Date: Tue, 18 Dec 2001 16:34:52 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Babying Reuben, chapter two

This story involves teen/adult, male/male graphic sex and is not
intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type
of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read
something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only
for the purpose of pleasurable reading. These people don't exist,
this world doesn't exist, outside of this story. It is not in any
way, shape, or form meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected
sex.

Feedback to javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Babying Reuben ~ chapter two

by Biscuit

Jean's happiness was peaking to bliss as he held the
bottle to Reuben's lips, watching him suck. It had
happened. Reuben had come to him. Embarrassed,
frightened, defensive; but he'd come. So brave, my
little virgin baby, Jean thought. Nine months had
passed since they'd met, since Marcel had brought
Reuben to the shop.

Jean had flirted with games and scenes since his own
teenage years. It was intriguing to try on a role and
play with sex, fun without pressure. He'd met Marcel
at a party where the boys were dressed in Victorian
drag. He'd found the bold, little blond art student
very sexy in his corset and petticoats and they'd dated
briefly.

Marcel swiftly introduced his need for money and a
love of playing. Jean indulged him, for awhile,
experimenting with a variety of games. But it paled
very soon for him. He'd drifted back to frequenting
clubs, thinking that at twenty-six, the time might
have come to meet someone and share more than a
game. Marcel had pestered him to meet his friend,
fifteen year-old Reuben, a fellow art student.

"I'm branching out," Marcel had announced in a
conspiratorial whisper, leaning across the jewelry
case in the shop. "Pimping," he'd laughed. "If you
don't want me, Jean, maybe I can set you up with
my friend. For a small fee, if you like him."

"In a word, Marcel," he had said, gently but firmly,
his patience running thin, "No. Give it up. Make
some deliveries for me, and I'll give you some cash."
Jean didn't begrudge him money. He had it, Marcel
didn't. But he had no interest in furthering the boy's
ambition to become some kind of pimp and he
definitely didn't want to be fixed up with a fifteen
year-old boy. Good Lord, thought Jean. At seventeen,
Marcel was already straining his limits. He wanted
a lover, not to baby-sit.

"Just look at him out there -- to die for, Jean!" He'd
cocked his blond head at the window and Jean had
looked, in spite of himself. The boy on the other side
of the glass, bracing himself against the wind with his
hands thrust deep in his pockets, was, indeed, to die
for, Jean thought. Even scowling from the cold, he
had the face of an angel. His leather jacket was short
and ragged and exposed his body, in jeans, from the
waist down. As he turned, Jean saw the lovely curve
of his ass and his cock jolted with interest.

"He must be freezing out there. Why didn't you
bring him in?"

"You like him?" God, yes, he liked him and the
thought of him standing there in the cold, waiting to
be taken in, warmed up and fucked, made Jean
harder. Maybe Marcel had, indeed, found his true
calling.

Jean gave Marcel a cautioning look, in spite of
how his dick was responding.

"We'll see, troublemaker. Take this." Jean had
extracted a large bill from the cash register. "Send
him around to the back. Your finder's fee, boy,
don't expect any more."

Marcel nodded, grinning at the amount in his hand,
and headed for the door.

"You won't regret it," he called back over his
shoulder. "And don't hesitate to call when you
miss me!"

That, Jean thought, is not going to happen. He
watched the blond boy take his friend by the arm
and start toward the corner, heading into the wind.
Reuben glanced briefly at the window, over his
shoulder, but Jean couldn't read his expression.

Now, as he gazed at Reuben, he thought back on
how close to disaster that meeting had been. How
far Reuben had been from the easy fuck he'd
expected. So anxious, so frightened that Jean had
been ready to send him home with a pat on the
head and a crisp bill in his pocket, in spite of how
badly he wanted him. He'd sworn to himself that
he'd kill Marcel for saddling him with the skittish
young virgin. Only the under glaze of longing in
Reuben's eyes had stopped him; blue gray eyes
with outrageously thick dark lashes, begging
silently not to be sent away. Those looks had
reached into Jean's heart and tugged
unmercifully.

The boy was as emotionally needy and as sexually
excitable as he was scared. Jean wanted to calm him
down and fuck him senseless but couldn't seem to
find any way to relax him.

He hadn't tried to create any particular scene. Just
to get his hands on him seemed like challenge
enough. He'd given him a glass of wine and tried
to draw him out with conversation.

He'd guessed, and Reuben miserably admitted, that
he had never been with a man before. The young
painter was so nervous, in spite of his obvious
arousal, that he'd nearly jumped every time he was
touched. They had made it as far as sitting side
by side on the bed; Reuben blushing furiously, his
eyes darting everywhere, anywhere, but at Jean, his
slender legs crossed to try to hide his erection. His
gaze had finally settled, distracted, on a basket of
toys.

"Do you want to see those?" Jean had asked.
Reuben had looked away from them guiltily,
shaking his head.

"No, I was just looking, it's all right," he'd said
awkwardly. But Jean, for lack of any better idea,
had fetched the basket and brought it to the
bedside.

"Shove over," he'd told him, and Reuben had
responded by quickly scooting back toward the
center of the bed. "I'll show you what these toys
are for." He'd picked up a shaggy stuffed bear.

Jean had bought the toy for its white fleecy
fur, knowing how good it would feel to naked
skin.

"This," he'd told Reuben, turning the bear to face
him, "is for a good little boy. Hold him." The way
Reuben's eyes had flashed at him, the mix of wonder
and surprise on his pretty face, had sent a shot of
heat straight to Jean's dick. He'd watched Reuben's
fingers, raw skinned from scrubbing off paint with
turpentine, curl into the softness of the stuffed toy.

"It likes to touch a baby's skin," Jean had said,
leaning closer to touch the top button of Reuben's
shirt. "Lie down, I'll show you." The boy hadn't
flinched. He'd been wide-eyed and excited, letting
Jean ease him down on the pillows and unbutton
his shirt. His gaze had hardly strayed from Jean's,
watching him, clutching the bear, only lowering
his eyes as he uttered a soft moan when Jean took
the bear and stroked it over his naked chest.

Jean had bluffed his way through, unprepared, but
inspired by Reuben's exquisite responses. It had
been extraordinary. As astonishing for Jean, who
knew what games were like, as it was for Reuben,
who didn't. Jean felt he'd touched the heart of why
such a scene existed. Reuben, innocent of role
playing, had opened up to him like a flower as he'd
played with him, spreading his legs to let Jean rub
him with lotion and powder him. He'd quivered in
Jean's hands, coming furiously from almost
anything Jean did to him, gazing at him with such
guileless surrender that Jean was as awed as he
was choked with lust.

Jean had jerked himself off between Reuben's
shaved, oiled cheeks, and it had been as intense as
fucking, hotter than anything he'd felt in years to
spatter the boy's virgin ass with cum.

Alone, afterwards, he'd carried the white bear
upstairs with him. Sleepless in bed, he'd studied its
face in the vague light, silently vowing to care for
Reuben, to safeguard him. The boy had no idea
how vulnerable he'd made himself, how openly
he'd shown Jean what he wanted and needed. So
like a baby, trusting Jean to take care of him.

Two weeks later, Jean had called him. It set a
pattern he'd kept to, as well as he could, though
from time to time he broke down. The day didn't
pass when he wasn't obsessed by the thought of
him. He prepared himself with props and planned,
between meetings, what he would do to him. He
began to feel like a teenager himself, living in a
state of fogged lust, subject to agonizing
hair-trigger erections.

The first few times they met, Jean found ways
to jerk himself off while holding him, rubbing
himself against Reuben's smooth skin, sometimes
thrusting into the loosened leg of the diaper to
ejaculate into the sticky warmth. He'd been afraid
to overwhelm him by fucking him, holding back,
stimulating him, waiting for a sign, until at last
Reuben contrived to get him to do it.

But the essence of every encounter, regardless
of its trimmings, was simply babying the boy,
caressing and petting him, soothing him with
soft words and touching his genitals. This role
Jean could play forever because it was no role,
it was pure delight.

Always, at the end, Jean would cuddle him in his
arms, holding him in his lap in the armchair until
there was just enough time for Reuben to dress and
get home to dinner, with money tucked discreetly
in his pocket.

And now Reuben had come to him on his own.

Jean placed Reuben's hands on the bottle.

"Drink, sweetheart," he told him, moving further
down the bed. He knew how turned on the boy was
and didn't intend to make him wait. Reuben could
come so many times; his need outstripped even
Jean's memory of the heat of being a teenage boy.

The room was warm enough now to expose bare
skin. Jean slid the satin cover off him, outwardly
much more calm than he felt. Reuben was still
smooth from being shaved the last time. Jean
would do it again, just because Reuben loved it,
scraping away nothing for the sake of seeing
the gray eyes turn limpid with pleasure. But first
he'd make him come, so he'd be calm under the
blade.

"You're so pretty," Jean said, lightly stroking the
taut shaft, straining like a dart up Reuben's
stomach; a perfect six inches of pink and white cock,
rising from what Jean thought of as the world's
most innocent looking balls, a modest rounded
hand full. "I have to kiss it, baby," he said, leaning
forward to guide the moist, neatly circumcised head
into his mouth. He imagined he could feel Reuben's
pulse under his lips.

He'd barely begun to suck him before Reuben
thrust at the roof of his mouth and unleashed the
first hot spurt. Jean sucked it down and swallowed,
holding the tight, hairless balls cradled in his hand.
He felt dangerously close to coming himself from
the feel and taste of Reuben in his mouth; incredibly
aroused by knowing how desperately the boy wanted
him, to have come to him without being called.