Date: Fri, 17 Jul 2015 08:09:09 -0400
From: Lytle Peters <lytle.peters@gmail.com>
Subject: Matt Clarke, Part 3, Adult-Youth

I'm sitting in the stall in the men's room at the public library, waiting.
It's 3:02. I've scanned the walls for new art work and messages, but
there's only a generic "Suck my Dick" scrawled in a fairly young looking
script. Adding "I'd love to" and an email address below it, I slip the
permanent marker back into my jeans pocket. Nothing will come of that, but
then again, one never knows. A week ago I'd never have figured to be
sitting here waiting as I am for Matt.

The hallway, which leads to the right from the building's main door and
before you even open the doors to the library itself, has been completely
quiet since I walked down it to the door marked Men, opened that squeaky
door, opened the inner door another five feet inside, and then stepped into
the small bathroom, with its sink and two urinals on the left and its
single stall perpendicular to that wall. The designer has kindly positioned
the stall door so that if one peeks through the right side crack, one is
directly in line with the lip of the closest urinal. This foresight means
that the users of the facility have not been required to start excavating
peep holes and otherwise damaging the city property. It was precisely this
arrangement in another men's room many years ago when I was the boy instead
of the man.

The phone was ringing when I walked in the door and threw my backpack onto
the bench. I hurried to pick it up.

"Hello?" I said in my 5th grade voice.

"Hi, Jackie," said someone whose voice I didn't recognize. A man's voice,
definitely not one of my friends.

"Hi?" I said, wondering if I should know the person on the other end of the
line.

"Hi," he said again, then "How's my favorite boy today?"

"OK. Who is. . ."

"You  gonna come see me tonight?"

"Do what?"

"You gonna come see me tonight? I'd like that a lot."

There was something weird about his voice, kind of breathless. "No," I
said, "I don't even. . ."

"That's too bad, Jackie. I was hoping you'd come see me tonight. You and I
could have a lot of fun together."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun. You know what kind of fun I'd like to have with you, Jackie?"

"N-No."

"I'd like to start by taking all of your clothes off, Jackie, and then
playing with your hard little pecker."

"My. . . what. . . no."

"Come on, Jackie. Everyone knows you're the kind of boy who loves to have
his pecker played with."

"No," I said instinctively, even though he was certainly right about me.
All the older boys in the neighborhood came to see me when they were horny.
And some of the younger ones too. But all the older boys knew that Jackie
was always willing to play.

"And you know what part of you I'd most like to play with?"

"No. What?"

"Your," he hesitated and then in his dirtiest sounding voice, said, "pussy."

That knocked me back on my heels. "I - I don't have one. I'm a boy."

He actually chuckled. "Oh, you have a pussy, Jackie. And I'd love to put my
finger and then my tongue inside it and make you feel really really good."

"I'm a boy."

"But you're a special boy, Jackie. You've got a hot little pecker and balls
in the front and a sweet little pussy in the back."

"I -- I'm -- I. . ."

"And if you'd come see me tonight, I'd show you how good I could make all
of them feel."

"I'm -- I don't know. . ."

"Come on, Jackie. You do know how much you'd like to have your pecker and
your pussy played with. You want to come see me, don't you, Jackie."

"But I'm not even sure. I mean, I'm not. Who is this?" I realized my pecker
was hard.

"This is someone who knows how to make your pecker and your boy pussy feel
really, really good. Someone who knows how to make a boy go crazy with
pleasure, Jackie. You know you want it, don't you, Jackie. Your pecker is
hard right now, isn't Jackie, just thinking about it."

"Yes," I said before I realized what I'd admitted.

"Yeah, I knew it. Come see me, Jackie, and let me do wonderful things for
you."

"Well, maybe. . . "

"That's a good boy. I can make you feel so much better than any of your
friends can. I know how to please a boy."

"Well. . ."

And against all reasoning, I ended up meeting the man. In a restroom very
much like the one where I'm sitting now. And he was right. He did know all
the right places to touch and tickle and lick, places I'd never imagined
could or should be touched and tickled and licked. My cock has been growing
with the replaying of this memory. And then I hear the unmistakable squeak
of sneakers on the linoleum floor in the hallway. They are getting closer,
and then they stop. I hear nothing for probably five seconds. Then the
outer door to the men's room begins its grating but useful squeak as it
opens slowly. I hear it close again, but the inner door hasn't opened. Did
the owner of those sneakers turn and leave? Or is he standing between the
two doors and trying to make a decision? After what feels like a minute of
silence, the inner door opens and then draws itself closed again. I can see
nothing from where I'm sitting. I force myself to breathe slowly.

Then someone is standing in front of the urinal. I lean slightly to the
right so that my eye is in line with the door crack. It's a boy with long
brown hair falling over his ears, wearing a red t-shirt and washed-out navy
blue sport shorts and sneakers, no socks. He lifts his t-shirt over a flat
tummy with his right hand so that he can hook the elastic waistband in the
front of his shorts with his left hand and pull them down enough to free
his boy parts. Instinctively, I draw in my breath. Those boy parts are on
display right outside my door crack, and they are beautiful. A creamy white
shaft of maybe two inches with a gorgeous pale purple mushroom head, not
hard but not flaccid either, this protruding above a tight smooth hairless
ball sack. The boy is just standing there showing off his goods, not
peeing. This has to be Matt.

I clear my throat. The boy looks to his right and we make
blue-eyes-to-blue-eyes contact through the stall door crack.

"Why don't you bring that in here, Matt, and let me see him up close," I
say quietly. At the same time, I reach and unlatch the stall door. It
swings back a few inches, inviting.

A few seconds later, the boy pushes the door open enough to step inside,
still holding his shorts down and still with his boy cock and balls fully
exposed.

He looks at my six inches and says, "Yours is really BIG."

I force myself to look Matt in the eye. "Yours is absolutely perfect."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is. It's beautiful. Latch that door behind you and come here."

When he steps between my knees, I slide his shorts to his ankles in a
single smooth motion. Running my hands up the backs of his shockingly
smooth thighs and across his butt, I hook his tshirt at the bottom and pull
it up and over his head, mussing his brown locks. I hang the tshirt on the
door handle and then take in the sight of a practically naked 11-year-old
standing before me. Perfectly proportioned. Perfectly smooth. Perfectly
beautiful.

"Wow," I whisper, "Look at you."

He smiles shyly as I wrap my arms around him and pull his belly into my
face. Velvet doesn't begin to describe the softness of his flesh. That's
when I realize he's trembling.

"It's OK," I say, "No one's gonna hurt you." And I plant a kiss on his
belly button to lighten the mood, but at the same time I brush a finger
along the underside of his boycock. It twitches in response, so I do it
again. "You like that?" I ask and look up into his baby blues. He nods.
"Then let's do it some more." My finger finds his shaft again. It's rock
hard now, so hard that it is nearly touching his belly.  I run my finger up
it to the sensitive head, then down and across his ball sack. Matt exhales
as though he's been holding his breath. Maybe he has. "Do you mind if I
kiss it?" I look up and he's shaking his head No. So I move my hands to his
hips and lean down and plant a tender kiss right on the head, my lips
slightly parted so that he gets hot breath and a touch of tongue. Again he
exhales. Hearing no objection, I go in for another, this time with lips
open so that I slip the mushroom inside my mouth and tickle it with my
tongue. Matt rises up on his toes. "Again?"

He nods and whispers, "Yes, please."

As I take his mushroom head again into my lips, I slide them about halfway
down, my hands reach around to squeeze his buns, and my tongue flicks
across his sensitive spot.

"Oh jeez.  . ."

My lips slide all the way down to the base of his little shaft, my tongue
licking round and round his sensitive head. I suck it. Then I slide my lips
up so that just the mushroom head is in my mouth, then down to the base
again, tongue swirling continuously. I suck it. And I feel Matt standing on
his toes.

"You like that?"

"Oh jeez. . .," he says again. "Nobody ever did that."

"Do you want me to suck your hard cock some more?"

"Yessss," he says instantly.

This time my lips slide all the way to the base, then up as far as the
head, then back to the base, then up to the head. I'm sucking it deeply. I
move a bit lower and my tongue swipes his tight ball sack. My fingers find
his little dime-sized nipples and tweak them. They're hard but not terribly
responsive. Give him another year or two and I'll have them vibrating like
violin strings. I'm lapping at his balls, my hands back on his buns. Then
back to work on his pulsing cock, down the shaft, up to the head, swirling
tongue around the head, then down the shaft. I suck it. Making love to his
boy cock. I suck it deeply. My fingers start to caress his crack, probing a
little deeper each time my lips reach the bottom of his shaft. His crack is
a little moist with a day's sweat. He hasn't showered. He's come straight
from school. I bring my right hand around so that I can smell his essence.
I want to eat it. I keep working up and down his cock, sucking it. Making
love to it.

Matt's head is thrown back. He is giving himself over to this moment.

I pull off the cock for a second, then lean back in and start to swirl my
tongue just around the mushroom head. Over and over and over and over.
Around and around. Always swiping across his sensitive spot on the
underside, which isn't the underside now as the boy cock is so erect.
Making love to his cock head. And slipping my middle finger deeper into his
moist crack. He's not resisting that touch. I push the whole cock into my
mouth again and suck hungrily. He rises up on his toes. My finger finds his
rosebud. I'm mouth-riding his cock now and he's letting me tickle his boy
pussy lips. We suck and tickle for at least another minute. Then I pull off.

"Step out of these shorts, Matt. And turn around."

"Wh-Why?" he asks even as he's doing it.

I lay his shorts across the toilet paper dispenser. "Bend over just a
little," I say, as my hands spread his cheeks. I decide on a direct
approach. I plunge my tongue deep into his crack as far down as I can
reach, then give his whole crack a big lick all the way up to the top. Like
someone trying to catch the drips from a melting ice cream cone.

"Ohhh, oh my gosh, nobody's ever. . ."

I'm already pushing my tongue deep into his moist, slightly smelly crack.
He bends over as though touching his toes and my tongue finds his rosebud.
I tongue tickle it madly. I'm pulling his cheeks wide apart, licking his
smelly crack. My nose is now buried there in his boy essence, my tongue
playing with his rosebud, probing it, probing it, probing it. I reach
around with my right hand and my fingers find his cock again. I begin to
jerk it off in time with my tongue probes. I can hear the boy breathing
hard. His rosebud opens slightly and my tongue slides inside him, then
back, then in, back, then in. Tongue fucking his hot boy pussy lips.
Jerking off his cock. Tongue fucking his boy pussy. He's actually panting
now. My lips are caressing his pussy lips, now sucking his ass. Now my
tongue deep up inside him, making love to his boy pussy. Still jerking his
cock. Sucking his hot little ass. Eating his hot ass juices.

Then I pull out suddenly. He starts to stand up again with a "Wh-why. . ."
but I turn him back around and plunge back down on his hard cock. He lets
out a long "Ohhhhhh" as I suck it deeply and lap my tongue around and
around and around the mushroom head. Matt is standing on his toes. Then he
lets out a little squeal and I feel his cock pulsing in my mouth, trying to
shoot the cum that is still at least another year away. I stop swirling my
tongue, knowing the cock is too sensitive now. We are frozen in tableau for
what seems like minutes, his cock buried in my hot mouth. Pulsing. Then I
feel him settle back onto his feet. Only he keeps settling. He drapes
himself across my back, crushing my head in his tummy and groin. He lies
across my back, breathing deeply. "Wowww," I hear him whisper airily.

"Wow indeed," I try to say but I'm smothered in his hot belly.

When Matt finally moves to stand, I hold onto his hips. He won't at first
make eye contact. I am grinning at him. Eventually he looks at me
sheepishly, embarrassed at what we've done? At how much he has given in to
the pleasure? I can't help grinning. He gives me a little smile.

"You're incredible," I say, reaching over to give his still half-hard cock
a squeeze. "Glad you came?"

He nods.

"I could do that with you over and over," I say, giving him a wink.

He reaches for his shorts and says breathlessly, "How about tomorrow. . . ."

**********
Comments to lytle.peters@gmail.com and, as always, if you enjoyed this
story, or even if you didn't, please make a donation to keep the Nifty site
going. If you'd like to read my other stories, I'm under the Authors index
as Lytle Peters.