From: an522242@anon.penet.fi (boys-stir-us (boisterous))
Reply-To: an522242@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed,  3 Jul 1996 02:28:58 UTC
Subject: Big Brother, a story (M/b, cons, pedo)

The following story is for adults only.  It contains scenes depicting sex
between an
adult and a minor.  It is entirely a work of fiction and the characters
contained within are complete fabrications.  Please do not read this if you
are under the age of 18 or are offended by sexually explicit stories about
consensual sex between men and boys.

This is a story about a world that does not exist, and the author does not
encourage
the perpetration of any illegal acts, especially those involving our most
precious gifts--children


                               Big Brother
                             by Boy-stir-ous
                                    
     I suppose my intentions weren't all that pure when I decided to
volunteer to be
a Big Brother.  I ended up never applying though, because I told a female
friend of my
interest in hanging out with a boy.  She told a friend, who told a
friend--you know how
that goes.  Anyway my name was given to a woman who was a single parent (quite
wild and drug involved) with a lonely 11 year old son.  When Maria called me, I
stammered a lot.  I hadn't expected the call.  She filled me in on how she
got my
number, told me how she would love to have an adult male spend time with her
son,
Peter.  Maria talked very rapidly and I could tell she was chewing gum.
     "When can I meet Peter?" I eventually got a chance to ask.  She dropped him
off that very afternoon.  She declined my invitation to come inside.  Maria
was about
28 years old.  She wore heavy makeup, was thin as a rail, and had her dyed
blonde
hair in a shoulder-length semi-perm.
     Peter stood just behind her on my front steps.  He was short and thin, with
huge eyes that darted around with timidness.  In keeping with current
fashion, his hair
was cut short behind the ears and  bowl-cut on top, so it hung straight
across his
forehead just above the eyebrows.  It was jet black and silky, so that it
moved like
liquid when he turned his head.  Peter wore baggy shorts and a tee shirt, tennis
shoes, and ankle length white socks. He had a slender gold chain around his
neck. 
The Red Badge of Courage was tucked under one arm.
     "I'll come back to get him at say. . .6:00?  Is that too late?"
     "Well, I have no problem with that.  But it should be up to Peter.  It
can't be all
that comfortable to him spending a long time with a total stranger."
     "Don't worry about Peter.  You'll love him.  And I'm sure he's going to
be really
close to you. Until his uncle moved to San Francisco last summer, Peter and
he were
inseparable--even slept in the same bed every chance they got."
     I looked sharply at Maria, saw she was just rambling on, then looked at
Peter. 
His cheeks had colored and his eyes were averted.
     "Well, he can stay as long as he likes."
     "Really?"  she sort of nudged Peter through the door I was holding
open.  "See
you about 6:00, honey."  She looked at me and smiled.  "Thanks, Robert."
     Though the kid didn't look particularly athletic, I convinced him to
play catch
with me in the backyard.  Then we ate slices of watermelon on the deck,
spitting the
seeds over the railing.  As we sat, I told him about my job and anything
else I could
think of to keep the conversation alive.  He was shy.  As I talked, I
couldn't take my
eyes off his beautiful, delicate-featured face.  His eyes were large and
vibrantly brown. 
His black lashes were curled and thick.
     Peter's voice was light and quavered a little when he spoke.  Still, I
could sense
him studying me sometimes, and he listened raptly with eyes wide to
everything I told
him.  By drilling him with questions, I learned he was an A student with few
friends
and was mostly embarrassed to be seen with his mother.
     When I asked about the departed uncle, he said he really missed Uncle Bert
and could hardly wait till he came back to visit at Christmas (5 months
hence). I
pushed him to tell what he liked about his uncle and haltingly he blurted,
"He's really
strong and has a lot of hair all over his body."
     "You like that?" I have a moderately hairy torso, though I am quite
slender. I
was wondering if he would like my body hair.  I knew he wouldn't be
impressed by my
muscles.
     Peter blushed.  "Yes."  Quickly, he added, "He's always really nice to
me and
he wrestles with me and cuddles and teaches me stuff and sometimes he even gives
me massages."
     "I'm pretty good at giving backrubs myself.  Maybe sometime after we know
each other better, we can do that."
     "That'd be cool," he said with a smile.  He had one heel on the chair
and was
resting his chin upon that knee.
     I contemplated pushing him to a massage right then and there, but I
decided I'd
be better off if I stayed cool. Later I plugged the joystick into my
computer and showed
him my Flight Simulator program.  He leaned against me as I demonstrated and I
could smell the boyness of him--his shampooed hair, his bubble gum breath, and
something muskier.
     When I asked him if he wanted to try it, he climbed up into my lap. His
hair was
at my chin and his slender bottom was nestled against my crotch.  He's was
good with
the control, but used a lot of body language.  I found myself gently holding
him at the
rib cage.  The grinding of his butt on my crotch and the sensory overload of
having
him so close to me led to an inevitable erection.  I know that it was not
just my
imagination--I noticed him rubbing back against my bulge as he played.
     "This is so much fun," he kept saying in a near-whisper, as if talking
to himself.
I placed one palm on his bare thigh.  He didn't move.  He continued to pilot
his plane
as I rubbed up and down his thin, hairless thigh.  I couldn't believe how
soft and
supple the flesh was.
     He crashed his plane and as I reset the screen, he quickly released one
hand
from the joystick and tugged at his crotch.  I looked to see if he was
erect, but the
shorts were bunched and baggy.  His cock was probably not very big, either, so I
couldn't tell.
     At 5:00 I grilled hamburgers for us.  The time sped past and it seemed like
being with him had put me under an enchantresses spell.  He was more comely than
a woodland fairy creature. He was given to bursts of impulsive energetic
behavior as
well as spells of shy withdrawal.
     His mom came late to get him.  He waited nervously, not enjoying the extra
time with me.  He was embarrassed that his mom was so late. 
     Two days later he called me.  His mom was at work and he wanted someone
to talk to.  I invited myself over to his apartment.  He was wearing the
same shorts
and tee shirt when he answered the door.  He was barefoot. I glanced around
at the
somewhat messy apartment as he led me back to his bedroom.  His room was a
shambles.
     "Sorry it's such a mess."
     "I'd be worried about you if your room was neat and tidy.  Not natural
for an 11
year old."  I bent to pick up a pair of dirty underwear from one of the many
piles of
laundry.
     He looked uncomfortable.  When he looked away, I furtively moved the shorts
closer and inhaled.  The smell was a pre-pubescent acrid smell that is
unique to boys. 
I really wanted to stuff the underwear into my pocket, but I resisted the
impulse and
dropped it on the floor.  I sat on his bed while he showed me his books on
astronomy,
his baseball card collection, his plastic dinosaurs.
     "Uncle Bert sent me a picture a couple weeks ago.  Want to see what he
looks
like?"
     "Sure," I said, feeling a twinge of jealousy for the boy's adoration of
his uncle.
     I was surprised when he lifted the mattress and fished a photo out from
beneath it.    I took the 4 X 6 from him and stared.  His uncle was
semi-reclining on a
couch, his arms behind his head, his legs splayed.  He wore white briefs and
nothing
else.  His body was flabby and covered in dense black hair.  His stomach was a
round, sagging foothill.  His pectorals looked a little like breasts.  He
had a beard and
crooked teeth.  He was definitely not attractive. (But probably not so bad as my
jealous mind perceived.) The pose, however, was definitely sexually
suggestive, and
you could see the outline of his cock beneath his briefs.
     On the back of the picture in uneven penmanship it read, "Toothpick, I am
thinking about you.  See you at Christmas, Love Uncle Bert."
     "That's quite a picture," I said, returning it to him.
     He took it and quickly tucked it back under the mattress.   "It's a
secret, okay? 
Mom doesn't know about it."
     "Okay," I said.  I couldn't resist asking, "What did he mean about what
he wrote
on the back of it?"
     Peter blushed a deeper crimson. "I dunno."
     "Why do you suppose he sent you a picture of him in his underwear?" I asked
sweetly.
     Peter was agitated.  Finally he said,  "Sometimes he used to lay back
and let
me run my hands all over his hair.  He's really got a lot of it. I think the
picture was
supposed to remind me, or something."
     "And you enjoy touching him?"  I looked out the window, excited by our
conversation, but not all that comfortable with it.
     "That's not weird or anything is it?"
     I laughed.  "Not at all--except maybe admitting it.  Most guys wouldn't
admit to
liking it, even if they did."
     "I don't mind telling you--I trust you," he said simply. There was a
silent moment
of closeness as we made eye contact.
      His mom came home from work minutes after that, so I headed home.  We
made arrangements for Peter to spend the night with me Friday night.

     We had a full day Friday, going to the zoo, to the park to play
frisbee, to Dairy
Queen, then out for pizza.  It was a high energy day, and we paid close
attention to
one another.  I felt I had really clicked with the little guy.  And of
course, being around
him, feeling his frequent but casual touches, left me in a state of high
arousal.
     We were sitting on the couch next to each other, a bowl of popcorn between
us, and watching Man Without a Face on video, when Peter asked, "Do you have
a lot
of  hair on your chest?"
     We were both barefoot and wearing tee shirts and shorts.  Peter sat on the
couch so his heels were touching just beneath his butt.  When I looked over
to reply, I
couldn't help but notice that the baggy leg on his pants had fallen open to
reveal his
genitals.  He wasn't wearing underwear, a fact which shocked me since
earlier in the
day I had noticed he was.
     I was very stimulated. Not being able to take my eyes off the round bump of
one hairless teste, I changed the subject, "We forgot to bring your
overnight bag in
from the car."
     He looked disappointed. "There's no rush, is there?  You're not making
me go
to bed early, are you?," he asked in a concerned tone.
     "Well...no." 
     I looked back down and saw he had adjusted himself so now his penis was
visible through the leg opening of the shorts.  It looked like a miniature
version of a
circumcised adult cock, with it's plum-shaped glans perfectly formed.  I had
never
seen anything so cute.  I stared despite concern for how he might react to
my staring.
It took supreme effort to look away.  When I did, my gaze returned
automatically.
     Once when I was staring, I knew he was watching me.  I looked
deliberately up
into his eyes, my face in a gentle smile.  His gaze darted back to the
television.  A
moment later I again was caught staring.  Again I boldly met his gaze.  He
looked
away but not with such swiftness.  One of his hands sort of guided the leg
opening of
his shorts to open even wider.
     Five minutes further into the movie (which I watched only
intermittently as I
stared at his genitals), he said, "You never answered my question."
     "What question?"
     "Do you have a hairy chest?"
     "Not really," I replied modestly.  "There's a little hair."
     "Is it soft or scratchy?"
     "I don't know. . .soft, I guess."
     "I'd give anything to run my hands across it," he said in a soft
monotone.  I
wasn't sure he had actually said the words I thought I heard.
     "You mean a massage?"
     "Yeah, I guess.  Can I?"  He was being pushy and yet timid. One small hand
was already reaching toward my stomach.  Then I saw his little erection.  His
horniness was making him overcome his timidness.
     I knew I couldn't resist him.  I lifted my arms and pulled my shirt
off.  "Don't tell
anyone."
     He looked at me intensely.  "I'd never do that.  This is our secret."
     "But you told me about Uncle Bert letting you do this...."
     "But that's different...I knew I could trust you."
     I settled back against the couch, stretching my legs out before me.
His warm
little hands were rubbing up and down the soft mat of hair on my chest and
stomach. 
It felt very good.  My erection was angled toward one hip and it's shape was
obvious.
His hands rubbed from my neck to the waistband of my shorts.  He tickled my
navel
until I brushed his fingertips aside.  Then he began lightly scraping his
fingernails
across both of my nipples.  As shocks of electric stimulation rippled
through me I
managed not to say anything.  I was afraid if I spoke I would somehow make him
stop. I ended up sort of murmuring and moaning my appreciation.
     He was kneeling next to me.  I brought my hand up to cup one slender cheek
of his buttocks. My finger accidentally connected with the tackiness of his
cleft.  He
moaned.  In a flirting tone I said, "You aren't wearing underwear."
     "I know.  I hate wearing clothes."  His fingernail was working across
the nubs of
my very erect nipples.  
     "Well, you don't have to wear clothes when you visit me." I moved my
hand so I
still cupped one delicious globe, but my fingertips now nudged lightly
against his
hairless balls.
     His little body quivered.  A moment later, through half-lidded eyes he
said,
"Really?"
     "Long as no one else is around." I tickled his scrotum.
     "That feels really good."  He sat up.  "Shall I strip naked right now?"
     "If you are comfortable doing that."
     He beamed as he stood and nearly ripped off his clothes.  As he settled
back
onto the couch, I looked at his cock, which was in full erection so it stood
stiffly
upward.  I was shocked at how small it was.  Under three inches in length,
it was
amazingly small in diameter--not much thicker than a pencil.  His little
balls were
pulled snug in their wrinkled sac.
     "That's a pretty impressive cock you've got there, Peter." I didn't say
it to mock
him--I thought it was impressive because of its delicate beauty.
     He smiled, then a moment later wrinkled his nose.  "Uncle Bert says it's a
toothpick."
     I connected that with the nickname on the back of his picture. I was
finally
beginning to believe my suspicions about Uncle Bert.  I was willing to bet
this kid was
no virgin.  "I think it's beautiful and I wouldn't change it a bit even if I
could."
     "Uncle Bert says that in three or four years, it'll be as big as his,"
he said, his
hand rubbing the soft flesh just above the waistband of my jogging shorts.
I was
uncomfortable with him massaging my fat at first, since I had a flat stomach
until a
year earlier when I turned 39.  I was still only a few pounds overweight,
but it seemed
like a lot to me.  Then I remembered how gross his uncle was, with flabby
thighs and
all.  Peter thought the world of his uncle, so why wouldn't he like me?
     The kid kept rubbing just above the elastic waistband.  "My uncle has a
lot of
hair around his dick.  Um. . .do you?"
     "You've seen your uncle's cock?" I asked, trying to be casual about
slipping my
hand across his thigh to again poke my fingertip lightly against his little
nub of a
scrotum.  
     At the touch of my finger, he jerked his whole body and said, "Uhnnn"
He was
breathing through parted lips.  He licked them and ventured, "Sure, all the
time."  He
tugged tentatively on the waistband.  "Can I see yours?"
     I lifted my hips and tugged off my shorts and underwear all in one
motion.  My
cock slapped wetly against my belly.  "It's huge," he said in a reverent
voice.  He was
staring.  Nothing could have made him more beautiful to me.
     "Do you like it?"
     "Oh, very much," he said.  He continued to stare at my genitals as my
fingertip
tickled across his ball sac. He had a sort of disoriented, drunken look
about him. "It'll
probably hurt, though."
     "Huh?" I asked stupidly as he grasped my pole firmly in his delicate
fist. I
responded by taking his firm little appendage within the tight grasp of my
finger and
thumb.
     "Uncle Bert's hurt a lot the first time. And yours is a lot bigger."  
     "You're talking about. . . ."  My erotic circuits were in danger of
overloading. I
gathered myself.  "What are you talking about?"
     He brought both hands to my pole.  As they tugged and kneaded my turgid
shaft, he looked keenly at me, his embarrassment replaced by lust.  "You are
going to
stick it in me, aren't you?"
     "Well, maybe. . .Shit.  Let's slow down a little."  I sat up,
disengaging our hands
from each other's cocks.  My cock was throbbing and dripping and part of me just
wanted to turn his face to the cushions and plow into him.  But I liked the
kid way too
much for that.
     "You like me, don't you?" he asked in a surprised, somewhat frightened
voice.
His lower lip quivered in a most endearing way.
     "I like you too much--more than you could possibly believe. I want to
make sure
we don't do anything wrong here, anything that might hurt our friendship." I
took both
his cheeks in my palms and moved closer to his face.  He looked up at me with
darting eyes. "I want to kiss you."
     "Um. . .o-okay."
     My lips touched his.  I used my tongue to press against his firm lips.
I nibbled
at them, sucked on them.  Eventually, he opened them a little and I slid my
tongue
across the edge of his top teeth.
     Breaking the kiss, I pulled him against my chest, my hands rubbing his
arms,
his back, his hair.  "You've never done that, have you?"
     "No."
     "Did you like kissing a man?"
     "I think so. Well, I mean I liked kissing you, anyway."
     "Want to try again?"
     He raised himself up so he again knelt on the couch.  He leaned in to
kiss me,
this time opening and softening his lips. I caressed his neck and held his
face to my
face with one hand.  With the other, I slowly traced up his thigh until I
connected with
his genitals.  Seizing the rock hard protuberance, I squeezed, then
released.  His
breath exploded into my mouth as he orgasmed.  His hips bucked a little as his
slender frame quivered and he clutched at me with both hands.  He didn't
break the
kiss, but as his dry orgasm passed, he did bring his hand to my hand,
signalling for
me to release his hypersensitive cock.
     When I broke our kiss, he said, "Wow, Uncle Bert never did that to me."
     "What?"
     "Jacked me off!"  He was grinning.  "That was the best thing I ever felt."
     "You didn't orgasm when you and your uncle had sex?" I asked, puzzled and a
little concerned.
     "Sometimes. . .I'd do it to myself. . .you know, while I sucked him. .
.or, er. . .he
did it to my bottom."
     "He didn't suck you, too?"
     "Oh, no," the boy exclaimed.  "I'm just a kid, you know.  He said
getting blow
jobs was man stuff, but that giving blow jobs is for girls. . . and boys."
     "No disrespect intended, but I think your uncle is wrong.  You liked it
when I
touched your cock, didn't you?"
     "Oh, yeah," he smiled.
     "Then you'll probably like it if I sucked you, right?"
     "You'd do that?" he asked in awe.
     "Almost anytime. But right now I need some relief."
     I caught his head in my hands as he dove for my crotch.  I pulled him
up and
said, "Snuggle against me and just use your hands."
     He put his head on my chest so he could look down my body at the cock he
held in both hands.  He worked my cock a little unevenly.  I realized he
probably didn't
do this with his uncle.  His uncle had been too busy using the boy's mouth
and anus.
     "Peter," I said tenderly, my lips touching the top of the boy's head,
"that feels so
good.  Make me come, honey.  Just a little more. Faster.  I'm almost there."
     I raised my hips as the first wad of semen exploded from my body.  Peter
flinched but didn't move away.  His hands continued to milk at my shaft as
my cock
twitched and released my seed over and over.  When I pulled his face up to
mine, I
saw it was smeared with my semen.  I used my underwear to wipe it clean, then
kissed him tenderly. He had an irrepressible grin on his delicate, angelic face.
     As we lay peacefully intertwined, I explored the soft curved surfaces
of his
body.  This was beyond any dream.  I hadn't been the boy's first lover, but
I knew that
(for the moment) I was his best.
     He was sort of dozing off to sleep.  "Robert?" he said in a soft and dreamy
voice.
     "Yes?"  I was stroking the graceful curve of his lower back.  His knee was
raised to press against my balls and his cheek was pressed against my hairy
chest.
     "You are my best friend."
     A tear came to my eye because I knew what he meant, the thing that he was
afraid to say.  so I said, "I love you, too, Peter."
     He snuggled up more tightly against me and I heard a small sniffle.  It
was an
hour before either of us felt like moving.