Date: Tue, 18 Jun 2002 08:20:14 -0600
From: SBP
Subject: Ian, One Man's Prince

	Later that night, Ian stood in front of the toilet, holding
his penis with both hands, the bright gold rope around his wrists.
He stuck his tongue out of the left corner of his mouth in childish
concentration.
	"Get a move on, Ian," Matthew called pleasantly from the
bedroom.  "I want to masturbate you before we go to sleep."
	"Come on, come on," Ian whispered, jiggling his
uncooperative, flaccid penis that looked like a tiny white knuckle.
The boy took a deep breath, knee caps jumping above the lavender
stockings.
	An arc of urine splashed into the bowl.
	Ian shivered with pleasurable release, bony shoulder twisting
as he rose on tippy-toes, the gold ropes tightening around his
ankles.  "Oooo!" the little boy sighed, closing his eyes and dropping
his head back.  Ian peed for some time, draining his bladder.  Then
the little boy lost his balance.  He gasped, hopped once, then let go
of his penis to catch himself by resting his hands on the tank.  It
was impossible to aim this way, and Ian peed all over the toilet seat.
	"Uh oh," said Ian, pressing his tiny knees together and
twisting his hips, doing his best to minimize his accident.
Finished, the boy quickly tucked his penis into his cum-stained white
cotton briefs and zipped up his shorts.  Next, he pulled a bundle of
toilet paper from the roll and carefully wiped the seat to hide his
mess.
	"Don't forget to brush your teeth!"
	"OK!"
	Parental concern was exactly what the neglected child craved,
and he gladly followed the man's rules.  Ian flushed the toilet and
hopped to the sink, narrow thighs side by side.  Thoroughly washing
his delicate, doll-sized hands, the child smiled at his reflection in
the mirror as he began to brush, toothpaste carelessly frothing over
his lips and chin.  He'd been tied up all day, an hopping around the
house like a bunny rabbit had been fun!  He spit out the toothpaste
and rinsed his mouth, feeling clean and minty fresh, just like in
those stupid commercials.  Then the happy little boy hopped out of
the bathroom, arms bent, white hands and black bangs flopping.
	Matthew sat on the bed with his back against the headboard,
dressed in a white cotton undershirt and white cotton briefs.  Seeing
the man's matching underwear made Ian excited.
	"Hey!  We're wearing the same kind of underwear again!"
	"Are we?"
	"Yeah.  Look!  I'm Superman!  Whoosh!"  Skinny Ian thrust out
his arms and leapt in mock flight, falling across the man's bronze
muscular legs.
	"You mean you're Super Prince!" Matthew corrected, laughing
and tickling the child.  The child squealed and squirmed, writhing
under the man's large hands.  After a minute, Matthew lifted and sat
the gasping, laughing child between his outstretched legs and began
to loosen Ian's necktie and unbutton his collar.
	His tiny face a bright disc of joy, Ian raised his arms as
Matthew pulled the shirt and sweater vest over and behind the boy's
head, revealing Ian's white cotton undershirt.
	"Here's my legs!" announced the child, squirrelly, playful
and sexually aroused, still unable to distinguish between the two
emotions.  "I'm ready to wet my pants!"  The small child bent his
knees, purple shorts wedging high and tight in his crotch.
	The man groaned and swept his large hands over the shining
white skin of Ian's thin thighs.  In all his years as a doctor, the
man had never known the touch of silkier, softer skin.  "Hmmmm!
You're so pretty, Ian!  Such baby smooth leggies.  You know, if you
had grown up here with me, you'd have never worn long pants."
	"I bet, then, instead of feeling goofy in short shorts I'd
have felt goofy in long pants?"
	"Think so, baby?"
	"Sure.  And then that would have been goofy."  The boy
grinned, watching and feeling the man's caresses.  His pee-pee grew
happy.
	Several minutes passed, man and boy enjoying each other's
company.  Matthew held the outer sides of Ian's thighs and let his
wide thumbs stroke up and down over the tops of Ian's thighs.  Then,
the man's brown hands slid up Ian's white thighs so that the man's
thumbs could stroke the child's knees.  Then down, until the man's
hands rested against the hems of Ian's short pants.
	"Now.  May I please pull down your pants?" asked Matthew casually.
	Ian nodded and tensed as the man's thick fingers reached for
his belt buckle.  The boy no longer minded sitting around in his
underwear with the man, but it still felt kind of strange to let the
man pull down his pants.  There was something very unusual about
letting someone else take down your pants, Ian knew.  Something
private.  It wasn't something people did to each other all the time,
after all.
	"My Way?  How come you like pulling off my pants so much?"
	"Because it means that we're in love if you let me do it."
	The simple response was all that Ian needed to hear.
Sighing, he straightened his dainty legs and watched as the man's
large fingers opened the button, the zipper, then slide the little
purple pants down to his roped ankles.
	"Oh, Ian!  We are wearing the same kind of underwear!  How sexy!"
	The little boy giggled.  If not for the ropes and the tangled
nature of Ian's admittedly unusual clothes, man and boy could have
been models in an underwear ad, one of those simple, domestic scenes
of father and son getting ready for bed.
	Ian watched the man lightly trace an outline of his tiny
white briefs with his fingertips and suddenly understood what it
meant to feel "sexy".  Happily, the little boy patted his legs
against the mattress, kneecaps protruding above the lavender
stockings.  Ian remembered the day.

	"It feels funny, Mr. Way.  Let me wipe off my legs."  Ian
stood at attention but trembled as the man's hot, tickling sperm
slowly dripped like clear honey down his thighs.
	"No, no.  Let it dry on its own," said Matthew, snapping
photographs.  "Just remember how it feels, OK?  You'll want that
memory when you're a grown man some day."
	"I don't want to grow up," answered Ian, flat tummy
quivering.  The sperm really tickled.
	"Can you give me a salute? Like a Boy Scout?"
	The little boy straightened and puffed out his bony chest,
then slapped his baby hands against the sides of his thighs.
Suddenly, he saluted with his left hand, quick and sharp.
	"Good boy.  Good boy."
	As Matthew walked around the child, snapping photographs, Ian
stole glances at the man's enormous pee-pee, watching it slowly go
soft and disappear back into the black silk boxers.  Already, Ian
wanted he and Mr. Way to wet their pants again.
	"Hurry!  I can really feel it running down my legs!" the
child squealed.
	Matthew sighed, snapped one more photo, then knelt behind the
child and ran his hands up and down the child's thin thighs, from
knee socks to short pants.
	"Hey!  Don't wipe it in, wipe it off!"
	"No sense in wasting sperm, Ian.  We'll have to get used to
each other's sperm, you know, if we're going to keep making our
pee-pees happy.  Right?"
	"Well...right.  I guess.  I guess," said the boy, watching
the man's hands work the sperm into his thighs and knees until the
tickling went away and the sperm dried, leaving only tight feeling on
his skin and a faint, citric odor.  Then, giggling and hopping like a
bunny rabbit, the boy hopped after the man into the rec room where
they knelt and played cars together until dinner.

	"I really, really enjoyed playing cars with you today, Ian."
	"I did, too.  Which was your favorite car?"
	"The blue van."
	"The blue van?" Ian gasped in amazement.  Why would the man
like that car when there were all those other cool race cars?  He
snuggled back into the man's chest.
	"Yep."
	"Why?"
	"Because I thought of you and I in that van, Ian.  In the
back of it somewhere, like in the parking lot after school or after I
pick you up from one of your Boy Scout meetings."
	"Really?"
	"Uh huh."
	"Why?"
	"Oh...just because.  And I really, really enjoyed playing
with your pee-pee today, too."
	"So did I!" said the boy, watching his tiny erection jump and
bulge in his briefs.
	"Have you ever played with your pee-pee?"
	Ian thought of hanging on the tree outside the other day,
then hanging against the man.  But...he had played with his shorts
then and not his pee-pee.
"No, I haven't."
	"Would you like to?" sighed the man, his own erection needing
attention.  He lowered his face and hooked his chin over Ian's bony
right shoulder.
	"Your beard scratches," said the boy, nuzzling his cheek
against the man's.
	"You are so cute!" Matthew chuckled.  "I'd like to see you
play with your pee-pee, just the way you watched me play with mine."
The man reached into Ian's crotch and gently poked at the boy's
cherry-sized testicles.
	Ian gasped and felt a flush of excitement.
	Matthew wrapped his mammoth, trunk-like legs around the
tyke's dainty legs.  Again, the contrast in size, color, hair and
smoothness was striking.
	"This is neat," Ian chirped, gripping the man's left thigh
with both roped hands.  "Like you're hugging me all over."
	Matthew nursed the boy's genitals, barely touching the tiny testicles.
"When I was a little boy, I used to sit in bed wearing my shorts and
rubbing my legs.  I'd bend my knees and rub my thighs, thinking about
how my skin was so soft and smooth.  I'd twist and turn and, oh, I
don't know.  Touch my hips, my belt. Touch my shorts and my legs at
the same time."  The man's deep voice was soft and low as he relived
his memories.  He chuckled at the fact that he was confessing, for
the first time, his childhood masturbation ritual to someone.
Someone who happened to be a child.
	"How come?"
	"It would make my pee-pee happy.  I liked wearing short
pants.  I figured a lot of men liked me wearing them, too, because
I'd see men looking at my legs.  I imagined them touching my legs,
telling me I had nice legs."
	"Like what you tell me," declared the boy, breathing through
his mouth as the man continued to gently, gently tease Ian's
testicles through the tiny white panties.
	"Yes.  I felt so pretty in my short pants.  So cute.  So
boyish around grown men wearing long pants."
	Ian tried to imagine big Mr. Way as a little boy, but the
man's present size and strength made imagining Mr. Way any different
very difficult.  "I feel pretty...and like a little boy around you.
Did you dress like me?"
	Matthew laughed and smacked the tops of Ian's thighs.  The
boy gasped and twitched.  The light smack was arousing.
	"I wore short shorts but not suits.  I always liked short
suits on boys, though.  What I'd do is cut out pictures of English
schoolboys from magazines.  Then I'd lay in bed with those pictures
and look at them as I masturbated.  I'd pretend that those boys and I
were friends and that we'd play catch or tag together.  Then we'd sit
and talk and they'd let me pat them on their knees."
	Ian pursed his lips, then cleared his throat.  "Well, you can
forget all about those English kids now," he said, an unmistakable
note of jealousy in his high voice.  "I'm your friend now.  Right?"
	"Oh, yes!  You're my boy.  My only boy."  The man kissed the
skinny lad on the top of his head, then reached for Ian's roped
wrists and guided the lad's hands onto Ian's crotch.
	Head down, Ian watched.  It was the first time he'd touched
his own pee-pee when it was happy.  The thin, circumsized, two inch
pole was very very hard.  Ian's hands remained motionless.
	"I just...touch it," the child asked, completely innocent.
	"Uh huh. That's what you do."
	"And...like I don't need to be wearing short pants?"
	"No."
	Nestled between the man's thighs and arms, roped at his
wrists and ankles and held even more secure by his tangles of
clothes, it seemed that the only thing Ian could move was his hands.
His fingers.  So he did.
	"Like this?"
	Matthew's broad chest rose and fell with excitement as he
assisted the child to perform a first act that the child would repeat
countless times.  "Yes, prince.  Just like that."
	Silently, the child began to explore his tiny erection,
feeling its small rounded head and the silky hardness of its length.
Blue eyes wide.  staring at this hard little thing he'd had in his
pants all these years that could make sperm and, when happy, could
make Ian moan and twist and go tingly all over.
	Those feelings began to build once more.  Ian gasped, let go
a small moan, and then another.  Ian shivered.  He bucked, head
snapping back.
	"Does it feel good, baby?"
	"Uh huh."
	"Do you like masturbating?"
	"Uh huh."
	"May I watch you masturbate more often in the future?"
	"OK."
	Ian tried to twist and kick his legs as the sensations grew,
but the man's strong body and ropes held him tight.  "And...it's not
wrong for me to do this?"
	Matthew sighed and kissed Ian' on the cheek.  "You've heard
people say masturbation is naughty, haven't you."
	Starting to breath more heavily through his mouth, Ian
thought for a moment, then nodded.  "Yeah.  Kids tease each other and
say things like why don't you go play with yourself.  I...this is
what they mean, don't they."
	Matthew kissed the child once more.  Ian was so innocent.
He'd heard those taunts and never understood them until just this
moment.  "Yes.  But it's very normal and natural.  All people
masturbate, Ian.  Especially little boys.  Sweet little boys. Men
know.  Men know."
	Ian was really gasping now.  His hands didn't move much and
he wasn't stroking himself, just tracing his fingertips over his
erection.  He shivered.  He let go a high moan.  "I don't look funny,
Mr. Way?  I don't look funny?" the child asked, needing reassurance
from the man as he shared this first, intimate act of
self-exploration that was often experienced in private.
	"You look wonderful.  You look beautiful.  You should see
your face, Ian.  You look so beautiful masturbating."
	Rosy cheeks puffed out, the child nodded, black bangs over his eyes.
	"Let's have you take out your pee-pee.  It's better when you
can see and feel everything."
	"No!"
	"Why not?"
	"Because you'll see my pee-pee!"
	The man laughed gently.  "I know.  I'd like to.  Don't  be
shy.  You're already in your underpants."
	"But I'm not naked."
	"So sweet, prince.  So sweet."  Matthew kissed Ian now, over
his head, neck, shoulders, face.  After all they'd done, undressed
and tied up tonight and learning how to masturbate, Ian was still
shy.  Matthew had never known such love for another human being.
	A few minutes later, and Ian's shyness receeded as he felt
his orgasm approaching.  His narrow hips were shifting left to right.
"But...oh!  I...I...I just have to take it out, right?  I...uh!  I
don't have to take of my underpants?"
	"No."
	With surprising decisiveness, Ian fished through the fly of
his briefs and nimbly extracted his genitals.  The tiny male sex
parts seemed to make a curious flower, much like the flowers Mr. Way
grew in his garden.


	To Be Continued