Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2016 11:02:21 +0100
From: Boy Ahoy <mj290858@riseup.net>
Subject: Is it true that you like boys

Gay Adult/Youth
Gay Urination


IS IT TRUE THAT YOU LIKE BOYS
by Boy Ahoy

Vignette, M/b

Disclaimer: Don't be fooled by little boys who knock at your door on
Halloween, looking for love. Slam the door in their cute little faces!

Author's note: This is more low key than my usual stuff. It is based on
a real-life incident told to me by a reader I care much about.

Nifty is a beautiful garden with many beautiful, fragrant flowers. Sure,
some of the smell like little boy pee, but that is part of the charm.
The gardener needs money to keep it open, so consider donating a small
amount! See how here:
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


On with the story:

______________________


Halloween. Used to be my favourite holiday, now - not so much.

The day before Halloween, my phone buzzed and opened a window showing a
stern woman coming through the low gate between my garden and the
street. She marched up to my house with firm steps, and rang the silent
door bell, then knocked at the door.

After a few incidents, I had two motion-detecting cams installed, one at
the gate to the property and one at the door, to avoid unpleasantness,
name-calling, violent drunks, the kids who ring the bell and run.

The woman was trying to peek through the small window at the top of the
door. The fisheye view of the cam above the door made her nose look big
- most fitting, considering what she was here for.

I opened. She didn't say anything, just held out a paper. It had a
pumpkin on it with a large X over it. I looked at it, then reached
behind me, on the hall table, and showed her a similar sign.

- Thank you, but I am good, I said. She looked flustered, then lowered
her arm.

- Well. Make sure you put it on the gate!

- I will, I said. - Thank you for your concern.

She turned and went away without a word.

See, the register is public, and follows you wherever you go. I even
moved to a quiet suburb, and found a cheap, dilapidated house at the end
of a cul-de-sac, trees between me and accusing eyes. Work I could do
from home. I kept to myself, and shopped far away.

These days, on Halloween, my house is dark, as is my mood.

Which means that I was surprised when my phone buzzed, telling me there
was someone at the door. The gate cam hadn't gone off. I wondered if it
was broken.

The camera showed a tiny Batman, jumping up to ring the disconnected
doorbell.

Then three timid knocks.

I went to answer the door, fully intending to shoo the tyke away.

I opened the door with a frown on my brow, but before I could say
anything the kid said:

- Is it true that you like boys?

My mouth stayed open for a few seconds. Little Batman was holding an
orange plastic bucket half full with wrapped candy with one hand, and
had the other hand in his groin. He looked nervous, like he had to pee.
His big, round eyes glinted in the porch light.

I felt my face flush, and looked up the graveled foot path to my garden
gate, half expecting to see an angry crowd with pitchforks and torches.

- Yes. But you shouldn't...

He saw me looking towards the gate and interrupted me.

- I came through the back yard. Nobody saw me. My mommy said I shouldn't
go here because you touch boys.

His voice was high pitched, but hoarse. It sounded like a sexy whisper
to me. I shook my head to clear it from those unhealthy thoughts,
swallowed, then answered.

- I did, before. But I don't any more.

- Why? he said, simply.

- Because I went to prison for it. Grown men shouldn't touch boys.

- What if the boy wants to be touched?

Oh god almighty. I was now sweating, although the air was cool. But I
held fast.

- Even if the boy wants to be touched.

- Don't you want to anymore?

- I... well, it doesn't matter if I want to or not. I am never going to
prison again.

Now he was squirming, grabbing his crotch and looking very
uncomfortable.

- I really have to pee. Can I use your bathroom, please?

- I don't think...

But he had already skipped past me into the hallway. He spotted the door
with the relief of a small boy peeing and rushed inside. Immediately he
exclaimed:

- Oh...

- What? I said, thinking that he probably peed himself on purpose to
lure me inside.

- I peed my pants! Can you help me? he said, in his best baby voice.

I sighed. If anyone had seen him coming inside, I was already fucked. I
went into the bathroom. His black sweatpants were soaked, and he was
standing in a little puddle. I started taking off my clothes.

- Does that mean you're going to touch me? he said.

- Yes. And much more, I said.

- Yay! he said.




_______

Thank you to Carl, who told me about that dreary Halloween when a
fidgety little boy asked him the title question. Big hugs.

Thank you also to Zach, who takes time he doesn't have to help me write
gooder, and also spurred me to write this little thing when he wondered
how much it would take to break his resolve.

I love feedback, fantasies, experiences - which sometimes turn into
stories like this. Short or long, drop me a note on
mj290858@riseup.net