your ass next time. WAY up inside."

He shuddered. Sucked in air.

This was all so new to him, Jess. This little boy who was no stranger to
erotica. The same boy who sat naked in the mall men's room with his finger
up his ass. The same boy who sat in the movie theater and fed me Twizzlers
from the very same boyhole, then denied me ultimate entrance. What I was
doing now was unchartered territory. This was a wide open question
mark. His feet were still so new to him, being used and controlled in this
context, he had no idea anyone would want to touch, caress, massage, or
lick and suck him there. But it felt so fucking good.

He was mystified, Jess, he was baffled, apprehensive. But he was quick to
convert. This just felt too good not to. To good. Too hot. Too naughty. My
hot, wet cock sliding back and forth between his arches was making him feel
good in a way he'd never felt before, and he had the cock-hardening pride
of knowing he was making me feel even better. What I was doing to him was
making his cute little dickie stiff as a nail. It was reaching skyward for
his hairless pubis. He was turned on not only because it felt good to HIM,
but because he knew he was responsible for making me need him this way. He
knew it turned ME on, too.

Trusting me completely, he leaned back and sighed, closed his eyes again,
and pushed his heel up against me, surrendering to where I was taking
him. Not only surrendering, Jess, but responding. Pushing. Starting to push
back hard. Squeezing my cock with his feet. Applying pressure. Massaging me
back.

I had Davey's feet together now and I was full-out foot fucking him along
his soles, pushing the head of my penis through the crack between his feet
on either side.

"Good boy," I whispered to him, my tone softening, proud of his eager
participation. "You're doing just fine, baby. You're making me feel so
good, Davey. Such a big boy. You're doing such a good, good job."

He moaned when I praised him and he reached for his little stiffy.

"Not yet," I told him, pushing his hand away gently. "Me first. Then you."

He closed his eyes and whimpered at the delay while I continued to fuck his
sweet pretty feet.

"Spit in my hand," I told him again, and cupped my palm under his tiny wet
lips, so he could spit again. Relube me. Refill me.

I coated my cock and pressed his feet tighter around me. It was exquisite,
Jess. Euphoria bordering on pain. On fireworks. On overload.

"Watch it shoot," I ordered him quietly. "Watch me cum all over your pretty
feet, Davey,"

And gritting my teeth, I squeezed his feet together tightly, pushed my
cockhead through the crack in between them, and with a grunt and a moan, I
fired my hot ejaculate all over his feet. His pads. His arches. It dripped
through his toes.

"Nnnnggh," I grunted, cumming hard, cumming long. Drenching him. I shot my
cum all over his sexy, pretty feet. Covered them hard in a pink and white
rainbow.

He gasped. He shuddered. He was stupefied by the volume of cum shooting out
of me. All over him, feeling hot, feeling slimy. His eyes were wide. His
breathing was erratic. Almost grossed-out. But no. More like mesmerized.

"Oh, wow," he whispered. "So much. There's so much!"

Not giving him time to take further inventory, I lifted his dripping foot
to my mouth and began sucking my cum off his toes.

"Oh God," he whispered as my tongue licked between his big and his
second. "Oh God, please Zee. Make me cum! Please!"

There was no more ticklishness, Jess. Just pure boy lust as I ate my cum
from the spaces between his toes and he pushed his dick up into the empty
air, begging me to give him release.

"No, baby. Not yet."

He whimpered. Whined at me, needing it.

Taking his other foot in my hand, I scooped up more of that copious load,
and pushing it up to his lips, growled simply, "eat it," and I pushed it in
and wiped it on his tongue as he moaned and sucked my finger and swallowed
it. I fed it to him, Jess. I wiped it from his sole and I pushed it into
his mouth, a fingerful at a time until his foot was clean.

Sucking the remainder of my cum from the other one, I held it on my tongue
and leaned into his mouth, pushing it inside his hungry lips, feeding him
the last of it through a wet, warm cum kiss and feeling his tiny tongue
dancing eagerly against mine. He was panting, Jess. Panting and kissing
back, as hard and as eagerly as a boy has ever kissed me. We ate my cum
together, Jess. Leaning over him, kissing him, we ate my cum together.

"Suck toe," he growled in my ear, and this time, he was giving the
orders. "Suck my big toe and get it really wet, you fucker."

I looked at him wide-eyed, pleased and intrigued. Puzzled, but zinging.

"Get it wet, you fucker, and sit criss-cross, down there." He nodded toward
his legs.

I did what he asked. I took his foot in my mouth again and slathered his
toe with a copious wad of cum-flavored spit. He moaned again as I sucked it
and made it wet for him. I did what he wanted. I let him call the shots.

"Criss cross," he growled, and I could tell he liked this. He liked giving
the orders. "And jack my cock now, you fucker."

He was making me hard again, talking dirty this way.

He spread his legs and I sat between them. "Indian Style," we called it in
my day. "Criss-Cross Applesauce" is the dumb, P.C. modern version.

But as soon as I did, his intention nearly stunned me. Stretching out his
perfect foot, along my cock, then down under my balls, I felt him reaching
for my hole with his toe.

"Oh, God," I moaned. "Oh fuck. Oh, Davey."

He grinned at me. "You want a foot fuck, fucker? I'll give you a foot
fuck."

I reached up and took his little nail between my thumb and my forefinger
and watched him smile as his toe pressed up against my taint, searching for
my asshole. He was rubbing it against my crack. Not polite. Digging at
me. Straining.

"Oh fuck," I whispered. Whatever point he was trying to prove, far be it
from me to stop him, Jess. Fucking far be it.

I slathered some spit in my own hand. Rubbed it on his toe. Rubbed it on my
ass. Readjusted my position. Took his toe. Lined it up. Looked him in the
eyes.

"Push it," I told him. "Push that toe as hard as you can."

Like a dart, it slid in me. Past the first sphincter. I hissed and I
gasped.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck."

"You like that?" he asked roughly, and I could see the pleased smile in his
eye, having me this way.

"I like it a lot," I gasped. "A lot."

"Have some more."

And he pushed it in harder.

Jabbing it roughly as far as he could, his beautiful big toe, so slender,
so baby-fat long, pierced through my second sphincter and made me lose my
mind. My God. My Lord, Jess. This kid was fucking me with his toe! Pushing,
God, hard, past my second sphincter, Christ, making me gasp as he stuck it
in my ass. Way up in my ass, Jess. As far as a boy can go.

Regaining my ability to think, I stroked his little cock. It was hard and
angry, begging for release. 3.5 inches of sweet, straining boy meat, ready
to blow, ready to shoot as he fucked my ass with his toe.

"Get up," he whispered. "Get up on your knees."

"Oh shit," I whispered. "Oh fuck. Oh Davey."

I did what he asked. I got on my hands and knees. Put my head down on the
bed. Closed my eyes. I was somewhere near senseless and halfway to heaven.

I heard him shuffle. I felt him come up behind me, and then suddenly, Jess,
my mind exploded into sparkling flakes of color as I felt his face, then
his lips, then his tongue, start to lick and taste and dart around my
asshole. Hesitant at first, unsure, full of trepidation, then firmer, more
confident, more demanding even, as his little hands spread my cheeks apart
and his mouth zeroed in to tongue my ass in a wildfire of feeling.

He ate me, Jess. This kinky little boy on his very first sleepover had the
gall, the audacity, the sweet blessed boy balls to order me up on my hands
and my knees, spread my as apart and lick me. Tongue me. Like he'd been
doing it all his life. He licked my hole, squeezed my cheeks, prodded me
with his tongue. Licked my taint. Liked by balls. God, I was going
wild. I'd eaten his sweet ass more than once already and I'm sure he knew
how good that felt to him, and if this was his way of returning the favor,
God Jess, I didn't ever want it to end. He licked me everywhere. He reached
around and grabbed my cock. I was rock hard and dripping. I don't know at
what point I came again, Jess. I can't even remember it starting to
happen. But suddenly there I was, shooting all over the blakets as Davey
went wild and ate my fucking ass and jacked me to a second explosive cum. I
hadn't cum this much, this fast, a second time, in ages, Jess. In ages. And
there I was, coming all over my bedspread.

It defied all experience for me, Jess. No boy had ever done this to me
before, not even you. Can you even imagine? A warm, wet, undersized boy
tongue, rolling along – no – dancing along, darting around, SLAMMING
around – in and out, soft, then curled, wide laps, then poking, eating
the inside and outside of my tingling ass like there was no tomorrow? It
was incredible, Jess. Intense, erotic, incredible, mind-blowingly good. It
didn't even compute in my mind as possible as it was happening. A
12-year-old boy rimming my ass, Jess. Doing it better than any man I'd ever
been with, ever. And I fucking came, Jess. Came while he ate me and stroked
my spasming cock shaft.

I didn't know what was going to happen next. Would he line his little dick
up and fuck me? Would it even go in? Would he know where to put it and
could he keep it inside me long enough to cum? He must be going crazy by
now, delaying his cum so long! Was he going to stick his little cock up my
ass and pump me hard until he got his shivers?

I moaned anticipating just that, but apparently that wasn't in the cards.

"Suck me," he whimpered, and he was all little boy again. "Please,
pleeeeease...just make me cum...pleeeease."

There was so much pleading in that word, Jess. Like, "I've done everything
you wanted me to. Even more than you asked me. I even did THAT. Now please,
please, pleeeease just make me cum."

I owed him this one, Jess. Owed it to him big time.

"Please just make me cum," he whimpered again, raising his mouth from my
ass, which was now sticky with his spit and effort. I pulled him up and
kissed him hard, tasting my own ass on his lips. Sharing the scent of me,
Ass and tongue and boy and man. All those flavors blowing kisses in the
midst of us.

I pushed him back on the bed. My mouth engulfed his stick in a second. I
suctioned him hard, taking his whole dick and balls in my mouth. He
moaned. Nearly screamed in passion. Spread his legs apart. Grabbed my head
and pulled he down roughly. Spitting on my finger, I pushed it into his
ass. Pushed it deeply. I didn't even try to go slow.

He groaned. Pushed back against it. Wanting it deeper. Not caring how clean
he was down there anymore. It was the farthest thing from his mind.

Shaking, quivering, it didn't take him long. He'd been on the edge forever,
Jess. He had to shoot off now. He just had to.

Grinding his tight hot ass against the digging of my forefinger, rubbing
his tiny prostate nut up against my fingertip, he clenched my head between
his tiny hands, pulled my hair, groaned and gasped, and like trembling
electricity shot in my mouth and cried out my name.

"ZEEEEEEEE!" he yelled. "Ungggggghhh! It's shooting!"

His boy honey shot out onto my tongue. Two hot pulses of sugar-sweet boy
cum. His ass grasped and pulsed and constricted around my finger, so hard
it actually hurt. It actually nipped.

He ground his sweet, sweaty pubis up against my mouth. Shivered and
whimpered. Sprayed my tongue with another small droplet. Fuck, he tasted
good. The best taste in the world.

Exhausted and sweaty -- I licked the sweat from the tip of his hairless
mound -- the tip of his V -- we collapsed there. Didn't say a word. My
mouth was still buzzing with his cum. My ass was still tingling with the
ghost echo of his rimjob. Like an amputee. Like a phantom limb.

I scooped him into my arms, and kissed him. He shivered.

"I'm cold," he said. "I'm shaky...and I'm cold."

And he was, Jess. He was trembling again.

"Oh baby," I said. "I'm sorry. Come closer."

He melted into me and I wrapped him in blankets. I held him close and I
wrapped him in blankets. Swaddled him, Jess. Like an angel. Like a baby.

And then his crying began.

I felt his tears start falling on my neck before I even heard him.

"Davey," I whispered. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Because it's not supposed to feel like this," he whispered, his chest
heaving softly.

"Like what, baby? What's not supposed to feel like this? I don't
understand."

"Like love," he cried softly. "It's not supposed to feel like I love you so
much. I'm not like this. I'm not gay."

"Oh, baby."

I pulled him to me even closer and I kissed his salty tears. Like an ocean,
they rolled across my quieting kisses.

"I wasn't sick," he sobbed. "I didn't have the runs down there. I just
don't want it in me all the way. Only I do want it in me all the way."

"Davey, slow down. I don't understand."

"I can't be gay! Don't you get it? I can't! And if I let you put your thing
in me all the way, then I will be gay! Then I'll be gay for sure and I
can't stop it after that. Then I can never go back."

He was sobbing now, Jess. Really sobbing. So much pain.

I held him there and I let him cry.

"But I want it!" he wailed, and his cry broke my heart. "Stupid, stupid,
stupid! Because I want it all inside me! And I want to feel like I love
you. I just don't want to be stupid, stupid GAY!"

And with that he broke down. Just plaintively keening. A sorrowful wail
that pierced me to my very soul.

"Shhh," I whispered as I stroked his sweaty hair. "You don't have to be
anything, Davey. Not gay. Not in love. Not anything."

He shook and sniffed. He didn't believe me.

Poor kid. The enormity of all of this, Jess.

Even brave Davey.

Shocking, kinky Davey.

He wasn't invincible after all. And this was absolutely enormous.

"It's okay, Davey," I promised him, and I meant every word. "Please don't
cry. Please don't worry about any of this right now."

I held him tighter and I kissed his tears.

"Whatever this is, it can be whatever you want it to be. It doesn't have to
be gay and it doesn't have to be love. Just close your eyes and feel safe
here, and don't worry about all that other stuff for now."

I felt him relax a little. Lose tension. Soften shoulders. Convinced or
exhausted, I did not know. But he was quieting, Jess. And I held him
tightly and stroked his beautiful hair.

"It'll all feel better in the morning, okay, baby? Just put it out of your
mind for now and let me hold you, okay? Just let me hold you and let you
feel safe tonight. Don't worry. I'll make it okay. Just sleep now,
baby. Shhhh. Get some sleep."

"Okay," he whispered, still crying quietly. Those hiccup sobs of a cry
running out. Still weighing in his mind the reality of what he was
becoming.

There's always a point, Jess, when a loved boy realizes it's not just
messing around anymore. When he understands he's become a loved boy.

It's a sometimes painful awakening, Jess. A new understanding. Of what he
was becoming. Of what he essentially was.

He knew he was gay now. And even though it scared him, he knew it's what he
needed to be. To be held like this? In the arms of a man? This is what his
life would be like now, Jess. From this moment on.

Not because he picked it. Because it just was.

"It's okay," I whispered quietly. "It's nothing to be scared of,
Davey. You'll see. Some of my best friend are gay."

He giggled and sniffled. He punched me in the chest.

"I'm stupid," he sniffled. "You think I'm a baby."

"I think you're an angel. I think that I love you."

I felt him melt into me, protected in my arms, and I held him tight and
wrapped him in my arms. My arms, my love and my life.

Whatever this was, whatever we were doing here, I'd make it okay. Whatever
my love, my need, my desire was turning Davey into, I owed it to him – I
OWED it to him, Jess – to make things right for this boy. To make it all
okay.

And when you're a grown-up man, and the boy is 12, that's a hard order to
fill. You know that better than anyone, Jess. That's a hard order to fill.

So, that's where I'll leave it tonight, sweet man. Loving Davey the way I
loved you. Holding him tightly and tasting his tears in a quiet, gentle
night where his world was full of possibility, but also so full of
unknown. Hearing him breathe. Feeling his heartbeat. Promising love I
intended to keep.

My sweet little Memphis Boy. Falling in love in both directions now.
Reciprocal and beautiful. Tender and painful. It always is, Jess.
Blossoming and becoming, learning who you are, is always so pretty and
painful.

More soon, sweet man.

Our next sleepover came quickly.

And next time, Davey wasn't afraid of anything.

I filled him so full, he was mine then, completely.

In every way. In every heartbeat.

Way inside. Way in deep.

More soon, Jess.

I love you, sweet man.

The way I love Davey.

Always have. Always will.

Love,
Zee

# # # # # # # # # #

z.blake@mail.com
scubasteve.11@hushmail.com

This story is a work of fiction.
CHAPTERS 5-7 are coming soon.
This file is updated as new chapters are added.