Date: Sat, 8 Nov 2014 00:11:37 +0100
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Memphis Boy - Chapter 1

MEMPHIS BOY
CHAPTER 1
By Zachyboy
M/b, fingering, rimming, oral

The following story is a work of fiction. It involves sexual situations
between an adult man and an underage boy. If this type of material is
illegal where you live or you find it offensive, please leave.

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And now, on with the show.

# # # # # # # # # #

CHAPTER 1. "A STALL IN THE MALL"

# # # # # # # # # #

Dear Jess,

Sorry it's been so long since I've written you. I know I've been settled
into the new place for a few months now it's completely shitty I haven't
flown you in for a visit yet, but fuck me Jess, when I tell you what's been
going on here the past two weeks, I know you'll understand. I know you'll
approve. Fuck, I know you'll stand up, take your dick out of your pants,
bang it on the table and applaud; a cock-sucker's standing ovation.

I'm not even sure how to set this up the right way. This is not one of
those "once upon a time" boylove stories where everything starts out slow
and we groom him and groom him and groom him until finally we've got a cock
in his ass. Oh fuck, Jess. This one went from zero to sixty in
ten-point-five seconds like they say in the fucking car commercials. This
one shocked even ME.

This kid is hot, Jess. And yeah, fuck you, I know I say that about every
kid, but oh fuck, hear me out, this kid is HOT. This kid is so fucking hot
he doesn't even KNOW he's hot. He's dirty. He's kinky. He's totally
sweet. He's totally fucked-up. He's a living, breathing, walking dichotomy
between so-fucking-pure you could wrap him up in fleece and call him a lamb
– and so fucking cock-banging nasty, I've seen him do things I've never
seen a 12-year-old do in my life, Jess. In my LIFE. And you of all people
know that's a pretty big boyful buffet.

So, if you'll pardon my hastily scratched notes and typos here – my head
is still spinning – and if you'll forgive me once again for sending this
email about two weeks later than I should have – here's what's been
happening with this crazy new kid. David's his name. Dave. Davey.

He's my first Memphis boy. 12-years-old and hot as a fucking bonfire. And
he doesn't even know it, Jess. That's what makes him so cock-knocking
hot. The gorgeous little cock-hound doesn't even have the first fucking
clue how hot he is. How with all of the stuff he does, he could have any
guy out there. Not a hint, not a clue. And thank you, Almighty Jesus, he
bumped into up with me.

But fuck. I'm way ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

# # # # # # # # # #

So, I'm in Germantown, Tennessee now, which is just a piss squirt away from
Memphis, and if you head up Poplar Avenue from my house, sooner or later
you hit the Kirby Woods Mall, which is exactly what you'd expect a mall to
be; all decked out in the usual shit – restaurants, a movie theater next
door, food court, a great little bookstore. That's where I saw him first –
in the bookstore.

He was 12 – and a small 12 at that – not tiny, not bony, but
skinny-sweet-pretty. God, was he stunning. The reddest most beautiful
lips. Blonde-brown hair. Almost a shade of red when the light caught it the
right way. Soft little freckles up high on his face, right under his baby
blue eyes. Button nose and shiny peach cheeks. Beautiful thin neck I wanted
to kiss on the spot. And a smile that lit up heaven, Jess. A clerk talked
to him. A high school boy. And my boy smiled back. White even teeth, with
just the smallest gap between the front two. Just a tiny one, like he was
still growing into them. And it was beautiful. A smile that makes your
heart melt and your cock hard.

And I watched him in that bookstore. And I saw him look around and slink
over to the magazine section. I was aisles away, but clearly this kid had
some shoplifting in mind. I could tell by the way he kept looking
around. And sure enough, when he thought the coast was clear, his little
hand reached out whisked a Tiger Beat off the shelf...or one of those
tween-girl fan mags – and rolled it up, stuffed it down the back of his
pants and pulled his t-shirt over it so quick it was like a magic
trick. Like playing poker with a card shark. It took maybe two seconds. The
kid was good. He'd clearly done it before.

And a teen idol magazine?  Now that was interesting. My gaydar on the kid
went from "pleasantly ambiguous" to "shields up, red alert, get ready
spermies, we're going in."

# # # # # # # # # # #

I followed him into the food court where he ordered a Coke and french fries
from Hot Dog on a Stick, counting out scrunched little dollars from his
tight little pocket, then he sat down at a table reading his magazine. I
sat five tables away. And you know what was funny, Jess? The kid reached
into his backpack, pulled out the cover from a different magazine, and
wrapped it around his Tiger Beat. I didn't know what he was doing at first,
but when he had it all squared away, I had to grin at his ingenuity. He'd
taken a Sports Illustrated cover and wrapped it around his jack-off rag. He
held the magazine open but close to his chest, glancing down with little
furtive peeks, but anybody walking by would swear he was reading a sports
mag. Good for you, little gay boy, I smiled to myself. Good for you.

He ate his fries carefully, one at a time. Dipped them in ketchup. Licked
his lips. Sometimes stopped to suck the salt off his fingers, and that
alone almost sent me to the moon and back, watching those slender little
fingers go into his mouth, his perfect lips and tiny tongue fellating them
casually, not even knowing he was giving me a stage one coronary and a
stage four boner not fifteen feet away. I tried to look casual. I tried not
to stare at him. But he looked up and caught me, watching his slender
fingers go absent-mindedly in and out of his mouth,
sucking. Oops. Caught. Embarrassed, he smiled.

Fuck, Jess. Do you know what it does to your cock when a 12-year-old boy
sucking his fingers looks up at you and smiles sweetly and blushes? He
might as well have gobbled my cock on the spot, it got that hard, that
fast. He smiled, put his magazine in his backpack, took one last sip of his
Coke, took his trash to the garbage can and set his tray on top. He looked
over his shoulder and smiled again. He started down the long aisle at the
end of the food court, heading for the bathroom.

Fuck, Jess. Now what do I do? Do I follow him in? Jesus, man, it was only a
casual smile. It wasn't like he hung a sign around that said, "Hey, Guy I
Don't Know, follow me into the men's room and see if you can fuck me." Poor
kid likely needed a quick piss and he'd be out in half a minute.

But he wasn't out in half a minute. Or two minutes. Or five. And I sat
there watching the hallway thinking, "is there a back exit to the mall I
don't know about?" I didn't think so, but the clock was ticking on his
restroom visit. Six minutes. Seven. Now eight. And now I'm thinking, man,
he's been in there a long time now, even if he's taking a shit.

Nine minutes. Ten.

Fuck it. I'm going in. At this point I'm thinking, maybe he really was
beckoning me in with that smile. Maybe he really was inviting me to
follow. And you know me, Jess. I'm not going to miss that chance. No
fucking way.

So I threw my tray away, cleared my throat, stood up, fixed my shirt,
adjusted my hard, daydreaming cock in my pants, and headed down the hallway
to the men's room. It was quiet down there. Not much traffic. A few moms
and daughters going in and out of the ladies room, but at the end of the
hallway, the mens room looked fairly quiet.

And wonder of wonders, tucked in a corner near a janitor's cart were two
big orange plastic cones and a sign-on-a-stand saying "Restroom Closed for
Cleaning. Please Use Restroom by Sears." Looking around, I grabbed the
cones, grabbed the sign, moved them into place blocking the entrance to the
men's room as I made my way in. If he really was in there waiting for me,
Jess, I wanted to make sure we had a little privacy.

# # # # # # # # # #

I walked into the empty bathroom but I couldn't see him anywhere. Could I
have missed him coming back out? Nah. Not possible. He had to be in one of
the stalls.

I walked up to one of the five urinals, stood next to the short one out of
habit, unzipped, whipped out my cock and pissed. I cleared my throat to let
him know I was in there.

No reply.

I craned my neck as I continued to piss. Cleared my throat again.

I heard a tiny throat clear itself back in reply. Just the faintest
sound. But the sound of horny hope. It made my cock tingle. I finished up,
zipped and looked over at the six stalls behind me. I bent down a little
but didn't see feet anywhere. There were five regular stalls and one
handicapped one at the end.

I cleared my throat.

He cleared his. He was definitely in the last one. The big handicapped
stall. I was sure of it.

I walked to the stall and I tapped on the door with a knuckle.

"Is this stall occupied?" I asked casually.

No response.

I tapped again and pushed. The door was locked.

"Sorry," I said, and walked into the stall right next to him.

I sat down on the toilet, pants still on, needing to ponder this for a
moment.

Clearly he was still in there. Clearly he had made a sound so I knew
it. Yet no response to my question.

"You okay in there, kid?" I asked him quietly.  No answer.

I ran my foot under the partition between us, old school. Tapped it a
couple of times. No response.

"You want some company?"

Still no answer. A shuffling sound, like my statement might have spooked
him.

Well fuck, this was going nowhere.

Quietly, I stood up on the toilet and looked over the partition.

And holy fuck, Jess, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Knocked me over with a fucking freaky feather.

# # # # # # # # # #

He was bare-ass naked, Jess.

BARE ASS NAKED.

I don't mean his pants were pulled down around his ankles and his shirt was
off.

I mean he was naked as the day he was born. Hairless. Completely hard. His
four-inch skinny cock sticking up hard and proud and his God damn finger up
his ass!

Let me repeat that for you, Jess, in case you missed it.

He was sitting all scrunched up on a toilet in the handicapped stall in the
fricking mall men's room with not a stitch of clothing on, a full-blown
boner and a finger up his ass!!

And his clothes were folded, Jess!!

They weren't in a messy pile on the floor.

He'd folded everything neatly. Shirt, jeans, undies, socks and shoes on
top, and laid them neatly in a pile on the back of the toilet bowl. Like a
fucking shelf, Jess. Like he was stacking them on his dresser just in time
for spring housecleaning. Jesus Christ.

Why would a kid do that, Jess? Like, no big deal, come on into the
bathroom, strip bare naked, fold your clothes, stack them neatly, squat on
the toilet and, hey, as if that's not enough, how about poking an index
finger up your pooper while you're in there. What the fuck, man!

He didn't even see me at first. He was looking down where my foot used to
be, straining to see under the partition from his angle. And I was up on
top, looking down at the floor show.

I'm sure I must have whispered "holy fuck" or something equally ridiculous,
because truly, what do you say when you see a naked kid in a bathroom stall
with his finger up his ass? It's not like a Shakespeare quote comes to
mind. Because he immediately looked up, blushed, made eye-contact, deer in
the headlights innocence, caught dead to rights, and waited for me to say
something first.

It's one of those moments where words fail you. One of those moments you
swear you hear your watch ticking, but you don't wear a watch.

Finally I had to say something, so I went with the obvious.

"Um, kid? Your finger's up your ass."

He smiled. Blushed even redder.

"Yeah," he said. "I know it is," were his first words to me. And then, with
a sheepish smile, "I don't know why I like it so much."

# # # # # # # # # #

Jess, you of all people know I've loved boys. You of all people know I've
fucked boys. I'm no slouch at grooming boys or getting the ball rolling by
starting a conversation. But I'll be honest with you, Jess. When it comes
to first contact, most of those boys are wearing their pants, and most of
them don't have a finger straight up where the sun don't shine. This kid
was redefining introductory protocol on the spot.

"I'm Zee," I said.

"Zee?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. It's short for Zachary."

"Oh. Okay," he said casually, like he does this every day. Like he has guys
introduce themselves peeking over a bathroom stall while he scrunches on a
toilet seat with his poker up his rump. Like it's standard
order-of-business.

"I'm David," he said.

"Pleased to meet you, David," I said to him. "You do realize your finger's
still up your butt, right? I mean, I'd shake hands, but..."

He giggled.

Didn't move his finger, but he giggled.

That was a good sign.

"So do I call you David, or Dave, or Davey?" I asked him. "Nah, fuck it," I
said, not giving him a choice. "I'm going to call you Davey."

Kid pops a finger up his butt in my world, he's getting the baby
treatment. The full shebang. Davey it is.

He shrugged. Blushed. "Okay," he said.

"Can I come in there, Davey?" I asked as innocently as I could make it
sound. You know me, Jess. Wolf in sheep's clothing. "I won't try anything
funny," I lied. "It's just, well," I nodded at his finger, "you sort of
have me intrigued, to say the least."

"Okay," he said. And this time he did take his finger out of his butt. He
sniffed it slightly when he did. Oh, God, Jess. He sniffed his own
butt-finger. I just about came. I know for a fact I leaked. And then he
jumped off the toilet, bare naked as sure as I'm standing here, unlocked
the latch on his door and let me in.

# # # # # # # # # #

"We should be quiet," he whispered. "I can't get caught. My parents would
kill me." He looked genuinely concerned.

"I put the cleaning cones outside," I said. "We'll be okay. Nobody will
come in."

He looked at me. I looked at him.

Fuck he was pretty. Naked and beautiful and pretty, and other than being
caught in a compromising position, he didn't seem concerned at all that I
was eyeing him up and down and practically springing out of my pants in my
lust for him. I think that's what he wanted, Jess. Right from that first
crazy meeting. He wanted my lust for him. He didn't know what the fuck to
do with it yet, but he sure wanted it.

He looked down at my cock which was clearly hardening despite my best
efforts to keep things slow and gentlemanly.

"You're not going to Stranger-Danger me, are you?" he asked, nodding down
at my hard-on. And he wasn't trying to be cute or babyish. It was a serious
question.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Do you want me to Stranger-Danger
you, Davey? Is that why you're in here?"

He shrugged. Looked down at the floor.

"Maybe," he said quietly, clearly embarrassed. "Kinda."

I nodded. Smiled.

"Just don't put your thing in my butt yet," he said simply. "I'm still
kinda scared of that butt-humping part."

I threw up my hands and smiled.

"You call the shots, kid. Whatever you want."

"Okay," he nodded and went back to the toilet, scrunched up and squatted
again, sucked on his finger, and stuck it back up his ass.

Holy fuck, Jess. Like there was nothing weird about it at all. Right back
up on the throne. Right back up his little white ass.

# # # # # # # # # #

The rest of the conversation went something like this:

"How old are you, Davey?"

"I'm 12."

"What grade are you in?"

"Sixth."

"Do you do this a lot? Come into bathrooms and get naked and put your
finger in your butt?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. Like no big deal. Like, so what. "Sometimes."

"You're very pretty, you know that?" He blushed. Looked down. Shook his
head "no."

"No, I mean it," I assured him. "You're very pretty. And your body is
beautiful."

His little cocklet was getting harder again.

"You have pretty feet," I told him, glancing down. And he did, Jess, he
did. You know how I love a pair of feet. I came on yours enough times the
first few times I fucked you. I came so much they're probably still
sticky. You know how it feels to get your feet gummed up with jizz, and
licked back off again while a man slides his cock up your hole. Gotta love
those pretty boy feet, Jess. Still one of my favorite time-passers in the
universe. Don't get me started on how hot his feet looked, Jess, or I'll
never get this finished. I'll never get this sent.

He shuffled around nervously. Clearly wanting to say something, but
embarrassed to ask me.

"Something wrong, Davey?"

"Can you take it out," he blushed.

"Take what out?" I said innocently, enjoying the game.

"Your you-know."

"My you-know?"

"Your C-Word," he said, pointing at it. "Your you-know. Your thing."

"My cock?" I asked him innocently.

"Yeah," he said, and his eyes looked wide and hungry. "Your C-word."

"Ask me for it then," I shrugged casually. If he wanted it, he could say
it.

"Take your cock out," he whispered meekly. "I wanna see your cock."

# # # # # # # # # #

You've seen my cock lots of times, Jess. You know what it looks like. You
know how big it is. Not huge. 6.5 inches, cut and firm. Not thick, not
slender, but a good in-between cock. A good boy-filler. And you know what
it feels like when it goes up a 12-year-old ass, don't you, Jess? Because
you were 12 – no scratch that – 11, when I put it in your sweet pussy
for the first time, right, baby? Yeah. That was a good one. I always
wondered what that felt like to you that first time. I wonder why we never
talked about that, Jess. Let's talk about that soon.

But right now, little Davey was looking at my cock for the first time, and
he clearly liked what he saw. His little dicklet was rock hard now. He
pulled his finger out of his ass, sniffed it, sucked it again, and put it
back inside.

"Nnngh," he said, making a little grunting sound as he reinserted his
forefinger into himself. It had to have been tender. He'd had it up there
awhile.

"Have you seen a man's cock before?" I asked him curiously, stepping
forward to let him look at it more closely.

"Nuh-uh," he muttered, his eyes opening wider. "Just my dad's."

"Do you play with your dad's?" I asked him. "Or suck him, or do stuff with
him?"

He nodded his head "no" instantly.

"No, he likes girls," he said meekly.

"And you don't?" I asked him.

He shrugged.

"You like boys, Davey?"

"Maybe."

"You like men?"

He shurgged.

"So you come into the bathroom hoping a man will find you in here and show
you his cock?"

He shrugged.

"I try it," he said. "I come in here a lot and take off my clothes and
wait, but nobody's every looked over the top before. They pee and I hear
them. But nobody ever looks. You're my first."

I smiled. I squeezed my hard shaft. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and he
looked fascinated by it. I wiped it off the tip. Put it to my mouth and
licked it off, which really made my eyes but out. Teasing him a litle more,
I put my cock back in my pants an re-zipped.

"Every boy needs a first," I told him. "Glad I could be here."

# # # # # # # # # #

At a certain point, you're done with the niceties.

You can only look at a naked boy with a finger up his ass for so long
before something's gotta give, Jess. And I was ready to get this show on
the road.

I looked down at his pretty cocklet. His balls. His asshole, finger still
firmly lodged. I pointed at his finger.

"Let's see what you can do," I said to him.

He nodded. Afraid, but not afraid.

"Move it in and out for me," I nodded at his asshole. "Fuck yourself with
your finger."

He pulled it out, wet it again, pushed it back in and instantly complied.

I watched him finger fuck himself, Jess. And he closed his eyes and did it
GOOD.

"Go farther in," I instructed him. And he did, making little grunting
noises and squeezing his eyes a little tighter.

"So fucking pretty," I whispered, rubbing my cock through my pants. I could
see the leak in my crotch. I could feel the wide leak stain.

I stepped forward to him.

"Lift your foot up," I ordered.

He did as he was told.

I pressed it to my chest. Leaned my face down into it and nuzzled it. It
smelled clean. Good. He hadn't been walking around on the bathroom floor
too much. Normally I'd balk in that setting. Bathroom floors aren't
clean. But fuck, he was pretty, Jess. I couldn't help myself. Bathroom or
no bathroom, that pretty boy foot was going in my mouth.

"Mmm," I whispered, pressing his toes to my lips. Licking one
softly. Taking the big toe into my mouth and sucking it softly. A sweet
little mini-cock. A taste of things to come. He looked shocked. Look
surprised.

"Nobody ever sucked your foot before?"

"Nuh-uh," he said, wide-eyed. The sound came out like complete amazement.

"I like sucking on boys' feet, Davey. I like rubbing my cock on them and
cumming on them. Ever have anybody cum on your feet before, Davey?"

He looked completely shocked. He rubbed his own cock, but look
perplexed. Like "why would anybody do that?"

"Um, no" he peeped, wide-eyed and nervous, watching what I was doing to his
foot. I kissed his toes gently. I kissed his arch. Creamy, soft, perfect,
flawless skin.

"I'm going to do that sometime, okay, Davey? I'm going to rub my cock all
over your feet and I'm going to cum all over between your toes."

"Okay," he nodded.

"Some day I'm going to cum all over your pretty feet and you're going to
help me eat it off, okay? We're going to eat it off together, is that
okay?"

I swear he made a peeping sound. Like a wide-eyed little bird. "Peep!"

"Okay," he nodded. "That would be cool."

# # # # # # # # # #

But like I said, Jess, the niceties were over.

"I'm gonna Stranger-Danger you now, Davey," I told him simply.

"Okay," he nodded. "But not your thing in my butt, okay?"

"What thing, Davey?"

"Your cock," he blushed. "Don't put your cock in my butt yet. Please?"

I liked the sound of that "yet."

I liked the sound of that "please."

"Get off the toilet seat," I told him gruffly. "Off the toilet seat and
stand up by the wall."

He looked excited but a little bit scared.

"Now," I said firmly.

And I meant it.

And he obeyed.

# # # # # # # # # #

I put my arms his my shoulders and turned him around, probably too roughly
because he gasped a little when I did it. Not a frightened gasp, a short,
pleasured shaking sound. A fast, excited inhalation of
air. Surprised. Excited. He hadn't expected me to manhandle him that way
and was clearly excited when I did it.

I turned him around. Pushed him up against the bathroom wall and
immediately went down to my knees and spread his beautiful ass.

"Oh, fuck, Davey. Fuck, that's pretty."

I whispered quiet thanks to the gods when I opened his cheeks and saw his
hole for the first time. It was starfish pink and hairless as heaven. A
little red. A little angry from where his long, slender finger had been
self-poking it. Where he'd been finger-fucking himself. And the musky-sweet
boy-scent that wafted out and hit my grateful nostrils actually made my
cock leak. I spread it farther and rubbed it with my face. Rubbed it with
my nose, inhaling.

"Wait, wait," he started to say. "What are you doing? I said no cock in my
butt. What are you going to do?"

I didn't have time to give him a verbal answer, so he'd have to settle for
an oral one. Because by that time my tongue was already on him, right smack
dab in the center of that rosebud, licking and prodding and sucking the
boy-flavor out of him with every fucking muscle I had in my mouth.

"Nnngh, unngh, ahhhh," he moaned instantly.  "I nnnggh!" he babbled. The
preposterous improbability of this bizarre new act probably hadn't occurred
to him. I mean, boners are one thing, but what grown-up man licks a kid's
butthole? I could tell he'd never even imagined this possibility. This
dirty, crazy act. I was licking him where his poop came out. It was
dirty. It was sexy. It was shocking. He was perplexed, but delighted.

"Ngggn...whuh...huh...nnnnn," he drooled.

There are times, I think, when no boy can talk. There are times when speech
just leaves his realm of possibility. I don't know all of the times that
make that happen, Jess, but I'm fairly certain when a boy is standing up
against a bathroom stall, bare-ass naked with his cheeks spread apart,
being rimmed for the very first time in his life, licked and tongue-fucked
by a big-cocked Stranger-Danger man for the first time, I'm fairly sure
that's one of them.

In any event, he wasn't saying even one coherent word. Trying
maybe. Moaning, shaking and whimpering nonsense. Babbling even. But
coherent speech as I ate his sweet hole and ass-sucked the molecules of
flavor out of the essence of innocence? Nope. Not a fucking word, Jess. Not
a fucking word.

And Christ, how he tasted! How do I even put that into words? That first
split second when you eat a new boy. When you put his fresh asshole to the
pad of your tongue for the very first time – that very first swipe –
that very first lap – when his whole, sweet flavor bursts across your
tongue – sour and sweet – earthy and strong – bitter and ripe –
danger and candy – like tangy vinegar – like clay in the soil –
like a piece of ass candy – like a sweet Jolly Rancher, cherry and new,
melting down your tongue, filling your senses, making you crazy, making you
shake inside, making you want to lick him harder, making you want to taste
him more and more and more and more. That's the kind of taste he had,
Jess. The kind you could eat all day and cry because you still didn't get
enough.

And I ate him there, pushed up against the wall of that bathroom stall
until I just couldn't stand it anymore. Just couldn't stand to hear his
whimpering babble-words.

"My fuhhh – my fuhhh – oh-eeee! My fuhhhh--- "

I had no fucking clue what he was trying to say to me, but I spread his
cheeks farther and ate him even deeper and made God damn sure he'd never
finish his sentence.

I wasn't even touching my cock. Not a hint, not a finger. But just the
pressure building up inside my thick, straining missile as I ate this
little cock-teaser was just about more than I could bear. My pants were now
soaked with my own pre-cum. At least a palm-sized patch of stickiness had
formed in my undies by now and soaked through to my pants.

There's a limit to edging under the best of settings, and this was not one
of them, face-first and praying and prying into his open ripe ass, licking
that sweet copper shithole like a man condemned and eating his last meal. I
had to cum, he had to cum, we both knew it, and this was just the tremor
before the earthquake.

"Get on your knees," I growled into his ass.

"Uh, nnnghh," he moaned as I took my mouth from his tingle-numb
hole. Actually whimpered. Cried out like a puppy. Tried to back up into
me. Tried to push his ass back onto my tongue again.

"Nuh-uh," I told him. Turning him around again and standing up. Looking him
right in the eye as I undid my belt and pulled my pants fully down.

"Oh shit," he whispered as I unzipped my pants and my raging cock once
again came into view. Cock hard fuck stick, steel-stiff and needing
him. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he whispered.

"Get on your knees, Davey. Now."

He was down in a second.

He started at it, mesmerized.

I took my shaft in my hand and painted his face with my leaking
pre-cum. There was enough to paint him all glossy and sticky. Believe me,
there was enough. First his right cheek. And then his lips, which made him
moan. And then his eyelids. He closed his eyes instinctively as I painted a
thick, runny, snail trail of cock lube across his picture-perfect, pretty
closed eyelids.

He looked up after I did it, and so many expressions were flying across his
face. Arousal, excitement. Intense disbelief.

He was horny, and eager, and scared, and unsure. He was shell-shocked and
hungry, and desperate and tingling. There was no explanation and no
understanding of what I was doing to him or why he was allowing it, yet
simultaneously every understanding in the world. Synapses were firing he
hadn't even known he posessed.

He was all boy, all innocent, but here on his knees, he had grown-up
needs. Today he needed to make that leap. From boy to loved-boy. For this
thick, meaty cock that was leaking on his face. His eyes were wide, he
opened his mouth, and I knew he was hungry for it beyond his own
comprehension.

"You know what little gay boys eat?" I whispered as I watched him open his
mouth.

"Please," he whispered. "Please make me eat it."

"Say it," I ordered him. "Say it out loud."

"Stuff," he whispered, too quiet to hear.

"What?" I hollered. Pushing the head at his mumbling mouth.

"Stuff," he whined. "Juice! Stuff!"

"Cum!" I barked. "Call it cum!"

"Cum," he whimpered, trying to swallow my head. I pulled back.

"Louder," I told him, painting pree on his mouth like lipstick.

"Cum," he said louder.

"What do they eat?"

"Cum!' he shouted, and this time, it was HIS order. He was angry now. "I
get to eat your cum!"

And now his mouth was open wide. Open and begging for it.

This wouldn't be pretty. This wouldn't last long.

I placed the tip of my fat mushroom head up to his gaping hot boy mouth and
with one – two – just three grasping stroke-squeezes, shot a gusher
of semen into his waiting, wide target.

"OH FUUUUUCCCCK" I shouted, jizzing him good. "OH FUCCCCK, DAVEY, FUCK!!"

His head snapped back and his eyes bugged out instantly. I fired the first
volley right square on his tongue. He gobbled and gagged. He choked just a
little but came back for more. Wrapped his lips around my head and took it
like a big boy. My jets fired into him. Another, then another, shooting
into his mouth, under his nose like snot, dripping down. I hadn't cum in
four days, and now Davey was getting it all. Ropes and wads of thick hot
man cum, and he was gobbling it, sucking it, his mouth latching onto the
crown of my cock. Drinking from me. Sucking at it. Nibbling at me like a
cum-hound. Like a vampire.

"Nnngh, nnngh," he said, swallowing my semen down deep in his throat. It
was a high-pitched whimper. A gratful whimper. A needy little boy sound.

"Oh fuck, pretty boy," I whispered as I fed him. "Sweet baby, oh pretty
boy."

He was whining and whimpering and swallowing and shaking. His hand had
danced down again to finger his butthole. Tiny, slender digit trying to
butt-fuck himself again. Trying to fuck himself, impale himself on one tiny
finger as he swallowed my man cum.

"You want your ass fingered?" I growled at him.

He nodded, mouth still full of my cock tip. Nodded, looked up, made
whimpering sounds with tears in his eyes.

I stood him up roughly. I got on my knees. I opened my mouth and put his
hand on his own little cocklet, all four inches of it, red and angry and
straining. I aimed it at my mouth.

It was almost like I didn't even want to suck him, Jess. Like that would be
too much to do at first. Like that would have to wait until the next
time. Even the thought of "next time" gave me shivers. But right now, I
couldn't explain it. I just needed him to stroke off like a little boy does
– the ultimate boy act – let me see you jack off, baby -- just the
way you do it at home, when you're in your bed at night. When you're all
alone and nobody's listening. Jack off like a boy does, and give me
whatever cum you can muster right now, slap-happy fast, and right in my
mouth.

"Right in here, Davey," I growled at him hoarsely. "Jack your cock off
right in here. Feed me your little boy jizz, baby. Shoot it in here while I
finger your ass."

"Okay," he said and nodded his head seriously. "Okay, I will."

God, he was hot as fuck when he said that. So serious. So focused. Like he
didn't want to let me down.

I licked his tip to get him started. Sweet sticky boy-honey of his own
forming on the tip. Just a drop, but oh-so fucking sweet. Like honey from
heaven. No bleachy, bitter man cum. Just sweet, pure boy juice. His pre-cum
was like corn syrup. Like sugar. Like Kool-Aid.

I squeezed his ass. I licked his little mushroom crown again for good
measure.

"Cum in my mouth, baby. Jack off in my mouth."

He moaned again and he got to work. He fumbled, he struggled to find half a
rhythm, but he was too excited. To young and intense. I put my finger to
his mouth.

"Suck my finger. Make it wet."

He moaned and he ate it. Took it deep in his throat. I could feel him
trying to swallow it. He half-gagged. Slobbered it with spit.

Wet, I slid it down his cheeks and touched it to his asshole. He went wild
with desire. Shaking. Backing up INTO it, Jess. He couldn't WAIT to get my
finger inside him. He literally backed up INTO it. Fast. Hard.

It slid into his ass in one long jab. He moaned and he whimpered. No
first-sphincter, second-sphincter inch-by-inch pussy shit. His ass simply
opened up like a flower and he took my whole finger inside in one,
swift-slippery insertion. And the minute my finger went in, Jess – the
MINUTE I stuck it all the way in him and pushed against his little prostate
nut – he was shaking and squealing and jerking and cumming.

"Eee-eee-eeeee!" he yelled, and he twitched and he jerked, trying
desperately to aim his cockhead at my open mouth. I had to steady him with
my other hand and help him stand still.

As he rammed his quivering cocklet against my tongue, his drops sizzled
out. Sweet little dot-drops – just the tiniest taste of little boy
heaven – just the simplest drops of 12-year-old nectar. Clear-glazed
drops of virgin boy honey. Just two. So tiny. You wish there were more. A
cup. A bowlful. You'd lap it up like a thirsty dog. But there were only two
drops, bursting with flavor. Liquid fireworks. Boy-cum sweetness. I
swallowed them gratefully, like liquid gold.

"Oh, baby. Oh, Davey. That's it, buddy. SUCH a good taste. SUCH a good
boy."

"I came on your tongue," he gasped, he shook, he whispered.

He sounded surprised. He sounded amazed.

"Was that your first cum, baby?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, all shell-shocked. Disheveled.

"I think so, I mean. I never saw it squirt before. I saw it go in your
mouth. I saw it land on your tongue."

"You did good, Davey." I told him. And to remind him what was still in his
ass, I pushed my finger forward again.

"Sssss!" he hissed. "Too far – too far!"

I pulled back immediately. I didn't want to hurt him.

"Slow," he said. "Go slow. I'm all tickly."


I know that feeling. Every man does. That post-cum tickle that borders on
pain. It's especially hard for boys. Little orgasm factories, it actually
hurts in the immediate seconds after they cum. It tickles so much it hurts.

Slowly I removed my finger from his ass. It was slippery but clean. I
touched it to my lips and I looked him in the eye. I licked the length of
it slowly, seducing him with my nastiness. I sucked it into my
mouth. Sucked on it gratefully.

"Oh wow," he whispered. "Oh wow, oh wow. That was just in my butt."

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded, continuing to lick it.

"That's gross," he giggled. "That's dirty. That's sexy."

I brought it up between us. Between his lips and mine. I touched it to his
lips and I kissed it between us. His tongue darted out and licked it
too. And two of us stood there in the stall, cocks spent and kissing,
licking the taste of his ass off my finger, french-kissing and sharing it
between us, until there was nothing left but spit. Nothing left but the
taste of our own tongues.

I helped him dress. Took his neatly-folded clothes and handed each piece to
him. Undies. Jeans. T-shirt, socks and shoes. A shame to cover those feet
up with socks. "Garments of despair" I used to call them when you'd wear
them, Jess, before I'd take them off and suck your hot feet into my
mouth. Your pretty toes glistening with my spit. Your pretty arches sliding
up and down on my cock until I shot my steaming hot load all over them and
listened to you whine because I didn't put it in your ass.

This kid had beautiful feet, and I was sorry to watch him cover them up. I
could fuck that boy on the prettiness of his feet alone. I could bring
myself to orgasm just by sucking on his toes and cumming on the pretty pink
pads of his right foot alone. You know damn well I could, and it turns out
I did.

But that's another letter, Jess. A story for a different time. I'm too God
damn hot after writing this one, I have to stop and jack off. Crazy little
fucker gets me so fucking hot, Jess, I cum when I see him, I cum when I
touch him, I cum when I suck him, and I cum when I think about him. I can't
stop cumming when Davey's on my mind. I think of him all fucking day, Jess,
and I could just sit here all day and jack off repeatedly until my cock
wore off, till it went up in flames, or they just showed up with the
straightjacket and just hauled me a away.

"You have to go home now?" he asked hesitantly as he finished dressing and
I unlocked the stall.

"No," I shrugged. "I'm in no hurry."

"Can you sit with me for a while? You know? Out in the food court or
something?" He looked at me hopefully. "I can buy you lunch."

I laughed. Not mocking him, just a sweet, surprised laugh.

Here I'd just molested him. Sucked his cum drops and fingered his ass in a
bathroom stall, and this little angel was offering to buy ME lunch. Boys
are so clueless about boylove, aren't they, Jess? Mother of Jesus, he
wanted to buy ME lunch in the food court to offer his thanks. Little did he
understand that to keep him in my sight for ten minutes longer, I would
have bought him live lobster flown in from Maine. Angus steak from a cow I
killed myself. Buckets of caviar. Jeroboams of champagne. Boys are so
clueless about what boylove could buy them. If they had any clue at all,
they'd all be rich.

On our way out, I moved the cones and the "Closed for Cleaning" sign back
to the side. The men's room was open for business once again. I looked back
over my shoulder. The stall door was halfway open. I wanted it bronzed,
Jess. I wanted that handicapped stall declared a National Monument.

He walked ahead of me on his way to the food court. He quickly looked back
over his shoulder to make sure I was following him.

And of course, I was.

I'd only known him for 30 minutes, Jess, but I'd already swallowed his boy
jizz, fingered his ass, and I'd follow him anywhere. Jizz? Ass? Criteria
met.

I'd write more, Jess – what we talked about in the food court – what
we did after we left there – the movie I took him to next door – and
what we did in the movie theater, then in my van when I put his bike in the
back and drove him home. By that time he was late getting home and it turns
out he'd be in big, big trouble.

But in that van, even running late, he still made me stop along the
way. Made me pull the van into a quiet little side street where, even
though he was late and would definitely be grounded when he got home, he
STILL made me pull over so I could suck him again. Suck him properly this
time. So he could suck me. Take all of my cock in his mouth this
time. Right down deep in his throat until he learned what a gag reflex was,
and how to relax it. That next time in the van, he sucked me so deep his
eyes watered, he sucked me properly and he even put his finger up MY
ass. And I bet you didn't see that one coming, Jess. I know I sure didn't.

I'd tell you all about it, but it's late and I'm tired and I really need to
jack off and go to bed, so I'll save it for the next letter.

Write me back and tell me what you think. Do you want to hear more? Because
I think I need to tell it to you.

You're gonna love him when you meet him, Jess. And Christ, I hope you do
someday, because what a threesome that would make. You and me and Davey and
all of his kinky dirty little tricks? And believe me, he has more up his
sleeve. I haven't even scrathed the surface yet.

I haven't fucked him yet, but that's coming too. Believe me, that's
coming. Like a train bearing down on a tunnel. Head along the same track
long enough and you can bet your ass it's going in there at some point.

But for now, he's 12 and he's pretty and he reminds me of you when you were
a kid.

When you and I used to do the same kind of stuff you do to boys now. Back
when you were the boy and I was the man. Back when you were 11 and I was
29.was in my 20's.

Good times, Jess. And this boy is helping me relive them. My unexpected
Memphis boy, sweet and sexy. Like a brand new you. I'll tell you more next
time, Jess. Next time, he gets really dirty with me and I can't wait to
tell you. You're gonna love it, baby. I promise.

Sleep well.

I love you, Jess.

Always have. Always will.

Yours,
Zee

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Zachyboy
z.blake@mail.com

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