MEMPHIS BOY By Zachyboy M/b, oral, anal # # # # # # # # # # CHAPTER 1. "A STALL IN THE MALL" # # # # # # # # # # 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. # # # # # # # # # # 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. Guhguh---" "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.