Date: Sun, 6 Mar 2011 12:47:02 +1000
From: Jeff Albertson <albertson194@gmail.com>
Subject: Andrew's Outing

Andrew's Outing

A story by plantagenet

Disclaimer: This story, and all its characters, is fictional. It is
intended for adult amusement only. Not to be taken internally. Use as
directed.


Mrs Fletcher quickly ascended the three steps to the door of the police
station, dragging her son behind her. Stopping at the charge desk, she
demanded to see a detective immediately. The desk sergeant showed her and
the boy into an interview room, where they were soon joined by Detective
(3rd Grade) Goodwin. He slid an "Occupied" sign across the tin plate on the
front of the door before closing it behind him.

"Morning ma'am, what can I do for you today?" he asked cheerfully as he
strolled into the small room and seated himself opposite her and her son.

Mrs Fletcher brightened visibly. She was immediately impressed by
Det. Goodwin - he looked like a real go-getter, not some burnt-out old hack
merely hanging on until his pension was due. "Ah, Detective, thank you for
finding the time to see me. It's my son, Andrew, I think he's been
molested."

Det Goodwin's demeanour became instantly more serious as he turned his gaze
towards the boy.  "Molested, eh? What makes you think that, ma'am? Not that
I don't believe you, I just need to hear you say it - you were the first on
the scene after all, and your observations may be very valuable."

Mrs Fletcher straightened her back in pride. Here was one policeman who
recognised her worth right off, she thought. "Well, detective, two days ago
I let Andrew go across the road to the big park to play, there's all sorts
of entertainment there for a boy after all, it's got trees, plenty of open
spaces, swings and roundabouts and so on, as I'm sure you're aware. I
wasn't expecting him back until lunchtime, but within the hour he returned,
minus his shirt, his hair all mussed up, and a suspicious stain on the back
of his shorts. I cleaned him up and tried to get some sense out of him, but
eventually I gave up and brought him here. I have his shorts in this bag,
here, for you."

Det Goodwin took the plastic bag from the woman, and placed it on the
table. He then turned directly to the boy, now taking in more of the
victim's appearance. About nine years of age, he figured, with longish
ginger-blonde hair, skinny build, freckles - queer-bait if ever he saw it,
Goodwin thought, but what he said was "How about it, son? No need to be
afraid, just tell us what happened this morning in the park". The boy's
mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

The detective looked at the boy's mother, hoping for some clue, but all she
could do was shake her head. "He's been like this since he came back from
the park - completely mute. Normally you can't shut him up. I couldn't get
a single word out of him. Was it the, er, stress of the, uh, incident, do
you think?"

"Well, anything's possible, Ma'am. Luckily, I'm fully trained for
circumstances such as these." He reached out and drew the boy into his
arms, cuddling him closely and running his fingers through the boy's mop of
hair. "First, I'll get his confidence, let him know he has nothing to fear
from me. I do that by holding him close and caressing him, you know,
bonding physically with him".

Mrs Fletcher smiled. She was comforted by the officer's air of
assurance. She wondered whether Detective Goodwin was married as she
watched the man rub his hands over her son's body, nuzzling his neck,
stroking his cheek, caressing his inner thighs and squeezing his
bottom. Andrew began to visibly relax in the man's strong arms.

"I think he's ready for the next stage", he whispered to the boy's
mother. To the boy, he said "Now Andrew, we're just going to go over what
happened to you that day in the park, so that we can find out who did this
to you.. You haven't done anything wrong, don't be worried about that, but
we just need to find the man that did this to you, so he won't frighten any
other little boys. Now you don't have to say anything if you're not ready
to, just nod if you mean `yes,' or shake your head if you mean `no'. Now,
do you know who did this to you?"

Andrew did not indicate any answer, he just lay back in the policeman's
arms.

"Hmm. This might be a little harder than I expected. But not to worry, Mrs
Fletcher, as I said, I am trained for this. I think instead of words, I'll
have to act out my questions. That should trigger your son's memory." He
eased the boy off his lap and stood him on the floor . "Now Andrew, did the
man in the park take your clothes off?"

Again, the boy just stood there with a dreamy look on his face.

"Maybe I should take smaller steps", the policeman remarked, reaching out
for the buttons on the boy's shirt. Andrew watched the man's big fingers
undo his buttons from neck to waist, then run his palms up Andrew's bare
tummy and chest to his shoulders, edging the garment off the boy's bony
torso. "Did the man do this?" he asked the boy, and was rewarded with an
affirmative nod.

Det Goodwin turned to Mrs Fletcher with a big smile. "I think we're making
progress," he grinned, and she beamed back at him. How encouraging to deal
with a man who knows what he is doing, she thought. Andrew's shirt plopped
onto the floor as the detective slipped his fingers inside the elastic
waist of Andrew's shorts. "Did he pull your pants down too?" he asked, and
was given another nod by the boy. The policeman pulled the stretchy elastic
waistband of the shorts and lowered them to the boy's ankles, whereupon
Andrew dutifully stepped out of them. The detective saw a pointy protrusion
in the front of Andrew's undies, and relished his next move.

"Mrs Fletcher, do you remember whether Andrew was boned up, er, had an
erection when he came back from the park that day? Because he sure has one
now" Detective Goodwin asked as he groped and squeezed the boy's little
bulge with his large fleshy hand.

Mrs Fletcher grimaced. "Oh, that? I don't recall seeing his little penis,
er, in that, uh, condition before - though, come to think of it, the day he
visited the park, I think he had one then too...I noticed it when I gave
him a hot bath after...his ordeal - but of course, he's just a little boy,
it doesn't... you know, mean anything..."

The bath would have removed most of the forensic evidence, Goodwin
thought. The detective smiled at her. "We'll soon see, won't we. Andrew,
now try to remember - did the man pull your underpants down...like this?"
He grasped the sides of the boy's undies at the waist , his thumbs just
grazing the boy's hips, before drawing the garment down Andrew's
thighs. The boy gasped as his boner was first bent downwards, then sprung
forth into the fresh air. The detective dragged the garment all the way
down the boy's thighs to the floor, letting the boy step out of the undies
before putting them on top of the growing pile of clothes. Andrew's skinny
penis stood up with a slight inward curve, its circumcised head small and
darkly pink.

"I think we're making some real strides here, Mrs Fletcher", the detective
smiled as he ran his hands up and down the boy's sides. "Now Andrew, you're
doing really well, your mother and I are both really proud of how brave you
are. There's no need for your clothes just now, you'll be fine. Now, did
the man in the park make you sit on his lap?" For the first time, Andrew's
nod was more enthusiastic as Detective Goodwin helped the boy up onto his
lap. Turning to Mrs Fletcher while he rubbed his hand on the boy's bare
midriff, he addressed the boy's mother in a serious tone. "Now Mrs
Fletcher, we've reached the part of the interview where my questions must
necessarily get very personal. I must ask you to bear with me as I find out
all about the man that Andrew encountered in the park. It is vital, for the
sake of the evidence that I am now gathering, that you restrain your
natural instincts and let me go where the evidence takes me".

Mrs Fletcher smiled and nodded in agreement. "Of course, Detective - I feel
that I can trust you implicitly. Do what you need to do, I won't intervene,
I want to catch this monster as much as you do."

"Thank you, Mrs Fletcher. I warn you that the next few minutes may be an
ordeal for you", he replied, running his hand up and down the inside of
Andrew's right thigh. The boy's boner stood up proudly throughout. "Now,
Andrew, remember that you only have to nod if you mean 'yes', and shake
your head if you mean 'no'. Anytime you feel like talking, you just speak
right up, okay son?"

Andrew liked being called 'son' - no male had called him that for a long
time, until the man in the park. Andrew liked Detective Goodwin too, and he
also liked what the nice policeman was doing with his hand. He nodded
agreement to the detective's question.

"Okay, now, son, now just try to remember for me what happened when the man
made you sit on his lap. Did he touch you anywhere?"

The boy nodded solemnly, his head moving slowly up and down. He then raised
his cupped hand to the Detective's ear and stretched up to whisper "He
touched my...winkie"

The detective looked at the boy's mother as he spoke. "Excellent, Andrew,
thank you for trusting me so much to tell me that, you're such a brave
boy". To the mother he said "Andrew told me the man touched his...winkie?"

Mrs Fletcher gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "That's a word I haven't
heard him use since he was a toddler, Detective - he knows all the proper
biological words, I assure you. Is it the shock, do you think, making him
revert to...a younger age?"

"We'll just wait and see, Mrs Fletcher, there's no need to worry as yet,
this is quite a common occurence in cases like these. Now, Andrew, did the
man touch your winkie like this-" here the detective grasped the stalk of
the boy's cock between thumb and forefinger, holding it gently "-or like
this?" he concluded, moving his fingers up to the boy's tiny pink knobhead
and twirling them slowly.

The boy leaned back in Detective Goodwin's embrace and sighed as his penis
was manipulated, then reached up to the man's ear to whisper again "He wet
his fingers with spit"

"Ah!" the plainclothes policeman declared to Mrs Fletcher, "Now we're
making real progress" He licked his fingers and teased the knob of the
boy's cut cock, making Andrew stretch upwards towards the hand that was
delivering the wonderful sensations. "Like this, Andrew?" the man asked as
the boy's hips shook in a little orgasm. The boy's taut stomach twitched
and his legs straightened as the Detective brought the naked boy off, his
mother sitting a few feet away admiring the man's interview technique.

"Oh...oh...uhhhh" the boy moaned when the man stopped fondling his
tool. Fearing the man might stop touching him, Andrew reached his face up
to the detective's ear and whispered again "He kissed me, too. On my
mouth. And he stuck his tongue in, as well"

Det. Goodwin turned to Mrs Fletcher, smiling, still sliding his fingertips
around the head of Andrew's cock. There was very little play in the skin of
the boy's shaft, so he paid most attention to the little pink bulb at the
top. "Mrs Fletcher-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Gloria, please" she replied, smiling back. "You're doing a wonderful job,
Detective Goodwin. I haven't been able to get a single word out of him".

"Thank you, Gloria - my name's Stuart, by the way. Andrew says the man
kissed him. Now I've found each and every perpetrator of these awful crimes
has an individual technique - almost like a fingerprint - and I'd like to
try to establish this monster's particular style with Andrew - with your
permission, of course."

"Anything you need to do, Det- uh, Stuart, is fine with me. Is there a
coffee machine anywhere nearby?"

"There's a machine down the hall and to the left, but it's godawful stuff -
the officers here mostly use the the Starbucks a few doors down the
street. I'll be busy with Andrew for a couple of minutes, I'm sure I can
get more out of him, I think he's really starting to open up to me." As the
door closed behind Andrew's mother, Stuart's mouth closed in on the boy's,
his delicate face tilted upwards as the man's tongue invaded the soft
lips. One hand held the boy around the shoulders as the other played a
scherzo on the boy's stiff stalk - within a minute he had the nude boy
writhing in his lap as he sucked on the man's thick tongue. Quickening the
pace of his fingers, he felt the boy's whole body stiffen, his narrow hips
arching upwards off the man's lap as he climaxed again.

When the boy calmed down, Stuart eased him off his lap again, onto the
floor. "Now, Andrew, try to remember, did the man...aw, fuck it" he cried
in desperation, grabbing at the zipper of his trousers and yanking it
down. The boy sank to his knees as if he knew what was coming and sure
enough, as soon as Detective Goodwin had freed his hard prick from his
pants the boy swooped on it, greedily gobbling down the hot pole of
flesh. Stuart combed his fingers through the boy's hair as he moaned his
encouragement. "Yes, Andrew, that's a good boy, oh, yes, your mother will
be back soon, so keep it up, use your tongue more on my knob, aww, gee,
that's great, good boy..." until he took two handfuls of Andrew's silky
hair to hold the boy's head steady and spurted a slimy load right down the
boy's eager throat. "Aaah, gnnn, uhhh, yeeeesss, keep uhhhh, yes" he moaned
as his dick spurted a pent-up batch of semen into the little minx's gullet.

When Mrs Fletcher returned with her coffee she found her son was now
dressed again and sitting on the table adjacent to the detective,
enthusiastically chattering about his collection of model dinosaurs with
the plainclothes policeman. She was delighted to hear her son's voice again
- that pervert in the park had given her son a serious fright, but he
seemed to be over the worst of it now.

"Ah, Gloria", Stuart exclaimed as she shut the door "we've been making
great strides, Andrew and I. In fact, I think Andrew is ready for the next
step - I need to visit the crime scene. In the park. With Andrew, that
is. I thought, with your approval, of course, we'd head over there now and
then meet you back at your apartment later. You can finish your coffee, of
course, before you leave. How does that sound?

Mrs Fletcher was delighted that the nice detective was actually asking her
permission - most of the cops on TV just did whatever they liked
nowadays. Plus it would be a way to get him into her home. He was a little
young, but he was still a man, after all. She smiled and nodded her
agreement, thanking the detective for his tip about the coffee.

Man and boy left the interview room hand in hand, a nice detail that Mrs
Fletcher appreciated. She sipped the coffee slowly, relishing its
flavour. When the cup was empty, she found a small waste-bin in a corner
for it, then left the room. Seeing the same desk sergeant on duty as when
she arrived, she walked up to his desk and smiled politely at him.

"Excuse me, Sergeant", she began "but do you have a contact phone number
for Detective Goodwin, please?"

The uniformed officer blinked at her. "Ma'am?"

"Detective Stuart Goodwin - I was speaking with him right here a few
minutes ago. I'd just like a contact number for him, if you would be so
kind?"

A frown crossed the desk sergeant's face. He tapped keys on his
computer. "Goodwin, Goodwin...hmmm...nope, no detective by that name at
this station, Ma'am, sorry. Are you sure you got the name right?

Feeling a little frustrated at this man's ineptitude, Mrs Fletcher nodded
vigorously. "Of course I got his name right! Stuart Goodwin! Detective
Stuart Goodwin!" She looked around the room in frustration, hoping to catch
the attention of another policeman who maybe wasn't such an idiot. Her eyes
fell on a series of mug shots on the wall behind the desk sergeant. "That's
him, right there, behind you!" she yelled exultantly, pointing at one of
the pictures.

The sergeant looked around at the mug shots. "This one?" he
confirmed. "This is a sketch our police artist made of a man we're looking
for in connection with a number of assaults on young boys in the big park
nearby".

Gloria's eyes widened in shock. She turned and ran out of the police
station. Her first instinct was to run to the park, but her legs weren't
what they used to be, and when she got to the park gate she gained a fresh
appreciation of just why it was called 'the big park'. Still, she was
driven by desperation, so she looked in every restroom she could find,
ignoring the atrocious odours, then turned her attention to clumps of
bushes, a gardener's shed, an old bandstand with a storeroom
underneath. Nothing. No sign of her boy. She felt as though she had spent
only minutes in her fruitless search, but inreality three hours had slipped
by.

Exhausted, she returned to her apartment. She did not look forward to
returning to the police station, this time minus her son, to report his
absence - she could just picture the look on the face of that smartass desk
sergeant. Though she was at the end of her energy reserves, she let out a
huge whoop! after shutting her apartment door behind her and immediately
seeing the profile of Andrew, sitting on the couch large as life, watching
cartoons on the television.

"Andrew!" she screamed, making the boy jump. "You're...you're home!
What...where..."

He turned to look at her with a bemused look on her face. "Sure, mom. Where
else would I be? The policeman dropped me off after we finished in the
park. What's up?" he asked, not really caring about an answer as another
episode of South Park was just starting.

Gloria Fletcher paused. Her son seemed to be unscathed. Was there any point
terrifying and confusing him about policemen who were not really policemen?
He was a very young boy, after all, young and innocent. Maybe the whole
incident would have no lasting effect on him. Who could tell? "Oh,
nothing's up, sweetie. Have you had any lunch yet? I'll make you a nice ham
salad roll, hmm?"

Later that evening, after his mom had seen him to bed and given him his
goodnight kiss, Andrew snuggled between his sheets, comforted by the weight
of his blankets. He had come to the end of an eventful day. He lay on his
side curled in a ball, his knees tucked up to his chest. He sighed as he
recalled to mind the friendly policeman, the detective, and their visit to
the park. Andrew shuddered with pleasure as he reached one hand behind him
and snaked it inside his pyjamas, running it down into the crevasse of his
bottom, sighing as he relived the sensations the detective gave him in the
park. Secret sensations that he promised not to talk about. The special
game the detective played with him, when they both got naked in the bushes
a long way away from the front gate of the big park. The feeling of the
detective's long hard winkie as it rubbed along where his hand was now
rubbing. Andrew fell asleep hoping the man would be there again tomorrow,
so they could play the special game again.


End