After having jerked off for Dwight, having a wet dream while sleeping in the same bed with Mz. Collins, and then shooting a load of cum onto both of the Wiener girls' pussies in a matter of two days having to go back to solo masturbation was a real let down.

For a few days, none of the neighborhood parents called in need of a babysitter. I began to wonder if one of the kids had told one of their parents about what had happened while I was babysitting them. Then in the morning after four full days of silence, shortly after I got out of bed, the phone rang: Mrs. Beaver wanted me to watch Dylan for a few hours, during the afternoon. She said something about having to go to the reading of a will; but I didn't quite catch everything she said over the phone because she was talking real fast...

***

I headed over to the Beaver' house on the next block: arriving a minute or two after 12:30. Mrs. Beaver opened the door before I even managed to knock. She ushered me inside and immediately had me take my shoes off before giving me some quick instructions. Most of the instructions seemed to center around not making a mess in the house: no wearing shoes inside, we could swim in the pool, but had to dry-off before coming into the house, and what not.

Barely two minutes after I had stepped into the Beaver's house, Mrs. Beaver was jabbing her feet into a pair of shoes that looked like men's penny loafers and all but running out the door.

For about the first twenty minutes after Mrs. Beaver left, Dylan was quietly watching TV. Then, out of the blue, the ten year old boy turned to me and asked, "Can you show me how the white stuff comes out of your wiener?"

He had been so quiet that his question caught me completely off guard; so much so that I replied, "Wai...wha?"

Looking at me like I was an idiot, Dylan said, "Joe told me about how when you were babysitting him and Ben, you made this white stuff come out of your wiener..." he trailed off.

"Oh," I said, "You wanna see me shoot..."

"Dwight said it made a big mess," he interrupted me. Clearly the kids I had babysat were telling other kids in the neighborhood about what I'd done. Looking back on it, I probably should have been very worried by it; but at the time I was at most only marginally troubled by the way tales of my activities while babysitting were making the rounds.

"That's right: it is really messy when it shoots out," I said before suggesting, "We could do it in the bathroom, so it'll be easier to clean up."

After about two seconds of silence, Dylan said, "No; better do it outside."

Now, I'd never jerked off outside before, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from shooting a load; so I said, "Alright," as I stood.

Dylan and me quickly made our way to the backdoor, then outside. Taking not more than three steps outside, Dylan made a hard left turn and lead me towards the corner of the house.

"Nobody'll notice if there's a mess..." the ten year old boy began explaining, as he stepped between the wall of the house and a large bush. He scurried between the wall and the back of the bush and said, "...back here. Come on..."

Figuring `what the hell', I began to make my way through the small space between the corner of the house and the bush. Little more than two feet in from the corner of the house, I was amazed to discover how much space was actually behind the bush: there was perhaps three feet from the wall to the woody branches on the back of the bush, a dimension that stayed fairly consistent for well over a dozen feet along the length of the wall. I'm all but certain that my amazement at the space behind the bush was visible on my face, because Dylan said, "Who'd `a thought there was this much space back here, hunh?"

I half chuckled before saying, "Clearly not me."

Dylan smiled as he offered, "I didn't realize the space existed until I crawled back here after a ball last year." He took a deep breath then commented, "Back here, it doesn't matter how much of a mess the stuff makes when it shoots out of your wiener."

Taking his last comment as a `go ahead', I pulled the front of my shorts and boxers down until the elastic waistbands were below my balls. Since I knew he wanted to see me shoot a load of cum it was no surprise that my dick was already hard. I simply wrapped the fingers of my right hand around the shaft of my dick and began moving my hand up-and-down the length of its shaft.

After I'd been stroking my dick for about thirty seconds Dylan asked, "Do you always have to rub it like that to make it shoot the white stuff?"

I was about to simply say `yes' when I remembered that I didn't need to rub my dick to have a wet dream and that I hadn't actually rubbed my dick when I had shot into Cami's and Tara's slits. But then again, I'd never been able to make myself blast a load of cum when I was awake and alone without rubbing my dick... "Yes, and no," I replied. Seeing a confused look on Dylan's face I began explaining, "Sometimes it shoots out when I'm asleep and having a dream: then I don't have to touch my dick..."

"Makes a mess in your underpants then?" he interrupted me by asking.

"Yea, but the underpants contain the mess," I responded before continuing my explanation about rubbing my dick to make cum shoot out, "Other than that, if I want to make the stuff shoot out I have to rub my dick..." I trailed off; deciding in the moment that it would probably be wise to not mention my experience with Cami and Tara.

After a couple seconds of silence, he quietly said, "Oh..." Dylan then opened his mouth for half a second before closing it. He pointed up as if to signify that he had an idea, before saying, "So if somebody else rubbed your wiener, the stuff still shot out..."

"You wanna try making it shoot out by rubbing my dick?" I offered.

"Can I!?" he excitedly asked.

"Sure," I replied as I let go of my hard dick. A fraction of a second later Dylan was tentatively wrapping his fingers around my dick. His touch was a bit lighter than I would have preferred, but he got into a spectacular rhythm in no time.

"If you want, I could rub yours while you rub mine?" I offered.

He gave a funny look before saying, "Ben said I wouldn't be able to shoot `cause I'm too young..."

"Just because you're too young for anything to shoot out doesn't mean it won't feel good,' I informed him.

"Oh...okay," he said as he let go of my dick. He promptly yanked his shorts and tightie-whities all the way down, before stepping out of them, and hanging them on one of the woody branches sticking out of the back of the bush.

Despite the fact that Dylan and Ben were the same age and about the same height, Dylan's dick was probably fifteen-percent bigger than Ben's: I have to admit that did surprise me. I wrapped the fingers of my left hand around his hard, too-big for a ten-year-old dick and began stroking its shaft at the exact same time that he put his hand back on my dick.

Not more than ten seconds later, Dylan said, "You're right: that does feel good."

"Ben and Joe have probably done this every day since I babysat them," I heard myself saying: realizing that I probably shouldn't have been saying anything about what my other charges were up to.

I was relieved when he said, "If I had a brother I would..."

Perhaps twenty second passed before I felt my butt cheeks tighten, signaling the beginning of my orgasm. "Watch now," I groaned as my balls pulled up. An instant later I could feel the cum surging up the little tube on the underside of my dick. After a short fraction of a second the first spurt of hot, thick, sticky, creamy-white, sperm-laden cum shot out of the little hole at the tip of my thirteen-year-old dick. It fountained up nearly a foot into the air, before slamming into one of the woody branches on the back of the bush. Despite the way Dylan's jaw fell open in disbelief, he continued stroking my thirteen-year-old dick.

A second later the second spurt followed the same trajectory as the first... Tilting my head back, I took a deep breath just before the third spurt blasted up into the air. Closing my eyes almost completely I let the wave of pleasure surge through my body as a fourth spurt of my hot, thick, sticky, creamy-white, sperm-laden thirteen-year-old cum shot out of the little hole at the tip of my dick. It was followed by a fifth, a sixth, a seventh and finally, a decidedly small eighth spurt. It was among the biggest orgasms I'd ever had.

"So...what ya...think?" I panted out as my dick began to soften in his hand.

"That was...amazing..." he replied in an almost dazed sounding voice. Barely half a second after he finished saying those words, he gasped and said, "Something's happening..."

Suddenly I felt his too-big for a ten-year-old dick begin to swell in my hand. For a fraction of a second I wondered what was going on; then I noticed a glob of white goo ooze out of the little hole at the tip of his dick. A second later another glob oozed out. A second after that a third, noticeably smaller, glob oozed out. I couldn't believe it: a ten year old boy had shot actual creamy white cum!

"What...happened?" he gasped. "Did I...just... shoot?"

"Yea: you just did," I answered; still in a state of near disbelief, before adding, "I didn't think a ten-year-old could..." "I'll be eleven on Wednesday of next week," Dylan said, "Could that be why?"

I didn't think it was possible for an eleven year old boy to shoot cum either, but I couldn't think of another explanation; so I said, "Yea; that's gotta be it... Some birthday present: hunh?"

"Best one I ever got," Dylan beamed. He looked down at his almost completely soft dick and asked, "It'll be a while before I can shoot again, right?"

"That it will," I replied with an authoritative snort.

We stood there behind the large bush for a few seconds in silence before Dylan suggested, "Wanna go swimming `til we're able to shoot again?" as he lifted his shorts and underpants off the branch.

We had begun making our way back out from behind the large bush when the problem with that idea hit me, "I don't have a bathing suit with me."

"Oh..." he began to say. Then a few seconds later, when we were both in the backyard proper, no longer behind the bush, he offered, "You could wear one of my bathing suits."

Had I only thought about what he was really offering before I said, "Yeah sure." It did sound like a good idea; except for the part where I was about five inches taller than Dylan and probably weighed in excess of twenty pounds more than him...

After thoroughly wiping our bare feet on the door mat, we quickly made our way through the house to his bedroom. Dylan opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled out two very conventional looking bathing suits: one blue, the other red. "The red one is a little looser; it'll fit you better," he commented as he handed me the red bathing suit.

Considering our size difference what he'd just said made plenty of sense. A moment after he'd finished speaking we were both stripping down. Dylan easily pulled the blue bathing suit on. I, on the other hand, found myself having more than a bit of trouble getting the red one up my legs. Actually getting it up to, then over my knees was fairly easy; but as the waistband got about half-way up my thighs it became apparent that the bathing suit wasn't going to fit me.

"There's no way I'm getting these on," I commented as I began pulling the bathing suit Dylan had offered me back down my legs.

"So what are you gonna wear to swim in?" he asked as I stepped out of the bathing suit.

"These shorts dry-out pretty quickly," I replied as I picked up the nylon shorts I had been wearing.

As I put my feet through the leg holes in my shorts, Dylan said, "You forgot your underpants."

"They take lots longer to dry; I'll put `em back on after we finish swimming," I explained while pulling my nylon shorts up my legs.

Just as I let the elastic waistband snap over my hips Dylan commented, "It's been a couple years since I wore pants without underpants; not since..." he trailed off.

As we left his bedroom I asked, "Since what?" He began speaking, "Since..." before trailing off and quickly changing the subject, "Well...I... Nobody knows about it; so promise not to tell anybody?"

"Yeah, sure: I promise," I replied.

"Okay...so, a couple weeks before Halloween, not last year, but the year before; I was at the park..." he trailed off before taking a deep breath, as if to build up the confidence to tell me the rest, before saying, "I pooped my pants. I went into the woods took my pants and underpants off, used the front of my underpants to clean up my butt, and put my pants back on; then I threw the dirty underpants in the trashcan near the swings." The instant he'd finished speaking he exhaled a little sigh.

I stopped dead in my tracks at the top of the stairs before saying, "Uhm Dylan, I did know about that...I think everybody does..."

"Oh..." he stammered, before saying, "So if everybody knows, why didn't anybody make fun of me?"

"We all have accidents every now and then," I tried to reassure him.

"But if it had happened to somebody else, and I knew, I would've made fun of them," he responded.

I did my best to not laugh, before explaining, "You didn't cry about it; you did what you had to do to take care of the situation...people respect that..."

"Yea...I guess," he mused, as we headed out to the pool.

We splashed around in the pool for a few minutes without saying a word before Dylan spoke up, "So what we did behind the bushes..."

"You mean jerking off?" I half asked.

"Is that what it's called?" he asked.

"There's other manes for it, but yeah," I explained.

"Oh. So when... No, to..." he began to stammer before taking another deep breath and definitively asking, "So the stuff that shot out of our dicks: what's the deal with that stuff? Joe said it makes babies?" "Yeah, well..." I began to explain, "So you know that boys have a dick and balls between their legs. Well, girls have this hole called a pussy..."

"So girls have two butt holes?" he asked.

"Kinda, I guess, but they go to different places inside their bodies," I began explaining. "If a boy puts his dick into a girl's pussy and shoots his cum in there, at very special times the cum can make a girl pregnant..."

"So the bush won't have a baby because we shot our cum on it?" Dylan half asked.

"No the bush is not going to have a baby..." I replied half laughing, before definitively saying, "The cum has to go in a girl's pussy."

"So if my cum gets on you or your cum gets on me, there won't be a baby?" Dylan said: clearly trying to get his head around what he'd just learned.

"We're both boys: so no baby," I reiterated, "and even if one of us was a girl, the cum has to go into her pussy..."

"Oh, okay: cool," he replied before going back to splashing around in the pool.

Again we splashed around in the pool with saying a word.

Several minutes later, Dylan again broke the silence by saying, "I gotta pee; be right back," before climbing out of the pool.

"You gotta dry-off before going in the house," I reminded him as he was lifting his foot out of the water.

A fraction of a second later, after he had both of his feet out of the water, Dylan said, "I'm not going in the house," giving me a confused look.

"But you said you gotta pee?" I questioned.

"Yea, Dad gets mad if anybody pees in the pool, and Mom gets mad if any water or dirt gets tracked into the house: so I get out of the pool, pee in my swimsuit, then once I stop peeing jump back in the pool," he casually explained.

Before I could even say the word `oh' or have time to fully process what he'd said, a whole bunch of liquid began literally pouring out of the bottom of his swimming trunks.

About five seconds after the flow of liquid began; it came to an abrupt end. At which point he said, "That's better," before jumping back into the pool.

"You do that whenever you have to pee if you're in the pool?" I asked, a bit perplexed by what I'd just witnessed.

"For the past year: yeah," he began explaining. "Before that I would go over to the bushes next to the house," he said while pointing towards the same bushes at the corner of the house we had gone behind so I could shoot my load of cum, "Back then I'd pull the front of my swimsuit down and pee into the bush...."

"Why'd you stop doing that?" I asked, interrupting him.

"If I didn't shoot the pee far enough into the bush the ground I was standing on would get wet and I'd end up standing in mud..." he began explaining.

"Ough...messy," I thought aloud.

"Yea," he said, "plus this way is lots faster..."

We splashed around a bit in the pool for several minutes before Dylan asked, "What do you do if you have to pee when you're in a pool?"

"Usually I just go in the pool," I honestly answered.

"Really?" he said: a decided hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah: really. I think that's what most people do..." I explained. Still seeing a look of disbelief on his face, I added, "Although what you just did looked kinda fun," in hopes of changing the subject. "It makes my bathing suit feel warm until I jump back in the water," he commented.

"Warm..." I thought out loud.

"Yeah; warm," Dylan reiterated, "Why?"

Shaking my head I said, "I just had a crazy idea: in the winter, peeing pants just a little to make them warm..." I tried to laugh off the insane idea I'd just admitted to having had.

"Can you keep a secret?" Dylan asked me.

"Course I can," I replied. As I spoke those words, all of the secrets I'd learned while babysitting went roaring through my mind: Ben and Joe not wearing underpants after bathing, Ben and Joe sucking on each other's dicks, Ben jerking me off, me sucking on Joe's dick, Dwight peeing on the kitchen floor, Dwight letting me pee on his kitchen floor, all the things Mz. Collins told me, Cami and Tara playing doctor with each other...

Dylan glanced around, as if he thought someone might be watching us, before quietly saying, "You know the fourth grade school trip to Battlefield Park?"

"Of course, why?" I asked.

For a second time in less than a minute he glanced around, and then said, "Well, when my grade went; these two girls were complaining about being cold for the first half of the day. Then Veronica whispered something to Bridget. For a while the two of them were away from the rest of the group, and afterwards they didn't complain about being cold at all."

"You think they peed their pants for the warmth?" I asked.

"I know they did: afterward their shoes made a squishing sound when they were walking, and when they got off the bus I saw two wet spots on the seat where they'd been sitting..." he told me.

"Why's that such a big secret for you?" I asked.

"It isn't," Dylan informed me before adding, "But the next day was real cold and while waiting at the bus stop in the morning, I tried it: nobody knows, so don't tell anybody."

"Don't worry: I won't tell anybody," I replied, "But I gotta know: did it work?"

"It worked until I got off the school bus; then it felt kinda cold the rest of the day," he explained.

"That sucks," I replied.

Dylan shrugged as he said, "Yeah," but then he added, "But it's weird: the two girls, since then I've heard the same squishing sound when they're walking a bunch of times since then...and all the time in the winter..."

"Maybe they found a way for it not to get cold," I thought out loud.

"Maybe..." he tentatively mused.

All the talk of people peeing, was giving me the urge to let loose; so without saying a word I began climbing out of the pool.

"You gotta pee?" he asked.

"Yup," I replied just after standing up next the pool. I took a breath and released my bladder: flooding my nylon shorts with warm piss. "You're right: it does feel warm," I commented.

A moment later, with my bladder empty, I jumped back into the water.

"And every day; during the last weeks of school Bridget and Veronica were wearing short skirts made of material like your shorts and their shoes were making the squishing sounds every time they walked..." Dylan continued telling me.

"Really?" I pondered.

"Ya know what's real weird though?" he asked after the water in the pool had settled down.

"What?" I asked.

Dylan looked around again, before quietly saying, "On a couple separate occasions I saw liquid running down the inside of their legs and into their shoes..." he took a breath before saying, "and the couple times I saw that, my dick got all long and hard in my pants..."

Smiling a big smile I quietly teased, "You like the idea of a girl peeing herself..." "What: no..." he quickly cut me off. "Dylan, geez: I'm just messing with you," I tried to calm him down, before adding, "Girls pee out of their pussies; so you're supposed to find

that interesting."

There was an awkward silence for a couple seconds before Dylan asked, "Why would I find that interesting?"

Now it was my turn to look around to make sure no one would overhear what we were saying, before I offered an explanation, "So, when a boy jerks off, he's actually tricking his dick into thinking its inside a girl's pussy. And a guy's dick wants to be inside a girl's pussy; that's why jerking off feels so good..."

"Oh..." Dylan began speaking. A strange look appeared on his face before he took a breath and said, "But I don't wanna make a baby with a girl..."

Thinking as I was speaking, I replied, "Of course you don't; I don't want to either. That's why we jerk off: no baby."

He half chuckled before asking, "You ever put your dick in a girl's pussy?"

"Yeah: once... Well two different girls, but I only put my dick in each of their pussies one time," I heard myself saying.

"You shoot your white stuff in them?" he asked.

Having already admitted part of what I'd done with the Wiener girls, I couldn't exactly put the toothpaste back in the tube, so I decided to answer honestly, "I shot a load of cum in both of them," then anticipating what his next question was likely to be, I added, "And no, I didn't make a baby with either of them."

"That's good," Dylan responded. He glanced down then said, "I think both of us are ready to shoot again."

I looked down into the water: the front of Dylan's bathing suit was tented out, as was the front of my shorts. "I think we might be," I began to comment, before adding, "Must have been all the talk about girls' pussies..." with a little laugh.

Barely half a second after I'd finished speaking; Dylan was pulling his bathing suit off while still in the water. Before I could fully process what he was doing, he had tossed his bathing suit over the edge of the pool, grabbed the waistband of my shorts and had pulled them about halfway down my thighs.

"What are you doing?" I asked as the waistband of my shorts began to graze the top of my knees.

Dylan stopped pulling my shorts down and responded, "We can't go behind the bushes to jerk off..."

"Why can't we?" I found myself asking.

Looking at me like I was a moron, he explained, "We're wet: if we go behind the bushes we'll be standing in mud long before we shoot."

"Ahh..." I mused aloud before asking "So?"

"We can jerk off in the pool: no mess that way," Dylan suggested.

"I thought your father didn't want anybody peeing in the pool?" I half questioned.

"Right, but we're not peeing: we're jerking off," he began saying before adding, "And if we shoot into the filter skimmer, the filter will take care of the mess."

I thought for a second before saying "Okay." The instant I had giving him the `green light', Dylan pulled my shorts the rest of the way down my legs. I quickly got my feet out of my shorts as we waded over to the pool's one and only filter skimmer.

Once at the side of the pool, next to the filter skimmer, I tossed my shorts. Just as my shots were landing next to Dylan's bathing suit, I felt his fingers begin to wrap around the shaft of my completely hard thirteen-year-old dick. I quickly grabbed hold of his hard, too-big-for-a-ten-year-old dick.

In short order, we were moving our fists up-and-down the lengths of each other's dicks. Having my dick completely submerged underwater while being jerked off felt different: not better, not worse; just different. "This is the first time I ever jerked off under water," I commented.

"It's pretty good: I'll probably do it every time I go swimming," Dylan responded before asking, "Who are the two girls who's pussies you put your dick into?"

`CRAP' I silently thought: I had been hoping he wouldn't ask. I quickly concluded it would be a bad idea to tell him that it was Cami and Tara: it wasn't so much that I thought I'd get in trouble for `playing doctor' with them, I was more concerned that he'd ask them if he could put his dick in their pussies like I had. So I tried to work around the question by saying, "Guys aren't supposed to tell other guys what girls they've put their dicks into."

"Oh... I, ah, didn't know that," he replied: seeming to accept what I'd just told him.

We continued stroking each other's dicks in silence for about thirty seconds before he asked, "Is it okay if I ask when and if I know the girls?"

"Sure," I answered before telling him a complete and total lie, "Back at the holiday break, and I don't think you know them."

We continued stroking each other's dicks in silence for about twenty seconds before I found myself asking, "If you don't want to put you dick in a girl's pussy; why do you want to know?"

Dylan shrugged a little before saying, "I don' know: curious I guess..." Something about the way his voice sounded as he spoke those words made me think he wasn't telling me the whole reason. I figured if he wanted to tell me, he'd tell me: so I let it drop. And we continued stroking each other's dicks in silence.

Perhaps a minute later he asked, "You kissed the girls you put your dick in?"

I honestly answered, "Yes."

Before I could wonder why he'd asked that, Dylan began speaking, "Over the holidays my cousin Matt, he's sixteen, said something about how girls expect guys to be good at kissing..."

The comment Mz. Collins had made about how the guy she had gone on the date with had been a good kisser popped into my mind; so I found myself saying, "Girls definitely give a guy extra points if he's a good kisser..."

"So if girls care about guys being good kissers..." Dylan trailed off.

"What?" I asked.

A fraction of a second later I felt Dylan's too-big-for-a-ten-year-old dick expand a bit in my hand. "Shooting..." he groaned. I quickly looked down to see a wispy little white rope shoot out of the little hole at the tip of his dick. The filter skimmer quickly pulled that rope of cum away from his dick just as a second one shot out.

"That looks...really neat..." he commented as the third spurt of cum shot out of his dick.

Barely two milliseconds after Dylan had finished speaking, I felt my butt cheeks tighten. "About to shoot..." I gasped.

Dylan surprised me by squeezing harder on my dick at the exact instant that the first spurt of my cum began surging up the little tube on the underside of my dick. His tighter grip was preventing my cum from getting all the way to the little hole at the tip of my dick. Having that spurt of cum stuck in the little tube on the underside of my dick was slightly painful, but not having known that it was possible to hold a spurt of cum in like that, curiosity was beating out pain: so I said nothing.

I watched the fourth spurt of Dylan's cum shoot out of his dick, forming yet another wispy little white rope in the water as I felt the second spurt of my own cum backing up behind the first in the little tube on the underside of my dick.

"How come you're not shooting?" he asked.

"You're holding it in," I did my best to explain.

Hearing that, Dylan loosened his grip somewhat and the biggest single spurt of cum I'd ever seen came rocketing out of the little hole at the tip of my dick. The wispy white rope which appeared in the water must have been a full nine inches long!

"Whoa!..." Dylan exclaimed.

A mere fraction of a second after that word passed his lips, a single normal sized spurt of cum shot out of the little hole at the tip of my dick. A second wispy white rope formed in the water; this one was at most two inches long.

In short order two more spurts of my hot, thick, sticky, creamy-white, sperm-laden, thirteen-year-old cum shot out of my dick. Both of those spurts, forming its own wispy white rope in the water.

"Can you make mine shoot out in one long shot?" he asked as he let go of my softening dick.

"I...I can try..." I said through a deep breath, before adding, "But you'll have to tell me when you're about to shoot."

"Um-kay..." he said, sounding like he wasn't entirely sure what I had meant.

Throughout the course of my own orgasm and our bit of discussion I continued moving my fist up-and-down the length of Dylan's too-big for a ten-year-old dick.

Then, perhaps fifty seconds after I had finished shooting my load of cum, Dylan commented, "I think I might shoot soon."

Barely a second later I could feel his dick begin to throb in my hand. since he had ask me to make his cum shoot out in a single big spurt, I pinched the tips of my index finger and thumb together over the little tube on the underside of his dick just below the bottom of its helmet-shaped head. I could see a look of discomfort on his face; but since he wanted his entire load of cum to shoot out in a single big spurt, I maintained my pinch on the little tube on the underside of his dick. I could feel the pressure of the cum backing up in the tube behind my finger and thumb.

Then, once I felt the familiar orgasmic pulsations in his dick begin to die-down, I quickly let go of Dylan's dick. In that instant, a wispy white rope came shooting out of the little hole at the tip of his dick. That one single rope of cum shot through the water: the tip of it actually disappearing into the pool's filter skimmer before the last of it had gotten out of his dick.

Dylan and I stood there in silence for the two or so minutes it took for all of the cum we had shot in the water to disappear into the filter skimmer. "I am so doing that again tomorrow..." he declared.

"Looked like it hurt..." I commented.

"It did a little, but it was worth it," Dylan replied before suggesting, "We should get dried off," as he began to climb out of the pool.

Realizing that I had no idea what time it was, and therefore not knowing how soon Mrs. Beaver might be returning, I didn't object to Dylan's suggestion and climbed out of the pool.

We pushed the water that had clung to us down or bodies with our hands until we were only marginally damp.

While the bathing suit Dylan had been wearing was still quite wet, my nylon shorts were mostly dry. So, when we stopped in the bathroom for towels to dry out hair, he put the bathing suit he'd been wearing in the tub to dry. Once dry, we headed back to his bedroom and got dressed, before going back downstairs and watching more TV.

Perhaps fifteen minutes after we put or clothes back on, Mrs. Beaver returned home. She thanked me again for coming by on such short notice and paid me. And with that, I left my fourth babysitting job.

Comments

Nickname	Date	Feedback

Leave a comment

Writers love to hear from their readers, so please leave a comment about this story for this guy. If you leave your email address, it will be kept in strict confidence; we won't publish it online unless you want us to.

Also, if you like this story, you should consider posting a Reader's Recommendation. Share the love! You will be asked for the URL to the story, so make sure you copy that before following the link.

Leave a comment on Being A Boy Babysitter, part 4 Nickname (optional): Email (optional; will not be published): Subject: Comments: (Please note that we reserve the right to publish comments on my web site at my discretion.)