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Archive name: teddys.txt (Mm, ped, 1st)
Authors name: Abby Mac (abb.mac@ntlworld.com)
Story title : Teddy's Story

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
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Thank you for your consideration.
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Teddy's Story (Mm, ped, 1st)
by Abby Mac (abb.mac@ntlworld.com)

***

A young boy learns the pleasure of his gender from a 
mature man.

***

Back then it was safe for youngsters to be out late. 
Looking back I never remember hearing that children had 
been abducted, or raped or murdered as they are today. I 
was never warned, as parents must warn today, that there 
were evil men who would harm us, and that we must be 
suspicious of anyone we didn't know, that we must not 
talk to strangers, that under no circumstances were we to 
go with them, anywhere, at any time, day or evening.

I now know that men who got pleasure from a sexual 
relationship with a young person were careful to be 
friendly, even to be friendly with parents. They were 
gentle. They knew that if they made certain advances they 
would be rejected by most, but the advance wasn't such 
that it could interpreted as 'abuse' in today's sense. 
With the right response from the youngster, they knew 
that they could slowly take the relationship further, 
until they had a willing, perhaps enthusiastic, partner.

My Dad was a blue-collar worker for a large public 
utility company. The firm provided many benefits - access 
to libraries, sports grounds, athletic tracks and not 
least, a clubhouse for employees. The club had, in 
addition to a bar, dartboards, card tables, table top 
skittles and such like. In a separate room were two 
snooker/billiards tables. In the days after the war and 
before TV, this was an important social centre, and there 
were many teams, male and female, which competed in 
various sporting leagues.

At that time I would be about 10 or 11. My older brother 
- Fred aged 18 - was in the navy, and I had an older 
sister - Susan aged 20. Our home was in a terrace of 
working class houses and had three bedrooms, identical to 
all the rest of the houses in our neighbourhood.

We lived close enough to the club for it to be an easy 
walk and as dad was a member of several teams (he 
particularly enjoyed cards and snooker) we would go there 
frequently. Fridays and Saturdays were the regular 
evenings and my Mum would sit with her friends (there was 
a 'ladies corner') and have a good chat. Dad would sit 
with his mates and play cards or dominoes, and of course 
snooker.

Friday was usually fairly quiet I remember, and I would 
watch the men and try to understand their play. One of 
them was named Reg, a friend of my Dad's. He was so much 
a friend that I called him "Uncle Reg."

Reg was single and lived with his sister, also single, in 
a street which ran parallel with ours. As we walked to 
the club he would come out and walk with us, and was 
always very pleasant and would buy the first drink when 
we arrived. He always got me a large soft drink, and 
whenever he saw it empty he would buy me another.

He was kind in other ways. He would sit patiently and 
teach me some of the domino and card games, and I thought 
of him as an adult that I liked and who treated me 'a bit 
grown up.'

In those days there were no jeans or casual clothes of 
that kind. Boys wore short, loose waisted grey trousers, 
buttoned at the fly and held up by an elasticated belt, 
fastened with an 'S' shaped clip in the image of a snake. 
When their mother became aware that they were into 
puberty they were switched to long trousers. This of 
course was seen as an entry into manhood! Much, I 
suppose, as a girl getting her first bra.

I was still at the 'shorts' stage.

Drinking so much fizzy drinks made me continually need to 
pee, and often Reg would go at the same time.

The ladies had indoor 'facilities', but males had to go 
outside and along a gravel path to a urinal. This 
consisted of a trough in the floor, and one peed against 
a tar-coated wall. It was quite roomy to allow for the 
times that the place was crowded, but it was lit only 
with a dim blue bulb, which was a hangover from the war 
years. No one had got round to changing it for any 
brighter light. I think the men might have objected 
anyway, because the blue dimness gave a uniqueness 
compared with other clubs. It was masculine a joke. It 
was known throughout the sports leagues. No other could 
compare with theirs.
The blue-light-illuminated urinal was known familiarly as 
'the blue lagoon.'

As we left the rear of the club and crunched over the 
gravel path, Reg had started to put his arm around my 
shoulders and I accepted this as natural.

I never undid the flies of my trousers. To pee I simply 
pulled up the baggy short leg, and pulled myself out of 
my equally baggy underpants. If I wanted them down, I 
unclipped the snake belt and pulled the loose trousers 
down over my narrow hips. Providing there were no other 
men in the urinal, Reg would normally stand right next to 
me. He would very deliberately unfasten the buttons of 
his fly, pull apart his trousers and take out his cock. 
With a little more fumbling, he pulled out his ball sac 
and stood, turned slightly towards me, his fingers moving 
softly on his manhood.

At first I tried to look away, but I couldn't resist 
trying to see what a man looked like out of the corner of 
my eye. He didn't say anything, merely had his pee, then 
pulled hard on himself, shook it, and slowly replaced it 
in his trousers. Then he would look at me and smile, and 
I would smile back. This continued to happen for two or 
three evenings.

One night I went out followed by Reg. His hand on my 
shoulder was gentle, caressing and he pulled me to him as 
we walked. There was no one else in the blue lagoon. As 
usual Reg stood closely by my side. He took himself out 
and by this time I no longer made any effort to look 
away. In fact I blatantly watched as he pulled on 
himself.

I finished my pee and let my trouser leg fall. I was 
about to turn away when his hand reached down and rested 
on my far hip. He pulled me close. I made no effort to 
move away as his fingers curled under the leg of my 
trousers and lifted them up. His fingers slipped inside 
my underpants and he wiggled them about, brushing my 
prick. He said "tickle, tickle, tickle" and indeed it 
did. I giggled and hunched myself. He took his hand away 
and again caressed my shoulder. We walked back inside the 
club.

For the rest of that evening, each time I went out he 
would follow. He was I suppose very careful not to make 
it obvious, but he must have had a watchful eye out for 
me. If another man were there, he would stand well away 
and would chat in a natural way. If the man left quickly, 
he would move to my side. Each time he would lift my 
trouser leg, and his fingers would dance lightly over my 
prick and tight little balls. Each time it became more 
pleasurable for me, and I stood still and let him do as 
he wished.

"Is that nice?" he asked. I whispered, "yes."

"Do you like what I'm doing?"

"Yes," I gasped as he pulled gently on me.

All the time he was touching me, his other hand was 
pulling on his cock. Even in the dim glow I could see 
that it was thickening and swelling.

"Can you see mine growing?" he said softly.

I could only gasp out that I could. "You are making that 
happen to me, it's because of you that it's getting hard. 
Would you like to feel what you are making it do?"

I didn't say anything. I just stood and watched this 
incredible thing grow in front of my eyes.

Still feeling my tiny cock, his other hand took hold of 
one of mine and placed it on himself. His fingers wrapped 
around mine and he moved my hand, up and down, up and 
down. I could hear his laboured breathing and he said, 
"That feels good. That's very very good. Your fingers 
feel so nice on me. Can you do it without me holding your 
hand? Can you, Teddy?"

"Yes, Uncle Reg," I whispered back and I continued to 
move my hand along his hard, hot shaft. It felt as 
nothing else had ever felt. Silky smooth, very hot, and 
as I pulled it, I felt it sort of jump over a bump before 
the skin covered the end of it.

He put his hand back over mine and began to rub faster, 
harder. Then he was making a soft grunting noise and his 
hips were jerking backwards and forwards. The cock in my 
hand was throbbing and pulsing, and after a minute he let 
go of me.

"Have you got any on your hand?" he asked.

"Any what?" I asked.

"Is your hand wet and sticky?"

"No, Uncle Reg."

"Ok, you go back inside. Don't tell anybody what we've 
done, will you. This is just a secret between Uncle Reg 
and you. Just a secret between men, hey?"

Later that evening he was playing cards with my Dad. 
"I've been talking to young Teddy, Jack. He's interested 
in the night sky, and the planes we used to look out for. 
I'm going to bring my binoculars next Friday and show him 
some stars if it's OK with you." My Dad was quite happy 
with that, it seemed innocent enough.

Uncle Reg and Dad had been Air Raid Wardens in the war, 
and used to patrol the streets during the blackout. Then 
Uncle Reg became a 'Spotter', looking out for enemy 
planes and reporting by phone to an AA gun battery. I was 
thrilled that I was going to be shown how to use the 
powerful binoculars.

The following Friday there was almost no moon, but the 
sky was clear, the stars brilliant in the darkness. Uncle 
Reg had his binoculars with him and I was desperate to 
see through them. I was pretty excited, not sexually, but 
at the thought of what I might see through them. The men 
were laughing at my excitement and eventually Uncle Reg 
said "Oh come on then. I'll never get any peace until 
you've had a go."

We went out together, into the club yard. He led me 
around the side of the club, where crates of empty beer 
bottles waited for collection.

"Now listen to me, Teddy. These are very expensive 
glasses. I'm going to keep the strap round my neck so 
that if you drop them, they won't fall. You'll have to 
stand on a couple of beer crates so that you are high 
enough."

He put one crate on top of another and easily lifted me 
up. I had my back to him and he put the strap of the 
binoculars over my head. I took hold of the glasses 
excitedly and the crates wobbled slightly under my feet. 
He put his arms around my waist to steady me.

I had my back pressed into his chest and stomach and with 
one hand he showed me how to adjust them to my eyes. His 
hands were now resting lightly on my hips.

I was aware of his left hand as it slipped gently down, 
over my hip. It brushed on the outside of my upper thigh. 
It slipped lower, still with a stroking movement. His 
fingers had now reached the bottom of my trouser leg and 
dipped inside. Then they were gliding up, inside my 
trousers, now inside my underpants and I knew again the 
excitement in my groin as his fingers began to stroke and 
pull at my prick and balls.

His right arm was around my waist, holding me close. His 
breath was warm as he panted against my neck. My 
breathing was getting ragged, and my body began to 
tremble, my mouth dry.

He moved slightly away from me, but still fondled my 
boyhood. His right hand was now between us, and I could 
feel his hand in the small of my back as he fumbled with 
his trousers.

Then both of his hands were at my waist. I realised that 
he was unclipping my belt. It was undone and he began 
tugging at my shorts, pulling them down over my thighs. 
My underpants came with them and I knew the chill of the 
night air on my bare skin.

One hand now cupped my naked cock and balls and he used 
this to pull me close to him. I felt his other hand 
between us and his hot hard man's cock being rubbed up 
and down the cleft between my cheeks.

His hand left my cock, gripped me tightly round the 
middle. He lifted me slightly and his other hand tugged 
my legs apart on the crates. I now stood with legs 
straddled, the night air between my legs.

Still holding me tight, his other hand was now back on 
his cock. In the cool night it seemed to burn against me. 
It was so hard it could push my cheeks apart and suddenly 
it was gliding up and down in his hand, up and down, 
rubbing all along the join between my legs. I knew it was 
wet, I knew it was slipping easily along me. Each time it 
passed my bottom hole I felt myself twitch.

He stopped rubbing along me. He held it still against my 
bottom while his hand began to beat up and down along the 
length of his manhood. There was again the low grunting, 
again the thrusting, jerking of his hips. Hot wetness 
spurted against my tight hole and began to run down my 
legs. He was gasping and so was I. My cock felt different 
from anything else that I had experienced. It was like a 
little bone, hard, thrusting out.

"Oh, Teddy. That was the most wonderful thing. Are you 
OK?"

"Yes, Uncle Reg, but I feel funny down there."

"I think I know what you need, but I don't know if you 
can do it yet. Let me play with you and see if it gets 
any better. But first we'd better get you cleaned up."

He pulled a cloth out of his pocket and started to wipe 
all around my bottom. He was very careful between my 
cheeks and asked if he could make sure I was dry.

He told me to stand with my side towards him and to bend 
over. When I did he felt between my legs, all the way to 
the back and then his fingertip touched against my bottom 
hole. He pressed gently and I tightened against his 
touch.

"Another time, another time," he said so quietly I only 
just heard what he said.

Then he fastened himself up and said we should go back in 
the clubroom.

"Would you like another go with the glasses?" he asked.

"Yes, please Uncle Reg."

His teeth showed in the semi darkness as he smiled down 
at me.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 20