Date: Sun, 24 Aug 1997 22:44:26 -0600 (MDT)
From: Boy-writer <bstory@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: John Allen (M/b) - part 6/8

JOHN ALLEN (M/b) - part 6

This is really a continuation of part 5, but I was afraid of exceeding the
limits of the anon server.

John Allen is a child and adolescent counselor in a wealthy suburb of a
large American city.  His favorite patient is Jeremy, a boy of 13 with brown
hair and green eyes, who apart from his angelic appearance is a complete
demon in his behavior.  Jeremy's latest visit to John's office has begun
with a mad chase through the hallways of John's mansion, during which Jeremy
has destroyed a priceless Ming vase and run down one of John's faithful
servants.

This part has actual sex in it (took me long enough, didn't it? :), so if
you don't want to read man/boy sex, or the law says you're too young to see
this, read no further.

Chapter 17 ----------

John carried Jeremy to the gym, turned on the light, and set him down. 
Jorge went back to check on Carlita.  Jeremy said one word:  "Cool."

John grabbed Jeremy's hand while he was still looking at the room and pulled
him toward the locker room.  "Neat, huh?  I just found it yesterday.  We can
play a lot of games here, but we need to get dressed first."  John felt like
a boy himself.

"What do you mean?  I'm dressed," Jeremy said, not looking at John but at
the room.

"You need to get dressed for gym.  Don't you do that at school?"

"We did at my old school.  I don't have gym now."  John had forgotten that
the boy was in a special school - or had his parents taken him out if it? 
He made a mental note to ask.

"Well, now you do, come on."  John looked back, but Jeremy didn't say
anything.  He was looking at the boxing ring.

They walked into the locker room, and John let go of the boy's hand.  The
man handed him some shorts and a t-shirt from the house's collection. 
"Here, put these on."

"Why?  I want to do the pegboard.  I can get all the way to the top.  Do you
know boxing?"

"We need to put these on so we won't get our regular clothes all sweaty.  I
can teach you boxing after you get dressed."

Jeremy frowned but took the gym clothes.  John took off his coat and tie and
hung them in a locker.  Jeremy put the clothes on the bench and looked back
out toward the gym.

John started to unbutton his shirt.  "Come on, get dressed!  Or we could sit
in the office and talk like before."

The boy laughed.  "I could destroy your office like before, you mean."
Finally, Jeremy sighed and took off his shirt.  John continued to unbutton
his shirt, staring at the boy, determined not to miss a moment.  Jeremy had
no hair on his narrow little chest, none on his underarms, none on his
belly.  He had an "innie."  His pecs did not stick out like a well-developed
man, but neither was his chest completely without shape like a young girl. 
The small brown nipples were perfectly proportioned for the boy.  Jeremy's
ribs did not stick out as in some children but were covered by a thin layer
of flesh.  As the boy raised his arms over his head to remove the pullover
shirt, John noticed that his belly pulled inward, outlining the bottom of
his ribcage and the top of his pelvis, loosening the jeans he wore so well. 
It was a hard-making experience for a boylover, and John was raging hard.

John finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulled out the tail, and hung it in the
locker.  He quickly pulled off his t-shirt and hung it up as Jeremy sat down
and started to untie his shoes.  "You can put your shoes back on after you
change into your shorts," he said, in a voice that seemed unfamiliar. 
Jeremy didn't say anything and didn't look up.

John sat down and slipped his own shoes off.  He then pulled the socks off.

"Whew!" Jeremy said.  "Your feet stink bad."

"I'll wash them off later," John said, looking forward to the shower they
would take together.  He got harder than ever, feeling a drop of wetness at
the tip of his dick.  Suddenly John was aware that he was hard and got up as
Jeremy did, finished removing his shoes.  The man turned his back to the
boy, not a good idea but necessary he thought, and took off his slacks
quickly, then his boxers.  He reached into the pile of clothes and found the
jockstrap, putting it on just as fast.  It tamed the erection to a degree,
though John's arousal would still be obvious to the observant.

John quickly turned back toward the lockers and looked over at Jeremy.  He
was rewarded with the sight of a boy with the top button of his jeans
undone, pulling down the zipper.  The man reached down absently and fumbled
till he found his shorts - loose boxing trunks.  He quickly slipped them on,
not taking his eyes off the kid for a minute.

Jeremy pulled his jeans down with apparent unconcern, then sat down and took
them all the way off.  John was thrilled at the sight of a boy in his
jockeys, sitting on a bare wooden bench.  He stared at the perfectly-formed,
hairless legs, the small bulge at the groin, the outline of the well-shaped
cheeks under the thin cotton fabric.  John could not have spoken then if he
wanted to - it would have come out an inarticulate croak.  Fortunately, he
was not called to; he simply reached down and grabbed his athletic shirt,
slipping it over his head.  The shirt reached halfway over his hardon,
already obscured by the loose trunks.

Jeremy, on the other hand, was taking his time.  He held up the shapeless
gray shorts.  "God, these are so lame.  Why do I have to wear these?"

John cleared his throat and managed to sound almost normal.  "That's all I
have right now.  Maybe I can buy you some new ones later."  John sat down
again and put on a pair of tube socks, never taking his eyes off the boy,
standing there in nothing but a pair of jockey shorts.  The man feasted on
the curves of the little body, the clear, perfect, hairless skin, the
rounded little bottom.

Jeremy sighed and put on the shorts, which turned out to be a little too
small.  As the boy pulled the shorts up to his bellybutton, as the old
shorts were designed to be worn, he saw that they left almost as little to
the imagination as the jockeys.  The perfect curve of the boy's ass was, if
anything, accentuated by the thin fabric covering it, the gray color
constrasting with the skin, drawing attention to the small globes.  The
shorts were, as in times past, short; they ended at the top of Jeremy's
thighs.  John regretted the current fashion for long shorts reaching to the
knees.

John took out the sneakers he had placed in his locker and slipped them on,
then started to lace them up as he watched Jeremy take the black t-shirt
John had provided and pull it over his head.  Again he watched the boy's
hairless chest stick out, his stomach pull in, as the shirt came over his
head.  The shorts were a little too small, but the shirt was way too large. 
It covered Jeremy like a mini-skirt, completely covering the shorts.  John
stopped tying his left shoe (the right one was already tied) and sat up. 
"Wait, that shirt is too big.  We'll have to find you another one."

Jeremy giggled and held out his arms.  The shirt was, in fact, falling off
one shoulder.  The way the boy was dressed, a black, cotton-knit dress
ending at the top of his thighs and falling off one shoulder, would have
been the height of fashion had Jeremy been a woman of, say, 23.  John noted
appreciatively that few women who wear such dresses really have the legs for
it, but Jeremy's legs outdid them all.  Even the hairdo was right, with
women these days saying "short hair is easier to take care of" and sporting
boyish looks.  John grinned evilly, thinking that if he put a necklace on
the boy and gave him a small pair of falsies, he could take him to any
nightclub in town - and be the envy of the other male patrons.

John got up and walked back to the closet.  He and Jeremy looked through the
clothes but found no shirt in his size.  Jeremy suggested that he not wear a
shirt this time, that John would buy him one later - a decision that John
was completely pleased with.  John got Jeremy to put on a pair of tube
socks, which he resisted, and John regretted, but it really isn't healthy
for a boy to go without socks all the time.  As it turned out, the socks,
which fitted perfectly, accentuated the boy's thighs.

After that, John thought that the games would be an anticlimax, but they
were not.  The first thing Jeremy wanted to do was climb the pegboard, and
the view was very good from below.  He persuaded John to try it, and the boy
easily beat him to the top - not that John wanted to win.  John came down
faster, though, and got another view of Jeremy swinging on a peg by one
stiff arm, his legs slightly drawn up, as he struggled to put the other peg
in a lower hole.  John told the boy to jump and he would catch him, but
Jeremy insisted on coming all the way down by himself.

Jeremy walked along the wall, looking at all the equipment.  He decided to
do the parallel bars, and John lifted the boy by the waist so he could
reach.  He stood below and behind the boy the whole time as he moved down
the bars.  At the end, Jeremy jumped off.  John caught him under the arms
and lowered him gently to the ground.

The boy ran off then and found some baseball equipment beside the wall.  He
picked up a baseball bat, and John's heart leaped - a dangerous weapon. 
Jeremy only swung the bat in the air a few times, though, albeit with
enthusiasm, and put the bat down.  "Do you play baseball?"

"Not really," John answered truthfully.  Jeremy looked disgusted.  "Maybe
you can show me sometime."

"Yeah, I'm good at all sports," the boy said simply.  "Let's do boxing now."

"Have you boxed before?"

"Yeah!" Jeremy said, and started shadow boxing in a kind of Bruce Lee-Arnold
Schwarzenegger kill-'em-first-ask-questions-later style.

"I mean in a ring like this, as a sport."

"No.  That's why I want you to show me."

"Okay," John said, reaching down and grabbing a catcher's mask from the pile
of baseball stuff.  "You need to put this on."

"Mike Tyson doesn't wear one of those," Jeremy said, and started to walk
off.

John caught him by the arm.  "Mike Tyson doesn't have a mother who would
kill his trainer if he got a black eye," John said, smiling.  Jeremy didn't
say anything but allowed John to put the catcher's mask on him.  They looked
along the nails in the wall and easily found a pair of gloves in John's
size, but there was no pair small enough for Jeremy.  They settled on the
smallest pair they could find, which turned out not to be too bad.  The
gloves were 1920's style, real leather, stuffed with straw, with about 1/3
the padding that modern prize fighters use.  It worried John somewhat, but
he figured he wasn't going to deck the kid or anything, and he could take
whatever punch the boy had in him.

John lifted Jeremy up, then climbed into the ring himself.  When John was
climbing through the ropes, Jeremy let fly with a haymaker right across his
chops.  The man nearly fell out of the ring but climbed back in, rubbing his
jaw.

"Nice shot," he said, "but the name of the game is defense.  When the other
guy goes to punch you, you block the punch, you dodge it, you don't get hit. 
Eventually, he gets tired and you don't.  _Then_ you hit him hard, like you
did me, he falls down, and the bout is over.  Got it?"

Jeremy danced around like a prizefighter, or so he thought.  He started
bobbing and weaving the way he thought a fighter would.  "Got it!" he said. 
John smiled to himself.

"So I don't hit him till he's tired?" Jeremy asked.

"No, you hit him when he leaves himself open, but early on you want to let
the other guy wear himself out first, you want to keep your energy till the
end.  You watch fights on TV?"

"Sure!"

"Well, do you see at the end of the fight how the fighters are both tired
and holding onto each other, so the referee has to break it up all the time? 
The fighter who is less tired at the end is the one who wins, usually."

"Cool.  I'm never tired, so I'll always win then."

"Not quite.  Sometimes one fighter leaves himself open and gets creamed
early.  You have to play defense.  Come here.  Come fight me."

Jeremy smiled and went over to John, bobbing and weaving like on TV, dancing
aimlessly on his feet, with his hands down near his waist, firing punches at
John that he easily dodged.  John let go one punch to the middle of the
catcher's mask, not at all hard, and Jeremy was on the mat.

"Okay, get up.  I'll show you what to do," John said, holding out his hand. 
Jeremy looked at him with undisguised hatred and got up by himself, batting
the hand away.  "Come here," John said.

John leaned over and grabbed the boy's wrists.  "You hold your gloves near
your face, like this.  That way, if the other guy goes to hit you in the
face, you can block it."

"What if he goes to hit me in the stomach?"

"If he hits you in the gut, you take it.  Here, tense up your stomach
muscles."

Jeremy did as he was told.  "I'm going to hit you, and it will hurt if your
muscles are loose.  Are you ready?"

"Yes."

John hit the boy in the stomach, not hard, obviously, but hard enough to
knock the wind out of him if he had been unprepared for it.  Jeremy was
knocked back a step, but soon regained his composure.  "Cool.  I mean, I
knew that.  If some kid goes to hit me in the stomach, I know how to take
it."

"Good.  But your stomach muscles need to be very strong to keep going
through a long fight.  That's why fighters do sit-ups all the time.  It
makes the stomach muscles strong.  Later I'll show you how to block shots to
your gut, but if you can get tense there and stay that way, you can take a
lot more shots to the gut than to the face.  The face shots you have to
block or get away from."

"That's why you keep your hands near your face."

"Right."

"Why do they jump rope then?  It's a girly thing."

John couldn't resist imitating Hans and Franz from Saturday Night Live. 
"They are a bunch of girly-men, you think?" he said with an exaggerated
accent.

Jeremy laughed.  "No, but why do they jump rope?"

"Because it strengthens the legs and trains them to jump."

"Like Bruce Lee!  Hah!" Jeremy said, kicking the air.

"No, this is boxing, not karate.  Kicking is against the rules.  A fighter
needs to be able jump back if the other guy is swinging on him and jump
forward if he's left himself open.  If the other guy leaves himself open,
you need to be able to leap forward and take advantage of it.  At the same
time, you need to keep your balance yourself so the other guy can't knock
you down like I did.  That's why you work on your footwork."

"I can trip the other guy."

"No, you can't, that's another rule.  Also, you can't hit the other fighter
below the belt."

"You mean I can't hit you here?" Jeremy asked and hit John square on the
dick, still semi-hard.

John thought quickly about how to respond to this and decided to play it
straight.  "No you can't.  If you break the rules, the match can be
forfeited, meaning you lose."

"Hmph," Jeremy said.

"Okay," John continued, "the first thing you should learn is how to block a
punch.  Stand here and I'll throw punches at you, and you block them."  John
got on his knees, thinking that would be easier than trying to stand for the
demonstration.  It turned out not to be so, for Jeremy was at the awkward
height where kneeling was too low and standing was too high.  Still,
kneeling gave a better view, so John took that route.

They practiced punching and blocking for almost an hour, not noticing the
time.  First John would throw punches at Jeremy, then vice versa.  Jeremy
managed to connect once with John's forehead and once with the bridge of his
nose, but there was no blood on either side.  John knocked Jeremy down
several times, but the catcher's mask prevented serious injury.  When John
looked at his watch, he was amazed at what time had passed.  They were an
hour and a half past the end of the session.  John felt sure that Jorge
would have come if Jeremy's parents had shown up.  Apparently they hadn't.

Still, the two needed to get cleaned up, since Lawrence and Allison could
show up at any time.  John called a halt; Jeremy stamped his foot but said
nothing.  The man climbed out of the ring first, then took the boy by the
waist and lowered him to the ground.

John's hardon, which had disappeared during the boxing drills, began to stir
as he realized what was coming, for though he had planned it all along, he
had simply forgotten that he planned to take a shower with Jeremy after
their "workout."  He briefly considered skipping it, but then he realized
that he smelled like he had been dead for three days - and Jeremy, though he
did not smell to nearly the same degree, was covered in sweat.  The smell of
an active boy appealed to John, but the smell of a clean one appealed more. 
Call him strange.  No, there was no way around it, they had to get cleaned
up.

Jeremy went into the locker room, took off his shoes and (unaccustomed)
socks, pulled off his shirt with lightning speed, and reached for the red
striped pullover.

"Wait a minute, sport.  We need to take a shower," John said.

"Awww, c'mon," Jeremy said.  "Get real.  This is not school, there are no
rules."

"There are my rules.  We're covered with sweat.  I can't let your parents
take you home like this."  Jeremy shot the man a baleful stare.  John
continued.  "I have to send you back the way I got you, or they might not
let you see me any more."  It was below the belt, against the rules, and
completely effective.  Jeremy rolled his eyes and pulled down the gray gym
shorts.

John walked over to his locker and quickly took off his t-shirt, shoes and
socks, never looking at the boy.  He thought about how he would handle this. 
His dick was beginning to grow soft as he deliberately focused on his worry.

Even at this late date, John still wasn't sure that Jeremy wanted anything
more that to be held and maybe some innocent (well, to the boy's mind,
innocent) touching.  The sight of John's horny eight inches pointing at his
nose might scare the kid.  John had to keep it under control, and that meant
not looking at Jeremy till he absolutely had to, then taking mental
snapshots while focusing his mind elsewhere.  Unless the kid wanted more. 
That thought was making John hard again, so he banished it.

John quickly took off his gym shorts and strap, then walked past Jeremy into
the shower room, merely glancing briefly at the kid to make sure he was
still there.  He was - playing absently with the gray shorts with a pout on
his face.  John called out, "Hurry up, they'll be here to pick you up any
minute."

It was a single shower room without stalls, tiled with porcelain in a
hideous shade of green.  There were about 10 nozzles along the walls. 
Carlita had thoughtfully placed soap and shampoo in the shower - one of
each.  A little _too_ thoughtful - his faithful servants were trying to fix
him up, he realized.  John thought about poor Carlita, hoping she had not
been seriously injured in the chase.  He'd give her a few days off, get
someone from a maid service in the city to cover.  He took the single bar of
soap and began to wash his chest and arms.

Jeremy finally walked in, stood before the nozzle next to John's, and turned
on the water.  He got it adjusted to the right temperature, somewhat cooler
than John liked it.  It gave John an idea.  He turned down the temperature
of his own water so that it was cool enough to be uncomfortable, but not
really cold.  Stay in the spray, and nothing would start pointing where it
shouldn't.

Jeremy had no apparent intention of staying in the spray.  He got himself
wet and turned to leave.  John caught him by the arm.  "Hey!  Come back
here and take a real shower."  He handed the boy the soap.

Jeremy looked John up and down with no visible expression, looked
disgustedly at the wall, and took the soap.  John watched as the boy
lackadaisically soaped his arms and chest, not even working up a lather.  He
was not cooperating, John thought.  Another challenge to his authority, and
with this boy, such challenges must be met.

"Here, give me that."  He took the soap from the boy, worked up a lather,
and soaped the boy's chest and belly.  John began to regret that he had not
turned his nozzle all the way cold, since he was beginning to stir, and
Jeremy was staring at the man's dick.  Or he seemed to be; maybe he was just
looking down.

"Hold up your arms," John said.  Jeremy held his thin arms over his head,
and John soaped them, his fingers easily reaching around.  He soaped the
boy's underarms, which made him giggle.  John told the boy to close his eyes
and soaped his face, neck and ears.  Jeremy did not like the man's fingers
in his ears, and John had to hold his head still to do them.

The man grabbed the boy's arm again and turned him so he faced the water. 
John started to rub Jeremy's face to rinse him off, but Jeremy pushed his
hand away and rinsed off himself.  "The ears too," John said, and the boy
complied exaggeratedly, as sullen children do when forced to do something
they dislike.

"Turn around," John said.  Jeremy turned with his back to the shower nozzle. 
John grabbed his arm again and turned him so his back was to John.  Now the
boy was facing away from him, and even though he was crouching under the
cold spray of his own nozzle, John felt his self-control begin to let go,
his dick begin to rise.  He worked up a lather in his hands and soaped the
boy's thin shoulders, the middle of his back, the small of his back.  He
marvelled at the delicacy of the sweet creature before him.

John thought quickly, reached up, and turned his water all the way to cold. 
He shuddered involuntarily, his body steeling itself to the assault, his
dick going down once more as he had wanted.  "Lift up your foot," he told
the kid.  Jeremy reached out with one thin arm, propped himself against the
wall, and complied.  John washed off the boy's foot, making sure to get
between the toes.  Jeremy giggled again.  "The other one," he said, and the
same thing was repeated.

John carefully soaped the boy's calves, thin as his own forearm, again
marvelling that something so delicate could live.  He worked up some more
lather and went to work quickly on the boy's right thigh.  Jeremy squirmed.

"You want to do the rest yourself?" John asked.

"No, I like the way you do it," Jeremy said.  John smiled through chattering
teeth.  He soaped up the right thigh, reaching around to get the front as
well, stopping just short of the little ball sac.  He then soaped up the
left thigh.

"Well, you tell me when you want me to stop," John said, stood up, and
worked up a lather in his hands, then went to work on the outside of the
boy's hips.  He wondered again at their narrowness.  He stepped out of the
cold spray for an instant, then thoughtfully stepped back in again.  John
reached out uncomfortably and soaped Jeremy's tender buns.

It was too far to be reaching.  John had to either step out of his own spray
or pull Jeremy back into it.  He couldn't pull the kid into a cold shower -
if anything would freak him out, that would.  The man stepped reluctantly
out of the spray and immediately felt his hardon begin to return.  As he
worked up more lather in his hands, he noticed Jeremy shifting his feet
slightly, moving them apart.  The boy moved his right hand in front of
himself, but John couldn't see what he was doing with it.

John grabbed Jeremy's left ass cheek and pulled it to the side, then took
his right hand and moved it up and down the boy's crack, savoring every
inch, but being careful not to seem to loiter there.  He ran his finger over
the little hole several times but did not linger.  He put his right middle
finger to his nose and thought to smell something besides soap.  He was
incredibly hard.

John rinsed off his right hand in the cold water, removed his left hand from
the boy's left cheek, and grabbed hold of the right cheek with his own right
hand.  The man crouched down again and reached between the boy's legs with
his still-soapy left hand, feeling the hairless seam between his legs,
barely touching the back of the boy's scrotum.  Jeremy briefly turned his
head to the side.  His eyes were staring, his mouth partly open.  The boy
faced forward again.

John stepped back into the cold spray again and started to work up more
lather.  Jeremy said, "You missed a spot," giggled, and started to turn
around.  John reached out quickly, grabbed the boy by the shoulder, and held
him still.  He worked up a good lather, stepped out of the spray again, and
started to soap the front of the boy's pelvis slowly, not touching his
genitals.

"Is this the spot I missed?" John asked, his voice sounding strange.  Jeremy
didn't reply.  John soaped boy's pelvic region above his dick, not touching
it, or not trying to, but he felt something briefly against the side of his
right hand.  Could this boy be hard too?  John was more turned on than ever.

John reached down and took the little balls in his right hand, soaping them
gently.  Jeremy sighed softly.  He soaped the boy's scant, soft pubic bush
with his left, noticing as he did so that he was right - Jeremy was as hard
as a rock.

John grabbed the boy's dick suddenly with his right hand and started moving
up and down on it.  Jeremy seemed to sway on his feet, then steadied himself
and rested his hand lightly on John's forearm.  John soaped the boy's dick
thoroughly, appreciatively noting that it was cut, a little over 4" he
thought.  He stopped and pulled his hands away.

"Okay, rinse off," John said.  Jeremy kind of danced under the shower.  John
stepped back into the safety of the cold spray again, feeling himself
shrink.  "No, rinse off _good_."  Jeremy put his back to the nozzle, shaking
his shoulders, then bent over and ran his hands over his legs.  He reached
back and ran his little hand between his cheeks, getting out all the soap
there.  John stood with his dick directly under the cold water and watched. 
Jeremy turned around and washed off his still-hard dick, then put his hand
under his balls, lifting them up, and rinsed there too.  "Don't forget your
toes," John said.  Jeremy smiled at John, sat down on the shower room floor,
and held up each foot under the spray.

"Okay, now your hair," John said, and unscrewed the cap on the shampoo
bottle.  Jeremy stood up facing John, who grabbed his shoulder and turned
him around.  The man stepped out of the spray again, put some shampoo in his
hand, plopped it down playfully on the boy's head, and started to work in a
lather.  Thank God it wasn't strawberry shampoo - Carlita was a nice girl,
but she had no taste.  John imagined how good the boy's hair would smell
when it was dry.  He finished up, pushed Jeremy back under the shower spray,
and started to wash his own hair in that damnably cold water.  He had felt
the boy hard, but he hesitated to mention it now; it might embarrass the
kid.  He would certainly bring it up later, though.  Take your time, John,
the kid's parents think you're a miracle worker, he told himself.  Yeah,
right, he smiled.  If they knew I was seducing him, they would ... they
would probably approve if that's what it took to get the little rat to
behave himself for a few days.  John mentally slapped himself for thinking
of Jeremy that way; the boy was too good, too pure for that.  He laughed
again thinking that "good" and "Jeremy" were two words that nobody had ever
put together before.

Jeremy shook him out of his reverie.  "Can I wash you?" he asked.  Then,
before John could react, Jeremy stepped under John's shower and jumped back. 
"God, your water is cold!  Come over here."  Jeremy grabbed John's arm with
both hands and pulled him into his own lukewarm shower.  John stumbled over
under Jeremy's nozzle.  He was under the boy's power.

Jeremy danced in under John's cold water and got the soap out of the dish in
the wall.  John stood obediently under the shower with his back to the boy,
the warm water falling on his chest.  Jeremy worked up a lather, then
dropped the soap.  He reached up and soaped John's shoulders.  John felt the
delicate little hands working over his shoulders, in the middle of his back,
along his sides (which, well developed in Costa Rica, were beginning to
develop "love handles" with the sedentary life of a counselor).

"Get down," Jeremy ordered, and John complied, kneeling on the shower floor,
his hardon returning with a vengeance.  "Lift your arms."  John held out his
arms to his sides.  "Back up a little."  John moved back on his knees a few
steps so that the spray was hitting his knees.  Jeremy went back and picked
up the soap, which had moved toward the drain in the middle of the floor,
came back, and soaped John's right hand, then moved up his forearm and over
his bicep.  Jeremy did not work up a lather in his hands; rather he held the
soap in his hand as he moved back and forth across John's skin.  The boy
soaped John's underarm very well and rather roughly.  He then went to the
left arm and did the same.

"Stand up," Jeremy said.  John stood up.  "You can put your arms down now,"
the boy said, which John did.

Jorge suddenly called out from the doorway of the locker room.  "Senor John,
Jeremy's parents are here."

Jeremy looked up for a minute, then started soaping John's calves.  "Tell
them to wait, we'll be out in a few minutes," John called back to Jorge. 
"Have Maria bring the blowdryer from my bathroom."  John didn't use the
blowdryer often, but it was handy to have if he was in a rush.  "Si, senor,"
Jorge said.  John thought he heard a chuckle.

"Lift your foot," Jeremy said, and John lifted his right foot as the boy had
done.  Jeremy soaped it thoroughly, pulling John's toes apart to get
between.  "The other one," the boy said, and he did the same on the other.

Jeremy was a lot quicker and rougher than John had been, but the man was in
seventh heaven anyway.  He pictured the naked boy behind him and tried to
catch a glance but could see little.  He felt the soft little hands moving
up and down on his thighs.  John's dick was standing at attention, its
single eye staring back at him.

Jeremy went to work on John's ass.  "You sure are hairy," he said.  He used
both hands on the right cheek, then went to work on the left.  John moved
his legs apart.

John felt the boy's hands working the crack between his ass cheeks and put a
hand forward against the wall to steady himself.  Jeremy did a very thorough
job, twisting his finger around the man's anus.  John was getting dizzy. 
Jeremy stopped and reached between John's legs, roughly soaping there.

"Now turn around and rinse off good."

This was the moment John had worried about, but he was too far gone to care. 
He turned around to face the boy with his hardon pointing straight at the
kid's nose.  Jeremy stared for a minute, then said, "Yours is pointing up
too."

"Yes, a man's dick gets like that when his body feels good."  John paused. 
"It feels good when you wash me."  He looked for a reaction but didn't see
any.

John rinsed his back off, then smiled at Jeremy and bent over as the boy had
done.  He rinsed off his legs with both hands, one at a time, then reached
back and rinsed off his ass.  He pulled his cheeks apart and felt the water
on his hole, then reached back and rubbed there.

Jeremy said, "Get down," and John knelt before the boy.  "Close your eyes."
Jeremy took the soap and rubbed the bar on the man's face.  He washed John's
ears thoroughly, and it hurt a little as the boy put his fingers in each. 
John realized why Jeremy hadn't liked it.  Jeremy leaned forward to wash the
back of John's neck, and the man felt the boy's breath on his face.

John kept his eyes closed as Jeremy rubbed soap on his chest.  "Stand up,"
Jeremy said.  John stood up, tried to open one eye, and was immediately
stung by soap.  He closed both eyes tight.  Jeremy soaped John's belly, then
paused.  "You have a big one," the boy said.

John couldn't resist any more.  He quickly turned and rinsed his face off so
he could see, then turned around to face the boy again.  John saw the
prettiest boy he ever laid eyes on.  Jeremy had a straight, short little
nose, just grown in at the bridge, still turned up at the end, lightly
peppered with a hint of freckles.  Two little ridges beneath it ran into a
thin pair of pinkish-red lips that seemed to beg to be kissed.  The narrow
line of the boy's jaw ran back to a delicate little earlobe.  John thought
ruefully of his own; Jeremy's, though, was made to be tasted and toyed with,
perhaps nibbled, but not bitten.  The soft, thin neck below that seemed like
a flower stem beaded with dew.  The narrow shoulders, softly curved, led
down to the collarbones, which seemed to be those of a bird.

Jeremy took the soap and began to rub the front of John's pelvis.  John took
the fragile wrist in his hand and said, "No, work up a lather and do it with
your hands like I did."

Jeremy said, "Okay," and furiously worked up a lather, his whole body
shaking.  John stood transfixed at the little body shaking before him, the
hard little dick moving madly from side to side, the little balls hitting
one hairless ivory thigh, then the other.  It was soon a good lather. 
Jeremy held the soap in his hand uncertainly for a moment, then handed it to
John, who reached back and placed it in the dish behind him, not taking his
eyes off the boy.

Jeremy set in with a vengeance, rubbing all around John's dick, scrubbing
hard as he ran his little hands through the man's copious pubic hair.  "Hey! 
Not so hard!" John said.  "You can hurt a guy if you go too hard down
there."

Jeremy smiled up and John and seemed to be thinking, and John wondered if he
should have said that.  This kid, after all, was surely storing that
knowledge for future use, perhaps against John.  The thought was a passing
one, for Jeremy soon began to soap John's balls, softly as the man had done
to him.

"Yeah, kid, like that," John said in a low voice.  Precum was oozing out of
John's dick like mad, but Jeremy didn't notice it, seeing as they were both
all wet anyway.  Jeremy washed them with both hands, at one point holding
them up with one hand while he soaped underneath.

"Now my dick, Jeremy," John said gutturally, "wash my dick."  Jeremy moved
his right hand up slowly from John's balls to the base of his dick and
grasped it, his fingers able to reach around, but barely.  The boy placed
his left hand above his right on the man's dick, locking his elbows, and
began to move up and down on it frantically, putting his whole body into it.

"Wait.  Slow down.  You can go faster when I tell you to," John instructed. 
Jeremy started moving his hands slowly up and down the man's dick, up to the
head, back down to the base, putting his whole body into it as before, but
moving more slowly.

"That's great, Jeremy," John said, putting his hands on the boy's straining
shoulders, as much to steady himself as to encourage the boy.  "Now I'm
going to show you something.  Have you seen a man cum before?"

Jeremy stopped, but did not let go of John's dick.  Jeremy thought of lying;
after all, he had heard and told dirty jokes at school and laughed as if he
knew what they were about.  He decided to tell the truth.  "No, what's
that?"

"Keep going, boy, and you'll see," John said.  Jeremy started up again. 
"Just a little faster.  Yeah, that's right.  Oh, yeah ... a little faster
now ...."

Suddenly John let go with a volley that flew right over the boy's head.  The
second shot hit him square in the face, dripping off Jeremy's eyelashes,
running down his nose, across his lips and down from the corner of his mouth
to his chin.  Four more blasts landed on the boy's neck and chest.  Jeremy
let go of John's dick as if it were a red-hot poker and stood flabbergasted. 
John grabbed him quickly, turning Jeremy so he had his back to him, then
turning both of them so that Jeremy was in the direct spray of the shower. 
The man got on his knees, holding the boy tight with his right arm as he
rinsed the cum off the kid's face with his left.  John's still-hard dick was
held in the space between Jeremy's thighs, with the head just touching the
bottom of his ass.  "That was great, Jeremy," he said softly in the boy's
ear, "you made me very happy."  John continued to rinse the cum off the rest
of Jeremy, trying not to linger, doing so anyway.

Jeremy put his hands on John's hand as it continued to rinse him off.  "I'm
sorry, I was just surprised, I guess."

"Nothing to be sorry about.  You did great.  Now when it happens to you, you
won't be surprised," John said.

"Does it feel good when you do that?"

"Better than anything in the world," John said, and kissed Jeremy on the
cheek.

"It felt good when you were rubbing me there before.  Can I do what you
did?"

John reached up and got the soap with his left hand, not letting go of him
with his right.  He worked up a lather between his hands, his inner forearms
moving on the boy's hips, as Jeremy watched.

John took Jeremy's little ball sac in his left hand and toyed with it, then
took the boy's small dick, still hard after all this time, with two fingers
and the thumb of his right hand.  He started to stroke the boy's dick, then,
continuing to stroke, he reached back with his left hand and, not pulling
away, he started to run his soapy fingers up and down Jeremy's crack. 
"Mmmm," was all Jeremy could say.

John went faster and faster on Jeremy's dick with his right as he ran his
left ring finger along the precious little line between his legs.  John
moved his third finger up the the boy's crack and back down again, then
twirled his little finger over the anal opening as he jacked the boy faster
and faster.  He felt Jeremy tighten up and knew he was close.  John stuck
the tip of his little finger in the boy's hole as Jeremy came.  It wasn't
much, and it mostly dribbled over John's hand, but it was the real thing.

Jeremy stood trying to catch his breath as John held him tight with both
arms.  "I guess you can, sport.  How was it?"

"Better than anything in the world," Jeremy said.

John quickly rinsed them both off, Jeremy mostly staring off into space,
occasionally looking at John with what looked like awe.  John thought evilly
of leaving his sperm in the boy's hair, but of course he rinsed it out; he
didn't want Jeremy's hair sticking together, his mother fussing over him
with a comb trying to get it out while Lawrence tried to hold him down.

By now, John realized, they were _way_ late, and Allison and Lawrence were
undoubtedly getting tired of cooling their heels in the outer office.  Good. 
John got towels for both he and Jeremy, handed one to the boy, and dried
himself off.  Jeremy just stood there looking at him with an inscrutable
expression, so John dried Jeremy off too.  The blowdryer was sitting on the
bench nearest the locker room door.  John took it back to the lockers they
were using, plugged it in, and placed Jeremy in his lap.  John took a comb
out of the back pocket of his slacks and blow-dried Jeremy's hair.  Jeremy
sat perfectly still.

The blow-drying made the boy look like a perfect little moppet - like one of
those irresistibly cute youngsters on TV or in the movies whose sole fault
is that they have _way_ too much hair.  It also made John hearken back to
what Jeremy looked like in the too-large t-shirt.  With his hair like this,
wearing that t-shirt and a small necklace, this kid would be fighting off
passes in any singles bar in the city.  John had half a mind to try taking
him out as his "girlfriend" sometime, if things continued as they were
going.

Jeremy, again, shook John out of his reverie.  The naked boy took the
blowdryer out of John's hand and reached for the comb.  "I get to do you
now," he said.  John obediently handed over the comb, and Jeremy set to work
on the man's hair.  He was a bit rough, as usual, but John didn't say
anything.  Jeremy worked the blowdryer like a demon, shaking it constantly,
and John regretted that most of the time the kid was standing behind him.

"Done!" Jeremy said, smiling, and handed John the blowdryer and comb.  John
unplugged the blowdryer and put the comb back in his pants pocket.  He
shuddered to think what his hair must look like but resisted the temptation
to comb it in front of Jeremy, undoing the boy's "good" work.

"Good!  Now hurry up and get dressed, Allison and Lawrence are waiting for
us," John said.  He avoided saying "your parents," though he had gotten away
with it before, remembering Jeremy's fantasy about having been kidnapped.

Jeremy let out his breath disgustedly, but put on his clothes.  John did so
too, watching the little angel beside him all the while.  Little angel - did
he really think that?  This was a demon if ever one came to life - except he
didn't seem like one at that moment.

When they were dressed, John told Jeremy to go check and make sure the
boxing gloves were hung up.  He knew they were, as did Jeremy, who protested
the same, but eventually did as he was told.  John took a quick glance in a
mirror and decided Jeremy hadn't done a bad job at all with his hair.  John
only had to touch it up in a couple places.

Jeremy came back as John turned away from the mirror.  "Everything's back
where it goes," he said, "and you look fine."

John smiled to himself, then turned the smile on the boy.  "Well, let's go
then."

"I want to stay here.  I don't want to go home."

"You'll see me next week."

Jeremy went to punch John, but the man blocked it as he had been showing the
boy.  He grabbed Jeremy by the wrists and pulled him close.  "We'll be
together next week again.  I'll ask your parents if you can stay longer,
maybe the weekend."

"They're _not_ my parents!" Jeremy said, and John realized his mistake.

"Okay, sorry, Allison and Lawrence.  I'll ask them, if you're good, to let
you stay the weekend next time."

Jeremy stood staring at his shoes, one of which was kicking the floor
petulantly.  "Okay," he said very softly, seeming suddenly very childlike,
almost infantile.  "Would you carry me back like you did before?"

John picked up the boy but did not sling him over his shoulder as before;
rather, he held Jeremy by his bottom with his left arm and put his right
across the boy's back.  Jeremy put his arms around John and rested his head
on the man's shoulder.  John carried him like that all the way back to the
outer office, savoring each step.  Jeremy did not seem heavy at all.

When they got back, Lawrence and Allison stood up rapidly, their mouths open
in shock.  They had left one boy and were getting back a completely
different one - the one they had always hoped they would have.  John put
Jeremy down and held his hand.  He leaned down and said to Jeremy, "I need
to talk to your parents for a minute."  John winked at the kid, not so the
parents could see.  Jeremy winked back and said, "Okay."

Jorge was grinning from ear to ear, and John knew he would burst into
laughter at any moment, so John shot a stern glance at his servant and the
smile disappeared.  John escorted Jeremy's parents into the inner office. 
Jorge shot an even sterner glance at Jeremy, who simply sat down in a chair
and smiled back.

John told Lawrence and Allison that he felt that he and Jeremy were making
real progress.  They nodded in eager, dumbfounded agreement.  Tonight's
session had run long, John said, firing a glance at Allison, who averted her
eyes, but in a way, it had been a good thing, he continued, since it showed
what could be accomplished in a longer session.  John reminded Lawrence of
the proposal he had made last time, of keeping Jeremy for a few days.  John
said that if they agreed, he would reschedule his Saturday and Sunday
appointments and work with Jeremy full-time the following weekend.  They
readily agreed.  John told them to pack a small overnight bag for Jeremy,
only clothes and perhaps a favorite stuffed animal if he had one?  He
didn't.  Clothes for three days, three sets of pajamas, a pair of swim
trunks just in case.  They would drop Jeremy off at his regular time on
Friday night and pick him up on Monday morning.

Lawrence protested that they couldn't pay for that many hours, and John
replied that Lawrence had done a terrific job with the taxes and John's
finances generally (which was true).  Lawrence opened his mouth to protest
again, and Allison kicked him.  He shut his mouth.  It was decided that
Jeremy would spend the following weekend at John's house.  John asked them
to write down any allergies the boy had, and they replied that there were
none.

John told Allison to start keeping a log of all of Jeremy's activities, in
as much detail as possible.  He emphasized that she should leave nothing
out.  Lawrence said he would help.

As they walked out of the office, Jeremy looked anxiously up at John, who
smiled and gave him a furtive "thumbs up."  Jorge saw it and stifled a
chuckle, which drew another stern glance from John.  Allison reached for
Jeremy's hand, and he took it like a little angel; Lawrence reached his arm
around behind his wife and squeezed his son's shoulder as they walked out -
the perfect family.

As soon as they were gone, Jorge burst into uncontrollable bouts of
laughter, and John decided to let him have his fun.  Before long, they were
both laughing.


That's all for now ...