Date: Tue, 25 Sep 2012 06:13:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: DJ <dough304@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dougie's Visit Chapter 1

Dougie's Visit
Chapter 1
Whatever It Takes

	The phone rang about 9:00 o'clock Wednesday night.  It was Maureen,
my next door neighbor when I lived in upstate New York.  We had been very
close neighbors-me as a single guy and her, her husband, and their son who
was 6 when I got a professorship at Texas A & M 4 years ago.  A year after
I moved, her husband-a really nice guy-dropped dead from an aneurism at the
age of 31.
	The gist of the conversation was that she needed to have surgery.
It wasn't life-threatening or anything, but her recuperation would be at
least 2 months.  Her parents and in-laws were all still young and had jobs.
But as I college teacher, I was off for the summer.  She wanted to know if
I would keep Dougie.  On the one hand, I was glad to help but I was
hesitant.  We had kept in touch somewhat, but you know how it is when you
move.  You get involved in your life where you are.  And I wasn't from New
York either -- no ties there.  So I had only been back once since I
moved-for her husband's funeral.  What was Dougie like now?  What would I
do with a 10-year-old kid all summer?
	"Of course, he can stay here," I heard myself saying.  "Brick,"
you're a prince," she said.  "Brick" was my nickname-long story.  A few
days later, she called me with his flight plan.  "Let me put Dougie on,"
she said.  Dougie didn't sound all that happy to talk to me.  Our
conversation was short and Maureen came back on the phone and assured me
that it was nothing personal towards me or even that he was coming to stay.
He was just worried about the surgery.  He was only 10 and he had already
lost one parent.  I understood.
	So, a few days later I was waiting at the airport.  I thought we
could have fun this summer.  After all, I was an educator.  I started out
teaching elementary school-I loved children.  And I was all alone.  My
parents stayed married-were still married after 40-some years.  But they
had a terrible marriage.  My home life was a mess.  I was depressed as a
child.  I think that's why I became a teacher, so I could be in a job where
I could be nice to kids.  Anyway, I guess I didn't have a good example to
learn from, because all of my relationships with women had been disasters.
I had had my heart broken so many times.  At age 40, I had not had a date
with a woman for several years.  Didn't want one.  I had even thought about
guys, if not for a relationship, maybe just for sexual release.  But I was
afraid to try anything.  All I knew for sure was that I was not going to
get my heart broken again.  I guess mainly, my heart was just shut down.
	His plane was basically on time and 20 minutes after landing, I
took charge of him from the flight attendant.  I had forgotten what a cute
boy he was.  His hair was still light blond.  He had pretty long bangs and
longish hair all over his head.  His skin was really fair, his eyes a pale
blue with long eyelashes.  He was very slender-also pretty short for his
age.  In fact, he didn't look that much different than I remembered from 3
years ago.  He looked tired and dazed.  He didn't say anything when we
first met.  As we walked down the concourse, he kept looking up at me.  As
we turned into the main aisle among all the people, his hand slipped into
mine.  I prattled on a bit about this and that, then gave up and we walked
in silence to the car.  Then, before he put his seatbelt on, he leaned over
fast and grabbed me in a hug.  He had my right armed pinned down but I put
my left arm around him and pulled him tight.  I stroked his silky hair, and
told him that it was going to be okay.  Something came over me sitting
there holding him like that, him so needy, so dependent, so delicate, in a
way.  I determined that I would do anything to help him-love him, die for
him, kill for him, do whatever it took to make him happy.  My heart was
breaking for this scared, fragile little boy.
	When we got home, I showed him where he would sleep.  There wasn't
much to do, as the airline had lost all his luggage.  According to his mom,
he had 3 suitcases of all kinds of things-books, toys, video games, even a
stuffed bear.  She said he hadn't slept with it since he was 8, but he
wanted to bring it.  He found some kids books in my study and brought me
one.  It was a really little kid's book though-too young for him.  "Are you
going to read this?" I asked.  No answer.  "Do you want me to read it to
you?" and with that he plopped onto my lap.  It all seemed a little odd to
me for someone as old as 10 but I went along.  So, I read him the book,
which didn't take long.  By the time I was done I realized his eyes were
not aimed at the book.  Rather, he was nuzzling into my chest.  I think he
was falling asleep.  "You want to go to bed?" I asked.  "Hungry," was all
he said.  I had bought all kinds of things, not knowing what he liked but I
had an idea he was in no way able to make a decision.  So I just microwaved
some frozen pizza for us.
	After dinner, he looked up and said, "It's time for my bath."  I
think that was the first complete sentence I had heard out of him.  But
bath?  I'm sure his mom had told me that he took showers-even adjusted the
water on his own.  Oh well.  I started for the hallway but turned around
when he didn't follow me.  "Are you coming?" I asked.  He just sat there,
but put his arms up in the air.  ("Okay," I reminded myself of my earlier
words, "whatever it takes.")  I picked him up to carry him to the bathroom.
He wrapped his arms and legs tightly around me.  I sat him down on the
toilet and had to pry him off of me.  I started the water and he just sat
there.  "Shirt off," I said.  He just put his arms straight up.  So...I
grabbed the bottom of his polo shirt and pulled it up and inside-out over
his head.  I pulled off his shoes, then his socks.  Gosh, he had such
little feet.  Kind of cute.  So was his innie belly button for that matter.
Huh?  I never noticed anyone's belly button before.
	Next, I got him under his armpits and stood him up, undid his pants
and pulled them down along with his underwear.  I lifted up each ankle and
pulled his pants off his feet.  As I did, he put his hands on my shoulders
and leaned in to me.  I could feel the tip of his little penis brushing
against the top of my head as I looked down at his feet.  Oh well, it was
just skin, wasn't it?  Besides, he was just a little boy.
	By this point, I knew it was pointless to ask him to walk over to
the tub, so I picked him up and gently placed him in the water.  I took my
shirt off so it wouldn't get all wet, and got the shower nozzle hose and
started on his hair.  I don't think I had ever washed another person's hair
before.  There was something nice about it-something soothing-for him too
as far as I could tell.  After his head was full of shampoo, I soaped up my
hands, then gently washed his face and ears before rinsing him off with the
spray.  After that I turned off the water, and started on the rest of him.
	I just used my hands on him instead of a washcloth.  That's how I
always washed myself.  Wow, his skin felt so soft and nice.  I was kind of
enjoying the intimacy of it.  I had actually closed my eyes and was rubbing
his back and chest over and over-way beyond the point of getting him clean.
He wasn't complaining.  I came out of it when I realized that my cock was
almost fully hard, pointing down and straining at my pants.  Where did that
come from?
	Oh well.  I carried on with the washing, lifting each leg in turn
out of the water and washing them from mid-thigh down to his feet.  I was
still thoroughly enjoying the bodily contact, making sure to take my time
and get in between each of his toes.  My dick was still expressing it's
enjoyment as well, but I didn't dwell on that.  After finishing the last
toe and putting his foot back in the water, I figured I was done then and
would just let him soak a while.  But he stood up and turned to face me.  I
assumed he was going to get out, but then he put his hands on the back of
his hips and jutted his cock out a bit.  He looked down at it, then back up
at me.  He had kind of a far-away look in his eye.
	What could I do?  What should I do?  But the thing is, I wanted to.
I wanted to handle that little cock.  What was wrong with me?  I was just
starved for any kind of intimacy, I told myself.  I started to pick up the
soap but then stopped to adjust my straining cock.  He didn't seem to
notice.
	I took my time getting a good ton of lather worked up in my hands.
And while I did, I examined his little member.  I have to say, that like
the rest of him it was cute...nice...dare I say, "sweet?"  I had certainly
never thought of a penis as "cute" before.  He was totally hairless, of
course-still a long way from puberty.  There was a kind of innocence about
him, not just that he was smooth and slender and looked, well, hot (yes I
said it-I just called a 10-year-old hot).  But that he was just so willing
to stand there naked in his "hot-ness;" and let me ogle him-touch him,
caress him.  I could probably do whatever I wanted to him.
	Right now, I was going to touch his little cock, his penis, his
dick, his peepee.  The first time ever in my life for me to touch someone
else's cock.  Again, I say, it was so cute.  So small and delicate just
like the rest of him.  It fit him perfectly.  If I were going to paint or
sculpt him nude (and a boy this beautiful should be painted and sculpted),
I wouldn't change a thing.  He was uncircumsized.  And his little member
was milk bottle shaped.  About an inch and a half of actual dick ending in
an extra quarter inch or so of foreskin.  His testicles still very
small-marble size if that, but hanging low after all the time sitting in
the warm water.
	I put down the soap and went in.  First, I washed all around
it-starting with the top of his thighs then going up and around his groin
to the bottom of his stomach.  Then I made my way into the center-the
target.  I gently soaped him up, getting soap on his sweet little cocklett,
then gently massaging his little hanging balls with my sudsy hand.  I
thought I heard him give a little sigh.  I went back to his little cock,
soaping him back and forth in a jacking motion.  Did I detect a little
throb?  Was he starting to chub up?  Did little boys even get hard-ons?  I
know my 6 inch dick was now raging in my pants.
	Then I went for the real prize.  I manipulated his hardening penis
to get the foreskin back.  It took a little effort as it was so small and
slippery.  But then, there it was.  The little head of his sweet little
white cock.  It was almost the same color as his blinding white skin.
Maybe just a slight hint of pink to it.  It was about the size of a pea.  I
pushed the skin down as far as it would go, stretching his little, but now
definitely hardening cock.  Then I washed it some more, soaping it up and
down, again in a jacking motion.  This time, I definitely heard a sigh from
him, and he put his hands on my bare shoulders to steady himself.  As I
continued to wash him, his cock grew to its full 2 inches, now sticking
straight up.  It was the width of my little finger.  His cute little
cockhead was now the size of a blueberry.  I just stopped and gazed a
little.  I realized I was panting.  And then...
	And then he turned around and offered me his butt.  Wow!  If I
thought the front of him was perfection!  Dougie was a true blond, that is,
he had that really pale, really white, almost albino-like fair skin that
people with really blond hair often have.  Sure his face and his arms were
a little bit tan, and his torso, a tiny bit tan from playing outside as the
weather warmed.  But his cock, his crotch, and his butt-his sweet little
ass had never seen the sun.  It was...amazing.  Back in my days of ogling
girls I was always a butt man.  Now, I was looking at my first naked butt
in years.  And Dougie's butt was awesome!  It really jutted out-his cheeks
like two small cantaloupes.  It was the most beautiful, pure looking,
creamy white.  I couldn't see into his crack but maybe when I washed it...
	But why did I even want to see into his crack?  That deep part of
the ass had never interested me before.  But there was something about
little Dougie...I wanted to see everything-to touch him everywhere if I
could.  Once again I picked up the soap and worked up a bunch of lather.  I
shuddered as my hands met with those precious, luscious, delicious mounds
of his sweet, white buttflesh.  Oh shit.  Oh fuck!  I had to move up and
lean my thighs on the wall of the tub to try and brace myself as I was
feeling a little bit weak.  This was so awesome!  His sweet little cheeks
felt so awesome in my hands!
	I washed him and washed him, reveling in the feel of my slippery
hands roving over his luxurious skin.  I petted his sweet cheeks with my
soapy hands until all the soap had dried up.  But I wasn't finished.  I
soaped my hands up again and when I looked up, I gasped.  He was leaning
against the wall of the tub now, bent over, his butt sticking out, his
cheeks parted.  I could just about see his little hole.  Did he...did he
want me to wash his butthole now?  I've washed every other part of him,
lavishing attention on his little peepee already, pulling back his foreskin
even.  So...yes, I think he did!  Did I want to?  Oh fuck!  YES I DID!!
	I wanted to see, to touch, to caress, to savor his most secret,
private, intimate place, the center of his cute little hot bod!!  I had to
see it, not just wash it.  With now shaking fingers, I watched as from a
distance as my hands went in.  With my left hand, I made an upside down "u"
with my thumb and forefinger and used that to pry his cheeks apart.  Then
instead of soap, I decided to use shampoo, so I grabbed the bottle and just
squirted some on the ledge of the tub to dip my finger into.  Then, for a
moment, I just stared.  Did I tell you already how magnificent his butt
was?  How beautiful the color of his skin?  I did.  His pucker was just as
beautiful somehow.  So tight, so white, so...forbidden.
	I went in.  First I rubbed all around and over it, including his
perineum, which I noticed felt rather firm, which meant his dick was still
hard.  Then I made gradually smaller circles with my finger until I was
right at the target.  "Ahhh," the rubbing of my finger over his sweet
little hole.  Was that me who said, "Ahhh," or him?  I think it was both of
us.  Yup.  He was definitely getting off on it.  "Mmmm," he cooed, even
jutting his butt out a little bit further at me.  I don't know who long I
rubbed my soapy fingertip over his tight little winker.  I lost track of
time.  I kind of went somewhere else in my head for a moment and then sort
of "woke up" to realize that my finger and his butthole were just about dry
of shampoo.  The puddle of shampoo I had squeezed out onto the tub was all
gone.
	"Okay, I think you're clean everywhere now," I said with a shaky
voice.  I got him seated in the tub, then reached in and pulled the skin
back on his still hard penis and shook it around under the water a bit to
rinse the dried soap off from under his foreskin.
	Then I told him to soak a while and I'd be back in a few minutes.
He said nothing.  I walked out into the living room, my cock still hard.
But I had to get a handle on this.  This kid was going to be with me for at
least 2 months.  Where was this going?  Was this normal?  As I really
thought about it, I was truly worried for him, I mean, in a way he was
about half comatose.
	I picked up the phone and called the head of my department.  He was
a friend as well as an educational psychologist specializing in early
childhood development.  Not only that, but he and his wife had adopted
several children from third world countries.  "Hey Paul, it's Brick," I
said.  I gave him a brief run-down of Dougie's history-how his father had
died and his mom was facing surgery, and how he was barely talking and also
acting like a much younger child.  "Paul," I said, "I even had to give him
a bath.  And I think he wanted me to even wash his penis," (I fudged the
truth a bit).  "Well did you?" Paul asked?  "Well I..." I stammered.  "If
you didn't, you should have," Paul continued.
	"Really?" I asked.  "Sure," Paul answered, "if he really was a
little kid you'd wash him all over.  Look," Paul continued, "his behavior
really isn't that surprising.  In the back of his mind he's freaking out.
He's having some post-traumatic stress from the death of his father,
brought on by the surgery of his mother.  He's in a strange place with a
guy he hasn't seen in years.  He's trying to bond with you.  He's testing
you.  He wants to make sure you're going to love him totally.  He needs to
know he's in a 100% safe place, both physically and emotionally."
	"Okay."
	"He may even regress further," Paul continued.  "He might start
sucking his thumb, cooing like a baby.  He could even wet himself or poop
his pants."  "And what do I do if that happens?" I asked.  "You go out and
buy some diapers," Paul answered, "and then you clean his penis and his
bottom, including his hole, with baby wipes, you powder him and you put him
in a diaper.  You do it gently and sweetly, with love-no judgement.  Then
after, you put him on your lap and cuddle him."
	"Are you serious?  I mean, it's not that I would mind doing that,
it just seems so...I don't know..."
	"I'm totally serious.  You have to give this kid everything he
wants.  Hold him, read him kid stories.  Give him a thousand kisses if he
asks for it; and yes, I mean that literally.  It's either that or you can
take him to the emergency room.  They'll put him in the mental ward where
he won't get what he really wants and needs which is your acceptance and
affection.  And it could be weeks before you get him back out."
	"Well, we can't have that."
	"Look, Brick, you'll be fine, I know you will.  If you just do
everything he wants, I think you'll be surprised at how quickly he comes
out of it.  If you resist, it's just going to prolong the poor little guy's
pain."
	I thanked Paul and as I hung up the phone I again remembered the
promise I had made over Dougie when he hugged me in the car: "whatever it
takes...whatever it takes."
	My erection had thankfully subsided.  And even though it was fairly
early, I realized how tired I was.  Poor Dougie must be exhausted by now.
I was definitely spent of all the sexually charged stuff we had done, so I
made short work of getting him out of the tub and dried off.  I then picked
him up to carry him to his bed and once again he tightly wrapped my body
with his arms and legs, only this time, it was his naked body pressing
against my naked chest, his now softened little penis pressing against my
stomach.  My hands were holding him up by his bare butt.
	As tired as I was, I have to say it was nice.  I almost wished that
I lived in a huge mansion and that his bed was a 5 minute walk away.  But I
needn't be disappointed, because when I got him to his bed, he refused to
let go of me.  So, I simply pulled back the covers and laid down on my back
with him still on top of me.  I held him and gave him little kisses on top
of his head.  I stroked his hair and ran my fingers through it.  I petted
him from the top of his head, all the way down to the bottom of his little
boy behind.  In just a few minutes, he was sound asleep.
	I gently worked him off of me and covered him up.  I gently kissed
him on the forehead and left the room.
	I always slept in the buff but I had bought pajamas for Dougie's
visit, thinking that would be better with a guest in the house.  But I was
so tired, and after all the intimacy we had just shared I figured, "what
does it matter?"  So I quickly stripped off what clothes I had on and
climbed into bed naked.  As tired as I was, I was wound up so I decided to
read for a bit in order to relax.  After I had read for only a minute, I
looked up to see Dougie's naked figure in the doorway.  "What's the matter,
little buddy?" I asked, "can't you sleep?"

Coming in Chapter Two -- A Thousand Kisses

	Friends, I was going to get more sexual in this first chapter, but
I ended up spending so much time on the bathing scene that I felt the story
had gone on long enough for now.  And hopefully, the bathing scene got you
off anyway!  But please read chapter 2.  I promise, you won't be
disappointed!
	If you liked this story, please e-mail me at dough304@yahoo.com and
let me know.
	If you want to tell me about yourself and your fantasies and
experiences, that would be nice.
	I will also e-mail you when new chapters and stories are posted on
Nifty.
	I also hope you will check out my other stories, Malcolm and My
Neighbors, in the Celebrity section.  Frankly, I only wrote the story you
just read in order to direct people to the Malcolm stories, which are more
detailed and involved -- and I think, even more fun.  I have many
chapters planned.  If you're like me, and prefer the adult/youth section on
Nifty, then like me, you probably don't check out the Celebrity section
much.  But the Malcolm stories are really just adult/youth stories.  You
don't have to know the TV show to enjoy them as good, erotic man-boy
stories because I describe everyone in detail.  I also often avoid stories
that are in "directories" because when I'm horny, I don't want to have to
read forever before I get to the good stuff.  But each of the "Malcolm"
chapters is a story unto itself and each one has a cum scene.  So check
those out and let me know if they "charge you up."

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