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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Making A Baby -05" (m/b/infant)
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   ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private,
Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com Caution/Welcome: This is an
intergenerational tale involving the love and sexual relationship between a
man, his young boy-wife, and their infant son.  In the first part of this
story Billy, a sixyear-old boy, was impregnated by Bobby, a husky
forty-year-old truck driver.  The next three parts followed the lives of
this unique family as they discovered the joys and wonder of boylove and of
raising their very own baby.  Part 5 begins with Bobby, now 42, and Billy,
approaching his ninth birthday, about to celebrate the second birthday of
their miracle child, Billy Bob.  This story is for posting at free adult
gay story sites only and may not be copied electronically nor in print form
for redistribution or posting at unauthorized sites.  Comments and story
suggestions are always welcome and can be forwarded to the author J.O. 
Dickingson at authorsix@hotmail.com

   Making a Baby - 05

   Bobby stretched and yawned as his subconscience tried to decide whether
to go back to sleep or to wake up.  Today was August third, a very
important day.  Two years ago on this date their miracle child had been
born and his life had been enriched a hundredfold, something he would never
have believed possible after the joy of discovering Billy only six months
earlier.  Having a cute eight-year-old boy who loved him just as much as
the husky, two-hundred-andsixty-five pound truck driver loved the blond,
blue-eyed lad, and a bouncing baby boy full of life and wonder, a man could
wish for nothing more.

   The morning sun shining in through the open window of their motorhome
warmed his naked body.  The air was fresh and clean after the night's rain
and Bobby inhaled its delightful fragrance deeply.  He was vaguely aware of
the slim, naked boy snuggled up beside him, his tousle-haired head resting
on Bobby's broad, hairy chest and his thin arm draped across him.  At
fifty-nine pounds and fifty-one inches tall, the boy was dwarfed by his
"furry bear" as the boy had come to call his boylover.  His eyes still
closed and still half-asleep, Bobby wrapped his beefy arm about the naked
boy, drawing his body closer to his as he thought of the delight just the
presence of that delightful boy brought him.  He inhaled deeply again,
enjoying the warmth of the morning sun and the joy of having a soft, tender
young body snuggled up to him as a hot, wet mouth tugged and sucked on his
limp cock.

   His mind still floating in and out of awareness those few moments
between sleep and wakefulness, Bobby half opened his eyes and glanced down
the length of his six-foot-four frame, down past the curly brown hair of
his chest and the sleeping blond head resting on it, down over his hairy
and slightly pudgy belly, past the thick bush of curly brown pubic hairs to
the blondhaired, blue-eyed child nestled between his hairy, outspread legs,
his little eyes closed and his little rosy lips tightly wrapped about
Bobby's gradually swelling cock.

   A smile slowly curled the trucker's lips as he looked down at his little
boy curled there between his legs, a twenty-five-pound bundle of pure joy.
His fine, blond hair had not yet been cut and it curled down over his ears
and his forehead.  It felt so light and silky against the inside of his
thighs as the child lowered his head.  His hot mouth slipped all the way
down Bobby's limp cock until his little pug nose was pressed into Bobby's
coarse, brown hairs.

   The child's soft, pink cheeks were puffed out and Bobby felt the force
of the little boy's breath as he blew on his thick prick.  Bobby slowly
reached down and stroked the blond head and Billy Bob opened his eyes and
looked up at his big daddy, his lips still firmly wrapped about his daddy's
cock.  Bobby grinned down at the child.

   "I know it's called a blow job," he said softly as he smiled down at his
son, "but you're supposed to suck, not blow."

   Billy Bob's sparkling, turquoise eyes continued to look up into Bobby's
as he blew harder.  Bobby could feel his hot baby breath blowing up his
peehole followed by a warm trickle.  Billy Bob's cheeks slowly began to
sink in as he forced his spittle up Bobby's urethra.  The fuzziness in
Bobby's mind cleared as what Billy Bob was doing registered in his mind. 
Once again Billy Bob's cheeks filled out, and once again Bobby felt the
pressure building up around his limp sausage.  Fully awake now, he
concentrated on his cock, and as the pressure about his dick built, Billy
Bob's cheeks began to sink in once again and Bobby could feel a definite
stream of warm fluid passing up the centre of his swelling organ.  It was
exactly the same feeling as when he urinated, but in reverse.

   Billy Bob had sucked his first cock at fourteen months, starting with
sucking off mashed peas from his birth father's little inch-and-a-half
pricklet, and then sampling his other father's sweet, clear "ee-um", as the
baby called it.  Of course Bobby could not hold back the thick load
building up in his nuts as Billy and Billy Bob licked up the droplets of
pre-cum as fast as he could produce it that day, and the two boys were
delighted with the result.  For the next ten months Bobby had been giving
his little son, and Billy, a tablespoon of that special, creamy treat once
or twice a month.  Although it was often Billy Bob who initiated it, asking
with a childish, wide-eyed eagerness for "da-da's pickle", this was the
first time the child had helped himself, and it was the first time he'd
actually blown rather than sucked.

   It was a strange feeling, and at first Bobby figured it was his
imagination.  As he focussed on his little boy and the physical sensation,
however, there could be no doubt that Billy Bob was indeed blowing his
spittle up the core of his shaft.  Bobby could feel it flowing into him, a
steady stream passing through his pee slit and up the centre of his cock
and then down into his balls.  As Billy Bob paused and his mouth began to
fill with baby spittle once again, Bobby slowly sat up, trying not to
disturb his still sleeping bed partner nor his little son.

   Billy sighed and held onto his furry bear tighter as Bobby sat up,
drawing Billy's sleeping body up along with him.  His beefy hand cupped the
boy's small, tender bottom as he drew the boy up, and he could not stop
himself from slipping his index finger along the boy's narrow, warm crack.
Billy sighed contentedly as Bobby gently massaged his tight little rosebud,
and the boy instinctively relaxed his sphincter to open his little hole to
Bobby's digit.

   Once again Billy Bob began to blow, and there was no longer any doubt in
Bobby's mind that the little child was blowing his baby drool up his cock.
He could feel it flowing up the pee tube and into his balls.  He watched
his testicles slowly roll and begin to swell.  There was no way the
microscopic tubules were really filling with spittle.  It had to be because
of the stimulation of his cock.  Still, it did not feel the same as when
they rolled and tightened with sexual arousal.  Bobby shuddered with the
strange feeling and stared down at his nuts as they slowly began to
balloon.

   Billy stirred and gradually opened his eyes.  A wide smile immediately
curled his lips as he looked up at his furry bear.  He loved to snuggle up
to Bobby's large, hairy body and to be held in his beefy arms.  It felt so
secure, so tender and loving.  He reached up and rubbed the sleep from his
eyes.  Bobby bent his head and kissed him on the forehead, still warm and
sleep-damp.  Billy pushed himself up to a sitting position, and wrapping
his arms about Bobby's broad, hairy chest, he kissed him on the lips.  It
was a long, soft kiss, the tender kiss of love.  It tasted fresh and sweet,
as only the kisses from an eight-year-old boy can taste.

   "Morning," Bobby said softly.

   "Mornin'," replied Billy with a wide, happy grin.

   "Had a good sleep?"

   "Oh yeah, great.  You?"

   "Yeah, slept like a baby," Bobby said with a grin and Billy giggled. 
That high-pitched, spontaneous laugh had to be the most wonderful sound in
the world.  There was nothing that could compare to the purity and
naturalness of a young boy's laughter.

   Bobby kissed him on the cheek, its softness and warmth like a touch of
velvet, and he drew him tighter, pressing Billy's slim, naked body against
his own.  Billy ran his fingers through his furry bear's chest hair,
something he never tired of doing.  As the boy smiled up at his lover,
Bobby smiled back and then bobbed his head as he looked down at his crotch.
Billy followed his gaze and his turquoise eyes sparkled with amusement at
the sight of his little son sucking eagerly on his lover's cock.  Billy's
rosy lips parted in a wide, open smile that revealed his small, square
teeth and he giggled again.

   "Looks like Billy Bob's having a morning snack," he said, his cheeks
dimpling with his wide grin.  Hearing his name, Billy Bob once again opened
his eyes.  His long, blond lashes fluttered as he looked up at his birth
father.

   "Mornin' Billy Bob," greeted Billy.  "Having some pickle already?"

   The two-year-old slipped his mouth off Bobby's now semierect cock, and
with a long ribbon of spittle hanging from his lower lip, he excitedly
scrambled up Bobby's massive body like he was a large, soft pillow. 
Twisting around so he was facing his little father, the baby boy leaned his
head forward and gave Billy an awkward, baby kiss on the lips.  Billy
reached around to hold his naked little son and returned the kiss, a
gentle, loving kiss on his little mouth.  His lips tasted of cock.

   "You love to suck pickle, don't you, little guy," Billy said knowingly.

   "Illy Ob love pickle," replied the child happily.

   "You sure do," laughed Bobby.

   "Well, Billy loves Bobby's pickle too," said Billy as he reached down
and fondled Bobby's limp, spittle-damped cock.

   "Illy Ob love Illy's pickle," the little boy said, reaching out and
grabbing Billy's little pricklet.

   "And Bobby loves Billy Bob's pickle," said Bobby, sliding down a bit so
he was half sitting and half laying on the bed.  He completed the circle as
he gently held up his little son's tiny pricklet with his thumb and index
finger.  The soft little noodle was only as long as Bobby's thumb was
thick.

   As the sun shone down upon them and the fresh morning air wafted in
through the open window of the motorhome, the three lay there on the big
bed and fondled each other lovingly.  At four inches, Bobby's limp cock was
already more than twice the length of Billy's when it was hard.  The
eight-year-old held his boylover's cock by the base with his fingertips and
then squeezing gently, slid them up the length to the tip of the rubbery
hose.  Releasing his hold, he reached back down to hold it by the base
again and once more drew up.  He loved to tug on Bobby's cock and to make
it grow hard with his fingers.

   Between being stroked by the eight-year-old and fondling his little
two-year-old son's tiny pricklet, Bobby began to get aroused.  It felt so
wonderful to have Billy's slender fingers tugging on his cock, stroking it
gently and knowingly just as the very same fingers loved to tug on the
boy's own little prick.  As Billy repeatedly tugged on Bobby's growing
cock, Bobby thought back to the first time he'd seen Billy, almost
two-and-a-half years ago.  He'd been standing there in the paint section of
the hardware store waiting for his father and fiddling with himself through
his pocket.  When the little tease noticed that Bobby had caught him,
instead of stopping, he fiddled with himself all the more to see what
Bobby's reaction would be.  That was one of several dozen things the burly
trucker loved about the boy.  He was open and honest and more than a little
daring.  He loved having sex probably even more than Bobby did himself, and
when it came to having sex with the eight-year-old, Bobby's only limitation
was his forty-two-year-old body.

   As he felt the little pricklet he was fiddling with become hard, he
could not help but be amazed at the sexuality of his little two-year-old
son.  He wondered if the child's enjoyment of "pickles" was because he'd
been conditioned just after his first birthday, or if it was something
natural and the only difference was that he and Billy allowed the boy child
to express his sexuality instead of suppressing it like heterosexual
parents did.  Or, was his delight in sex at such a young age a part of his
uniqueness?

   Bobby paused and held Billy Bob's hot little pee-er loosely.  When he
didn't resume his fiddling, the two-year-old began to squirm, wiggling his
little bottom so that he pumped his little stiffie in and out of the
stationary fingers.  Whatever the reason for his sexual enjoyment was,
there was no doubt that at two years of age the boy child already loved
having his little cock jerked.

   He not only loved having his own pickle stimulated, but he also loved to
suck on his two daddies' cocks.  Billy Bob had twisted around, and as Bobby
resumed his fiddling, Billy Bob slipped his lips about Billy's now stiff
little dick.  Bobby watched closely, and unlike previous times where the
child immediately began to suck, this time the two-year-old let his mouth
fill with spittle and then began to blow it into this little father's cock
just as he had been doing to Bobby.

   Billy squirmed and inhaled sharply with the sensation.  Having nursed
his little son up until only recently, he was very much aware of the
difference between suction and exhalation.  Although he'd been fiddling
with himself ever since a baby himself, and had been engaging in man-boy
sex ever since he was six, the feelings were still awesome and full of
wonder for the eight-year-old.  Now as he felt the warm fluid flowing up
his cocklet, his first impression was that he was peeing, but he quickly
realized the direction of the flow was wrong.

   Not really knowing much about how his little cock worked other than it
felt awesome when it was played with, it took a while before he realized
that the sensations he was feeling had nothing to do with the functioning
of his organs, but rather was the result of what Billy Bob was doing.  That
he was actually forcing his spit up his cock didn't seem unusual to Billy.
He just accepted it as another hidden wonder that he'd uncovered, and he
enjoyed the new sensation with the appropriate reverence and awe.

   By that time Bobby's cock had extended to its full length.  Wrapping his
fingers tightly about the man's thick, eight inch wand, Billy marvelled at
its size.  His fingertips just barely touched the tip of his thumb. 
Bobby's massive organ would be impressive to any man.  To the
eight-year-old, it seemed gigantic.  He slowly began to work his fist up
and down from the hairy base to the flanged head.  As he felt Bobby's
middle finger pressing against his butthole, and as he pushed out with his
anal muscle and felt Bobby's fingertip enter him, he thought about how
wonderful it felt to have Bobby's thick, hard cock up his asshole.

   That had to be the best feeling in the world, and he considered himself
so lucky having found the burly trucker.  Every kid should have a boylover
as far as he was concerned.  He was loved by his parents, but Bobby's love
was way different.  Just being loved the way that Bobby loved him was
reason enough to have a boylover, but to have one who also liked to have
sex with boys was an added bonus.  Even if he couldn't have another baby,
he loved getting fucked, and he especially loved the feeling when his lover
came and his seed shot up his asshole.

   "Your balls are way huge this morning," he observed, noticing for the
first time how much larger than usual Bobby's nut sack was.

   "Yes, so it seems," Bobby replied, not sure what to make of the
condition.  The thought that they were full of baby spittle was absurd.  He
didn't know much about biology, but he knew that could not be possible.

   Billy Bob twisted around, and laying on his stomach and stretching out
on top of Bobby, he took Bobby's stiff cock in his hot little hand and
slipped his tiny, moist mouth over the knob.  His little fingers couldn't
reach all around the big trucker's sausage, and his lips had to stretch
wide to accommodate his engorged knob, which totally filled the little
child's mouth.

   As Billy Bob began to suck, Billy slipped up along the bed until his
head was opposite his little boy's little pricklet.  The little one-inch
baby weenie stuck out stiffly at a ninety degree angle above his tiny
marble-sized nuts.  Billy nuzzled in between his two-year-old son and
Bobby. Opening his mouth wide and slipping it over his son's little
genitals, he sucked on them gently and Billy Bob wiggled with pleasure.

   Bobby carefully twisted his upper torso around so he could delight in a
new pleasure he'd discovered on this holiday, eating out Billy's
delightfully sweet ass.  Lifting the boy up by his legs, he placed one on
either side of his head so that Billy's small, pink mellons were directly
in front of his face.  Pulling apart the soft, tender globes to reveal his
pink little pucker, Bobby raised his head off the pillows and inhaled
deeply.  The aroma of those warm, young buns was like ambrosia and he
closed his eyes and with the smell fresh in his mind he leaned closer and
licked the boy's little rosebud.  It quivered and instantly opened, and
Bobby wormed his tongue into the moist chamber.  Billy squirmed and giggled
with arousal.  Bobby didn't know which brought him more pleasure, licking
the boy's hole or the reaction of the eight-year-old.

   They lay there like that for the longest time, little Billy Bob
stretched out on top of Bobby, his smooth little baby chest pressed against
the trucker's hairy stomach and his hot little fingers grasping onto
Bobby's stiff cock with all his little strength as he sucked hungrily on
Bobby's knob.  Billy Bob's hips were twisted to give Billy access to his
crotch.  At the moment the eightyear-old father was gently sucking on his
son's inch long cocklet while the tip of his tongue wormed into the opening
of the little two-year-old boy's foreskin.  Billy was supporting himself up
on his right elbow, his body draped at an angle across Bobby's hairy chest
and his knees on either side of his head.  He was uncut, like his son, and
Bobby had slid down flat on his back and had just commenced sucking on
Billy's own little stiffie, barely two inches long itself and pointing down
at Bobby's mouth.

   The sucking of his two-year-old son's hot, moist mouth and the pressure
of his soft, velvety lips around the sensitive edge of Bobby's swollen knob
was too much for the hot trucker.  Although he wanted to hold back, to make
this pleasure last longer, not just for himself but for Billy and for Billy
Bob, he could not do it.  Despite all his efforts not to cum, the dam burst
and he felt his semen begin to race up the core of his cock, rapidly
travelling the eight inches and squirting out into his baby boy's mouth. 
Bobby groaned with ecstasy with that first squirt, and Billy Bob instantly
swallowed the creamy offering and resumed his suction.  A second squirt
quickly followed the first, which was again quickly consumed by the
two-year-old who sucked deeply the third time.

   As he came, Bobby sucked hard on Billy's little wiener, delighting in
the feel of the little stiff tube in his mouth and in the joy of his
orgasm. The tiny muscles in Bobby's cockhead and the tendon's in his nut
sack constricted, squirting out a fourth, fifth, and sixth squirt, one
after the other but with a couple second pause between each, just enough
time for Billy Bob to swallow each creamy shot.  The actions of the two
were beautifully coordinated.  Suck, squirt, swallow; suck, squirt swallow.
Bobby quivered and his hot breath blew through his nose and blasted Billy's
smooth, hairless pubes.  Suck, squirt, swallow; suck, squirt; swallow.

   Half a minute passed by and he was continuing to ejaculate, squirt after
delightful squirt.  That was impossible.  He had never squirted so many
times in his life, not even when jerking off as a horny teenage boy.  It
was totally amazing, the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him.

   As ripples of pleasure caused his little cocklet to throb in time with
Bobby's squirts, Billy Bob began to tremble while at the same time he
continued to eagerly swallow the creamy squirts of cum erupting from the
thick cockhead in his mouth.  Billy knew that his little baby boy was
climaxing, and he sucked on the hot, throbbing little pricklet happily as
his own grew numb and suddenly burst into flame also, the burning, itching
feeling around the sensitive knob passing down the little shaft, causing
his entire cock to throb like a miniature heart.  His body jerked and his
groin went numb and he groaned with his own violent dry orgasm.

   The three lay where they were for the longest time, Bobby flat on his
back, Billy Bob stretched out on his tummy on top of the beefy, hairy
trucker, and Billy laying on his side, snuggled up against his furry bear
with his tousled, blond head resting on his still heaving stomach.  Bobby
could not believe the orgasm he'd just had.  He'd cum not just for thirty
seconds, but for at least a solid minute.  One squirt after another had
squirted out of his cock like water from a water pistol, and not with a
rapid machine-gun volley, but with a couple second pause between squirts so
that as the pleasure of the first began to ebb the pleasure of the second
commenced, wave after endless wave.

   "That was awesome," Billy finally said.

   "Yeah," agreed Bobby with a deep sigh.

   Billy Bob just smiled contentedly at his two fathers.

   "Hungry?" asked Bobby.

   "Starvin'," Billy replied.

   Bobby got up, and still naked, began to prepare breakfast while Billy
and Billy Bob played on the bed.  The aroma of coffee, pancakes and bacon
soon filled the motorhome.  The three sat down at the table, Bobby and
Billy facing each other on opposite benches and Billy Bob in his high
chair, all three still naked.  Since meeting Billy, Bobby had slowly become
accustomed to going nude whenever they were together.  Breakfast seemed to
taste especially good that morning.

   When they were done, they brought out the potty and encouraged Billy Bob
to sit, but to no avail.  The little baby kept getting up and wanting to go
play.  Putting on his diaper, much to Billy Bob's objection, Bobby did up
the dishes while Billy sat at the table and coloured and Billy Bob sat on
the bed stacking up blocks and knocking them back down.

   It was a lazy morning, as mornings are supposed to be when you are on
holiday, Billy working all morning on a secret picture, Billy Bob amusing
himself with one toy or another and then finding equal delight in playing
with his toes, and Bobby settling back and reading.  Billy revealed his
masterpiece just before noon, a picture of the three of them as they had
been that morning.  Bobby had to smile at the exaggerated size of their
cocks, especially his, but he said nothing.  Posting it up above the bed
and praising Billy's skill, he gave the little artist as kiss on the
forehead, and for the little artist, that was worth more than all the gold
in the world.

   They had ketchup and baloney sandwiches for lunch, giving Billy Bob the
soft centres of the bread and a scrambled egg.  For dessert he insisted on
Bobby's pickle, which Bobby finally agreed to only if Billy Bob would sit
on the potty.  The little boy sat, and after ten minutes, the odour wafting
up from the little plastic pot signalled success.

   "Illy Ob poop," he announced proudly, and his two fathers acted as if
he'd just announced he'd found the cure for the common cold

   He got his reward, and taking advantage of the opportunity, Billy joined
in, getting his butt thoroughly rimmed and his little cocklet blown for the
second time that day.  As Bobby felt himself approaching his climax once
again, he waited with even greater anticipation than usual and with a touch
of dread, not sure what to expect.  To his amazement, he came just as
copiously, and with the same squirting-delay action as he had that morning.
He could not believe it.  For just over a minute he lay there in the throes
of ecstasy as squirt after squirt of cum shot into his baby boy's mouth. 
Bobby gasped and thrust his hips upward as squirt after squirt shot out of
his burning peehole.  He trembled as he lowered his body and squirmed with
ripples of stimulation rippingly through his cock head.  He couldn't
explain the phenomenon, but he certainly was not complaining.

   They spent that hot August afternoon in the KOA swimming pool.  At three
Bobby took Billy Bob back to the motorhome for his nap, and once again he
asked for Bobby's pickle.  Bobby laughed and replied that the baby's furry
bear needed a bit of time to reload, but Billy Bob persisted, and Bobby
could not deny the blond-haired, blue-eyed urchin his request.  Other than
during his fucking frenzy the first four weeks after he had met Billy, the
forty-two-year-old trucker hadn't come three times in such a short time
since he'd been a randy teenager.

   Laying down on the bed, he raised his hips and pushed down his swim
suit. Billy Bob instantly scrambled up on the bed and over to his burly
daddy.  Bobby had to smile at the boy's eagerness as he reached out for
Bobby's limp cock before his swim suit was even half way down his thighs.
Just like his birth dad, Bobby thought with a smile.  He had Billy's looks,
his soft, fine hair, his blue eyes, and his small pug nose, and evidently
he had Billy's sexual appetite too.  Bobby was soon erect, which was not a
surprise considering how sexy he found the little toddler, and after three
minutes of sucking, he once again began to squirt out his load, and not
just a weak pulse and a few token droplets, but once again rope after rope
of cum.

   They had birthday cake and ice cream for dessert that evening, and Billy
Bob excitedly ripped open the wrapping paper on his presents, a large red
fire truck and a wooden puzzle which required him to place one of five
Disney characters in the right shaped space on a flat board.  The three of
them lay on the bed and played with Billy Bob and his new toys, and then
while Billy Bob amused himself, Bobby and Billy played a few games of "go
fish".

   By the time Bobby crawled into bed to go to sleep that night, he'd fed
his young son two more times, an extra treat after the cake and ice cream,
and three hours later before putting Billy Bob to sleep.  Billy didn't seem
to mind that his little son had monopolized his furry bear's cock all day,
and Bobby admired the little lad for that concession on Billy Bob's special
day.  He resolved to make it up to the boy as soon as he was able to
recover from the miraculous number of orgasms he'd managed on that very
special date.

   To Bobby's surprise, he had no difficulty getting it up and getting it
off the next morning for his little two-year-old son, nor for his
eight-year-old love boy while Billy Bob had his nap that afternoon.  Not
only that, both times his ejaculation took over a minute.  He had no idea
what to attribute his miraculous ability to, but he hoped that it would
last.  It did, for the rest of the week, which went by far too quickly, as
vacations tend to do, and each ejaculation took just a little longer.  At
the end of that weekend the happy campers finally had to return home.

   Bobby had a number of short daily runs to make, and whenever he could,
he took Billy and Billy Bob with him.  They were a delight to have along on
the trip.  Not only did it break the monotony, but for the two boys
everything they saw and did was a novelty, and Bobby could not help but get
caught up in their excitement too.  The two boys could spend hours just
looking out the window, and Billy Bob could spend hours between the legs of
his two fathers either blowing his baby drool up their cocks or sucking on
their delightful "pickles" until they climaxed.  It was a most delightful
and unusual August.

   With the arrival of September, Bobby had longer trips and Billy returned
to school, making the occasions where the three of them could be together
rarer, and all the more special.

   "Mrs.  Jacobson's pretty cool for a teacher," Billy observed on his way
home from school the first Friday.

   "Yeah," agreed the boy walking with him.  "I think grade four's gonna be
fun."

   "You have a good summer?"

   The boy shrugged.  "Okay."

   The two walked in silence.  "Are things ...  like ...  you know ... 
okay at home?"

   "Yeah, I guess," Aaron said, looking down at the sidewalk.

   Bobby looked over at him, knowing he'd just been lied to.  Aaron had
joined his class back in January and lived just a couple blocks away. 
Bobby got along well with everyone and was eager to make new friends, but
his attempts to bring Aaron into his circle of friends had failed.  The boy
had been particularly shy and quiet, and seemed to be a real loner.  He
also seemed very sad.  Then one afternoon during the Easter break he'd
confided in Bobby.  He told him how his father had died two years ago, when
he was only six, and how much fun they used to have and how much he missed
him.  He told him how his mother had started to drink after that, and then
to date again, and the arguments they had over both of those things, and
how he'd cried on the day his mother remarried.

   He'd told her the man just wanted the money from his dad's will, and she
told him to stop worshipping his dad and that he was wrong about his new
father.  He angrily retorted that he didn't want a new father, that nobody
could replace his old one.  The day his father had died was the saddest day
of his life.  The day his mother remarried was the second saddest.  After
the wedding they had moved here to live with his new dad and
sixteen-year-old stepbrother.

   "You wanna talk about it?"

   "Nothing to talk about."

   "Your mom and dad still drinking?"

   "They're always drunk.  Jim lost his job cuz of his drinking."

   Billy always called Bobby by his first name, but it wasn't the same.  He
and Bobby loved each other, and it was only natural to call someone you
love so much by their name instead of something formal like mister.  Aaron
called his step-dad by his first name for the opposite reason, because he
didn't like him, because there was only one man he could bring himself to
call Dad.

   "I'm sorry to hear that."

   "Yeah, well, he's an alcoholic," said Aaron simply with a shrug.  "Mom's
got a job at this packing plant and she just doesn't seem to care about
anything anymore, except getting drunk.  She'll probably lose her job some
day too."

   "And your step brother?"

   "I never see him, and when I do he barely says two words.  He hates me."

   "You sure?"

   "Well, he never smiles or nothing when he's around me, and it's like
he's always avoiding me.  Like if we're in the same room together, he gets
up and goes to another room, like I stink or something even if he was in
the room first."

   "You're kidding."

   "No.  He hangs around with this best friend a lot anyway.  The two of
them are real druggies."

   Billy looked down the street.  It had to be terrible living like that.

   "So you had a good summer?" Aaron asked.

   "Yeah, it was cool," said Billy flatly.  He couldn't tell him the truth.
Telling him it was the most fantastic summer he'd ever had would really
make him feel bad.

   "Well, I'll see ya Monday," Aaron said, having arrived at his home. 
Before Billy could say anything, he ran up the sidewalk.  Billy didn't see
but the boy was blinking the tears out of his eyes.  Billy had been the
only boy to really try to become friends with him, and he really wanted to
become friends, but it was hard.  It always had been hard for him to make
friends, and since his dad had died it had become even harder.  You had to
be in the right mood to make a new friend, and he was always just too sad.

   Aaron had hoped that maybe, in time, things would be different with
Billy.  Now, the only boy who seemed to care, had just lied to him.  The
goddamn shitty cunt had lied.  Billy had felt pity for him.  He didn't want
Billy's pity.  And, if that was why he wanted to be a friend, he didn't
want his friendship either.  He slammed the door behind him and Jim
immediately screamed at him for doing so.

   Early that Saturday afternoon Bobby arrived at Billy's house.  Billy was
up in his room playing with his Star Wars models.  Jar Jar Binks was about
to lead young Anakin Skywalker to the secret treasure deep in the swamps of
Ptooie when he'd heard a car pull up outside and his mother call out
Bobby's name.

   "How are you this afternoon?" he heard his mother ask.

   "In a bit of a pickle, I'm afraid," Bobby replied.

   "Pickle yum yum."

   Billy smiled at the sound of Billy Bob's voice, and at his comment,
knowing very well which type of pickle his little son was thinking about.
He went over to the open window and looked down into the yard.

   "What's the problem?"

   "I've been called out of town unexpectedly for a four-day haul.  A big
job.  But I can't get a hold of a baby sitter and Janet is out of town.  "I
hate to impose ."

   "You know its no imposition.  We're always delighted to look after Billy
Bob," Billy's mother said honestly as she knelt down and took him in her
arms.

   "It's too long a haul to take him with me, and he's been sort of fussy
lately.  I think maybe he's getting another tooth."

   "That's always painful," said Billy's mother sympathetically.  "You
don't worry about a thing.  We'd be happy to look after him.  Billy's
always delighted to see him.  He's really marvellous with him."

   Billy wondered what his mother would say if she knew the real
relationship between him and Billy Bob.  There had been many times he had
wanted to tell her, but she'd never believe it, and it would only lead to
other things, things that he and Bobby had to keep secret.

   "Yeah, they really love each other," Bobby said, feeling just as awkward
talking about it.  He knew that Billy loved his parents dearly, just as a
son loves his parents even though married and a father himself with his own
son that he loved and that depended on him.  That was the closest
relationship that Bobby could think of in trying to define the unique
relationship between himself and Billy.

   He wished there was someway that their relationship could be more open,
that it could exist parallel with the relationship Billy had with his
parents.  He wished that they did not have to hide the love that they felt
for each other.  Bobby knew that was wishful thinking.  Something like that
was not likely to occur in his life time, although he knew that there had
been times in history when boylove had been much more acceptable, and that
there would be a time in the future when society would once again see that
it was a very special and marvellous love.  "Billy around?"

   "Yes, he's up in his room," his mother said.  "Playing with his space
toys most likely," she added with a smile.  "Go ahead and go up and say
hello." She knew the close bond that had formed between the husky trucker
and her little boy.  Bobby had become like a member of the family, and that
he had such a tender heart and loved children so much had touched her. 
That was ironic in a way in that if she knew their true relationship, which
was even closer and more tender than she suspected, she'd be screaming for
him to be thrown in jail, probably even castrated.  The one relationship
was worthy of the highest praise.  The other was the most despicable
imaginable.  Why that one difference between the two was so crucial, Bobby
would never understand.

   "Hi!" called Billy from his window with a wave.

   "Hi yourself," called back Bobby with a smile, glad to have his
unpleasant thoughts interrupted.  Just the sight of the eight-year-old made
his heart skip for joy, and the look of happiness on the boy's face upon
seeing him made their relationship right.  It reaffirmed in his mind that
he was fortunate to be one of the privileged few who knew the true joys of
being a boylover.

   Bobby waved back at the boy.  He'd already picked out his birthday
present for the end of the month, and was looking forward to the day he'd
give it to him with just as much eagerness as the boy was looking forward
to turning nine.

   "Go," encouraged Billy's mother.  "I'll watch over Billy Bob."

   Bobby didn't need to be told again.  His step had a light bounce as he
strode up the walk and took the stairs two at a time.  As he stepped into
the room, Billy threw himself at him, leaping up into his arms and wrapping
his arms about the burly trucker as he kissed him.  Bobby spun him around
and returned the kiss before putting him down.

   "So, your mother was right about the space toys," he said with a smile
as he spotted the plastic figures on the bed.

   "Yep," Billy said with a grin.

   Bobby glanced around the room.  It had not changed much since that
afternoon he'd come over to see the new paint job.  Some of the older
plastic models had been replaced with newer ones, and the pictures the boy
had drawn were even better than those he'd had up on the wall that day. 
One of those he'd drawn during their camping trip of Bobby and another of
Billy Bob had been added just above his desk.  They were two of the
"proper" ones he'd drawn.  The more intimate ones were secured away in a
locked drawer in Bobby's desk.

   "You heard the conversation out in the yard?"

   "Yeah.  So you got a big job huh?"

   "Yep, going to bring in some nice cash."

   "Cool."

   "So, how was your first week at school?"

   "Way cool.  Mrs.  Jacobson's gonna be a neat teacher."

   "Good.  Mark still in the same classroom as you?" Bobby asked, referring
to the eightyear-old's longest and best pal.

   "Oh yeah, and Aaron too."

   "That's good," Bobby smiled.  Aaron was a newer friend.  He'd only met
the boy once and he seemed nice, but very timid, and very sad.  Bobby hated
to see any boy sad.  He'd asked Billy about that, but Billy hadn't said
much about his new friend and since his name never came up, Bobby soon had
forgotten about him.  He, himself, had a special relationship with his
young friend, but he also knew there were private areas where adults were
forbidden to go.

   "You gotta go right away?"

   "As soon as I can."

   "Gonna miss ya.  We had such a way cool summer."

   "Going to miss you too kid," Bobby said, picking him up and kissing him
again.  Those kisses were so sweet.  If he could package them he'd make
millions, but there was no way he would ever be willing to share those
kisses with other men.

   "You got time, to, well, you know?" Bobby asked with a hopeful look in
his eyes.

   "Mmmm, to do what?" asked Bobby teasingly.

   "Billy Bob's not the only one who likes your pickle," Billy said with a
grin, reaching down and cupping the trucker's basket.

   "Or the only one who likes yours," said Bobby.

   "So can we?"

   "Well, I'd love to, but, well. . . ."

   "Aw, it's okay.  Mom's out there talking to Mrs.  Delday.  She and her
can talk for hours and hours."

   "You know I'd love nothing more, Billy," said Bobby.  "But you know you
and me can't take chances."

   "Com'on," Billy said, taking the trucker's big, beefy hand in his. 
Leading him over to the window, they looked out at Billy's mother and
neighbour talking over the fence and Billy Bob and Billy's sister playing
in the playpen.  "We can do it right here so if we see Mom coming toward
the house we got lots of time to put on our clothes."

   Bobby was still hesitant, but those big turquoise eyes did their thing
and the next thing he knew he was unbuckling his belt.  By the time he had
lowered his pants and boxers, Billy had shucked all his clothes.

   "Your nuts are way bigger than they used to be," the eight-year-old
observed as he knelt down before Bobby.

   "Yes, they are," Bobby replied, still marvelling at their growth and his
miraculous ability to pump out even more semen than he'd been able to back
as a teenager.  "Looks like you're growing down there too."

   "Yeah," said Billy with a wide, toothy grin.  "When it's hard its way
bigger than it used to get."

   "Well, I'll have to check out that claim, sir," Bobby said, dropping to
his knees and taking the limp noodle between his finger and thumb.

   Billy's little boyhood responded immediately.  Bobby gently pulled back
on the foreskin, slowly and gently drawing it down to reveal the boy's
reddish head.  It was so sensitive and tender looking.  As he slowly and
gently drew the skin back up, Bobby had to smile as the little organ began
to fill with blood.  It was so marvellous getting the little eight-year-old
erect, feeling his little cocklet swelling and knowing how pleasant the boy
was feeling.

   Billy was thinking the same thing about the forty-two year old, his
right hand wrapping about the limp but much fatter tube and tugging on it
as he loved to tug on his own.  When he'd said he loved the burly trucker's
pickle he had meant it.  He loved how it felt in his hand, he loved the way
it smelled, he loved the way it tasted, and especially, he loved the way it
felt up his bumhole.  The two lovers knelt there on the floor amongst the
clutter of space paraphernalia and toys, the two-hundred and sixty-five
pound trucker with his trousers and boxers about his ankles and the naked
eight-year-old boy, and fondled each other until they were both erect.

   "Damn," cursed Bobby softly.

   "What?"

   "I forgot the KY."

   "Be right back," Billy said with a twinkle in his eyes.

   He was right back, with a tube of lilac scented hand lotion.

   "What are you doing with that in your room?"

   "Well, mom said I needed it on account my skin got dry being out in the
sun all summer," Billy said, and then he added with a twinkle in his eyes,
"and it feels super to jerk off with."

   "So that is why the bottle is almost empty," Bobby teased, and Billy
giggled, causing Bobby's heart to ache.

   "Lets do it here by the window," Billy said as he grabbed the pillows
with their space wars pillow cases off his bed and stacked them on the
floor before the window.  He dropped to his knees, and opening up the
bottle, he poured some of the creamy-yellow contents onto his fingertips
and then smeared the lotion over Bobby's stiff cock.  "Feels cool, huh?"

   "Yeah," agreed Bobby.  "And smells great too."

   Billy applied a generous coating of the lotion to Bobby's cock, and then
knelt down on one of the pillows, placing his arms on the ledge of the
window.

   "Fraid you're a bit too low down," said Bobby.  They glanced around,
then stacked up a dozen books from his bookcase on the floor and covered
them with the pillows.  "Much better," Bobby pronounced as he got in
position again between the boy's outspread legs.

   Placing his hand on the boy's slim hips for support, he drew up until
the tip of his cock was pressing against Billy's little hole.  Billy
squirmed around, wiggling his little pink butt as he pressed down on the
thick, greased probe seeking entry.  Bobby remained motionless, allowing
the boy to get into position.  Billy wiggled one way and then the other and
then slowly pushed backward.  Bobby felt the eight-year-old boy's warm,
moist chute begin to slip over his knob.  The two of them had perfected
this act of love over the years, and Bobby had learned it was best to let
Billy take the lead when it came to uniting with him.

   Having found a comfortable position, Billy stopped and Bobby took over.
He slowly eased his cock forward, pushing in inch by inch into the boy's
hot, eager rectum.  Each time they did it, it seemed like Billy was able to
take in more and more of his cock, so that by now he was able to bury well
over six inches up his butt.  He paused to enjoy the sensation, both
physical and mental, and then he slowly began to rock to and fro on his
knees, holding the boy firmly by the hips so he didn't thrust forward and
send the boy flying out the window.  It felt so fantastic having his cock
buried up the boy's tight hole, and it felt even more fantastic knowing how
much the boy enjoyed it.

   There was no question that Billy was enjoying it.  His breathing became
more laboured, and he reached down and fiddled with his nuts and cock while
his boylover fucked him.  He glanced down into the yard at his mom still
talking to the neighbour, and at his little son playing contentedly in the
playpen.  He was so lucky he wanted to shout for the whole neighbourhood to
hear.

   Bobby wanted to do the same.  Who would have thought two years ago he'd
be in some eight-year-old's bedroom fucking his tight little ass while
watching the boy's mother and their son through his bedroom window.  He
reached around and took over for the boy's fingers.  The stiff little
cocklet was much larger now.  His little boy was growing up, which was not
a surprise, although the increase in size was.  The burly trucker thought
back to when he was a boy and he was certain his cock had not started to
grow until he had reached puberty.  That had been at the age of thirteen.
Billy had four more years to go.

   Bobby looked out of the window and at that moment Billy Bob looked up.
Even from that distance the two in the window could see the smile curling
the two-year-old's lips, and he waved up at them.  They somehow sensed that
he was happy not just to see them, but that he somehow knew exactly what
they were doing at that moment.

   The thought of their little two-year-old son watching them fucking and
knowing what they were doing was too much for Bobby.  His nuts contracted
and he shot out the first of his squirts of semen.  He withdrew and shoved
in again as a second squirt erupted from his body.  He grunted and gasped
with the pleasure, and then withdrew and thrust in again, sending another
squirt up Billy's asshole.  Bobby gasped with the sensation and began
thrusting his hips in and out of Billy rapidly, each thrust sending another
hot squirt up his little boy's asshole.  Over and over he shot to the
delight of both of them.

   It was unbelievable.  Bobby groaned openly with the pleasure and wanked
on Billy's little cock furiously as shot after shot squirted out of this
body.  His cock was throbbing violently, the tip burning with irritation as
rope after rope shot through it.  Suddenly Billy began to squirm
uncontrollably and Bobby stopped his thrusting and let the boy thrust his
body forward and then drive it back down on the stiff pole up his ass. 
Billy gasped and grunted with his own orgasm, his little cocklet throbbing
and his peehole opening and closing as ripples of pleasure rippled from the
pee slit all the way down to deep in his groin.  Bobby at the same time
continued to shoot his hot cum up the boy's tight little ass, which had
been clenching and then relaxing in a rapid cycle as the boy trembled with
his orgasm.

   Bobby's cum finally stopped, close to two minutes after it had begun. 
Bobby knelt there, his hard, stiff cock buried up the eight-year-old's
tight ass, and his head spinning with the lightheadedness that follows a
hot climax.  His chest was still heaving when he finally withdrew and
collapsed with exhaustion on the carpet.  Billy turned and looked down at
him, his flushed face beaming.

   "That was fucking awesome!" he said.

   "Yeah," Bobby sighed.  "It sure was." He was panting too hard to say
anything more.  It was some time yet before he had recovered enough to pull
up his pants and say good-bye.

   That night Billy convinced his mother to let Billy Bob sleep in his bed
with him.  He just wanted to be with the little guy, to snuggle up with him
and to sleep beside him.  Billy Bob had far different plans.  As his little
father sat there propped up against the pillows on his bed with his little
tyke snuggled up against him, he read the "Barney's Picnic" storybook to
him.  Billy Bob reached up inside the boy's pajamas top and his hot little
hand ran over Billy's smooth chest.  Billy ignored him and continued to
read, although not easily, as Billy Bob pushed his star wars pajamas top up
further to reveal his chest.  The boy's mouth immediately went for one of
his nipples.

   "Sorry little guy," Billy said as he put the book down and wrapped an
arm about the twoyear-old child.  "Daddy got no more milk for you."

   He didn't know, but Billy Bob didn't want anything to drink.  He just
enjoyed sucking on his little daddy's teat and being held by him.  Billy
had enjoyed suckling his son just as much and had missed it when he'd
stopped producing milk and Billy Bob had begun to eat solid food.  He eased
his hand down and slipped it under the boy's teddy pajamas bottoms.

   "Daddy will take your diaper off for a little while, okay?"

   "No mo' diaper," Billy Bob readily agreed.  The little tyke was always
losing his diaper and seemed to be out of it more often than in it.  Billy
would be glad when the little duffer was toilet trained.  He'd just spent
half an hour before bed waiting for him as he sat on the potty to no avail,
and then he had just put on his diaper when the kid pooped in them.

   His little bum was clean now, and Billy reached down and ran his finger
along the crack.  Billy Bob squirmed and giggled as he did so and the
two-year-old reached down and slipped his hand in Billy's pajamas bottoms.
Billy helped push them down, and then taking out his hand lotion, he put a
little on his middle finger.  As Billy Bob descended on his soft little
pickle and slipped his lips over it, Billy eased his lubricated finger tip
into the boy's tender little hole.  Billy Bob squirmed with delight, and
then working up a mouth of drool, he began to blow it up Billy's little
cocklet.  It felt weird to Billy, and in no time he was hard.

   For the next half hour the two boys enjoyed themselves, Billy finger
fucking his little boy while he gave suck to him.  Billy Bob's little
asshole was so tight and it felt so velvety smooth and moist.  At the same
time, feeling his little son's hot mouth around his cock was fantastic. 
Billy Bob continued to blow his baby drool up his daddy's cock for a while,
and then he began to suck.  Billy sighed with the pleasure and worked his
finger in and out of his little son's hole a bit faster.  Finally Billy's
little cock trembled and his lower torso jerked and twitched with his
climax, and as Billy gasped with the exquisite pleasure, Billy Bob suddenly
quivered with his own little dry orgasm, his tiny little cocklet throbbing
in his daddy's fingers while his bumhole clenched tightly about the middle
finger of his daddy's other hand.

   An hour later Billy's mom and dad slipped in his room to check on him
and Billy Bob, and they smiled at the sight of their blond-haired angel
sleeping contentedly, his arm draped about the little two-year-old angel
snuggled up to him.  The little angel had once again lost his diaper. 
Slipping it on the sleeping child, they drew the covers up over the two
boys and kissed both gently and lovingly on the forehead.

   Several hundred miles away, Bobby had pulled over to a roadside stop and
had crawled into the sleeper of his truck to rest.  He was still relishing
the experience he'd had in Billy's bedroom, and still marvelling at his
ability to come for such a long time and so frequently.  Life was
mysterious, and marvellous.  He closed his eyes and fiddled with himself.
Before he even became erect, the burly trucker had drifted off to a
contented sleep.

   "So how was your weekend?" Billy asked Aaron on their way home from
school the next Monday.

   "Boring.  What about yours?"

   "Bobby stopped over.  And Billy Bob spent the night."

   "You're so way lucky," Aaron said enviously.

   "You ever think more about what we talked about?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "You know."

   "About having a boy lover like you?"

   "Yeah." Billy knew he wasn't supposed to talk about that with anyone,
but he knew he could trust Aaron, and besides, it wasn't the same as
telling an adult or something about his special relationship with Bobby. 
Besides, the more he'd talked with his new friend the more convinced he'd
become that the answer to Aaron's problem was to find a man who loved him,
not a man who loved him like his father had, but who would love him like
Bobby loved him.

   "Yeah, I have," Aaron finally answered.

   "And?"

   "You and Bobby really love each other." Aaron had said it as a
statement, but Billy knew it was a question.

   "Heck, yeah.  He just took me on holiday with him, didn't he?  And he
worries about me, and cares about me, not just on special days like
birthdays either.  He likes being with me, and doing stuff with me.  That's
what you do when you love someone."

   "And you and him really made a baby."

   "Yeah."

   "You're not bs'ing me are you?"

   "No, cross my heart and hope to die."

   "Scout's honour?"

   "Yeah, scout's honour," Billy replied.  Aaron had been in the scouts
before his dad died.

   "What was it like, him, well, you know, putting his thing up your bum?"

   "Totally awesome.  You'd like it."

   "I don't know.  It sounds yucky."

   "Well, you don't have to have sex.  Not with a true boy lover.  A true
boy lover just wants to be with you, to do things with you.  But I think
having sex is something extra special.  It means you and him really love
each other.  It's like when two people kiss.  They do it cuz it feels good,
and cuz they want the person they love to feel good.  Fucking is the same,
but more."

   "If a man really loved me, I mean really lots, I guess I'd do sex stuff
with him."

   "Would you have a baby with him?"

   Aaron thought for a moment.  "Yeah, I would.  And I'd treat my baby
right.  Just like it was with me and my dad.  I'd love him so much. . . ."
Aaron looked off into space dreamily.

   "Then we got to find you a boylover," announced Billy.

   Aaron looked over at him and smiled shyly.  "Thanks," he said softly.

   "One that will make a baby with you so you can have a little boy to love
too."

   "But you said there was some special stuff that you had to have in order
for it to happen."

   "Yeah," said Billy with a grin, the type of grin boys get when they have
a special secret.  "Com'on over to my house after supper.  I got something
cool to show you."

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