Date: Thu, 1 Jan 2015 18:23:00 +0100
From: Zachary Blake <z.blake@mail.com>
Subject: Memphis Boy - Chapter 4

MEMPHIS BOY
CHAPTER 4
By Zachyboy
M/b, oral, anal, feet

# # # # # # # # # #

A Long Overdue Dedication

"There's nothing in the world more beautiful than a barefoot boy. The form,
the arch, the freedom of his foot. I've told you all this before, Jess, and
I won't rehash it again here, but there's just something perfect and sexy
and incredibly erotic about a boy taking his shoes off. It's the first step
to getting naked, Jess. It's boyish, and sweet, and sexy, and it's the very
first thing a boy has to do in order to get naked for you."

This chapter of Memphis Boy is dedicated to my good friend Scuba Steve, who
is the real-life inspiration for Davey, and for this whole series in
general. Steve really did live in Memphis. As a boy, he really did get
naked and finger himself in the bathroom stall at the mall. And he really
did run naked through the woods, tossing his clothes, his excitement, and
his sweet, breathless boy-drops everywhere.

Steve's real-life, dirty-sweet childhood inspired this story at every
level. Memphis Boy, and this chapter in particular, are dedicated to him
with my deepest thanks, because this story couldn't have been written
without him. Thanks for sharing your incredibly daring childhood memories
with me Steve, and for taking this grateful novice down new and erotic
avenues previously unexplored. From head to toe, you will always be my
beautiful, sweet, little Davey.

Love, Zach.  Happy New Year

# # # # # # # # # #

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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Please give something back today.

And now, on with the show.

# # # # # # # # # #

CHAPTER 4. "A TREAT FOR HIS FEET"

# # # # # # # # # #

Dear Jess,

Again, you have my apologies. It's been so damn long between emails. It's
frustrating trying to catch up and tell you what's going on between the mad
dash of living it all. Life keeps me busy. Work keeps me busy. Davey keeps
me REALLY busy. Oh fuck, Jess. You have no earthly idea.

Where did we leave off last time? Me in the woods? Discovering Davey bare
naked, pushing that slim, 5-inch eggshell vibrator in and out of his ass
like it was the last candlestick on earth and he was in charge of keeping
the fire going?

How I put the tip of my dick in his ass – just my cockhead – and
cried after I came? After I filled him with that shaking,
shallow-but-explosive cum? How I looked at him in all his beauty, Jess,
lying on a blanket, naked in the woods, and surprising even myself,
involuntarily wept, because I understood right then and there I was falling
hopelessly in love with him and I had to have more. More than just this
pervy, erotic, messing-around, whatever-it-was.

How I needed to love him, Jess. To hold him. To take him in my arms and be
with him all night long. How I needed him so much, I went for broke and
asked him to come to me.

"Wanna stay over at my house sometime, Davey?"

He looked up. Eyes darted up in what? Pleasure? Fear? Surprise?

"You could tell your folks you're staying with a friend."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. Lost in the possibility. Wandering
trepidation.

"Would we have to – you know – put your cock all the way inside me?"

He was still worried about the butt sex. Even after I tipped him, Jess, he
still didn't want it all the way inside him. Like that was the bridge he
just couldn't cross.

"We can do whatever you want," I told him honestly. "We can do THIS," I
touched his asshole with my fingertip, just slightly, still sticky, still
dripping with my semen, and pushed just the tiniest fingertip inside to
reiterate my ability to reign it in. "Or we can put more in, or less in, or
whatever you need. Fuck, Davey. We can just sleep if you want to. That's
okay too."

He nodded slowly.

"I just want to give you whatever you need, okay, Davey?  You make the
rules. I just want to be good to you, and you tell me how much you
need. That's all it ever has to be."

"Okay," he nodded simply, like his whole youth depended on it. And in a
way, it did. You know that, Jess. You know how quickly boys turn into
grown-ups when a man's hard cock is involved. We don't mean to make them
that way with our cocks. It's the last thing we want. But we do.

"Okay," he smiled. "I'll sleep over."

Signed, sealed, delivered, pronounced. "I'll sleep over."

And that's all it took. The three words that changed my life.

# # # # # # # # # #

We talked a lot that first time he stayed overnight at my house,
Jess. Since anal sex was off the table – more on his reasons in a minute
– we wound up talking a lot – and kissing, and sucking, and fingering
and swallowing each other's semen – just about everything but the big
enchilada – but that was okay.

He showed up at five, still sweaty and hot, wearing his uniform from
football practice. Number 40. Green Bay Packers. Cute as a fucking button
and sweaty in all the right places.

He'd told his parents he was staying over at his friend Wagner's
house. They didn't bat an eye. Didn't even question it. We had all night.

The fact that I didn't fuck him that night – not fully, not up the ass
anyway – was on one hand, disappointing, and on one hand perfectly
fine. Because you know me, Jess. When life hands me lemons, let's crank out
the lemonade stand, baby. I've got plenty of places I can go. Not jumping
into his ass that first night truly let me introduce Davey into what you
already know is near and dear to my heart – the kind of major league,
cock-dripping, cum-drenching stuff I did with you, Jess, all those
beautiful barefoot years ago.

# # # # # # # # # #

Did you know, dear Jess, for the sake of curiosity, there's a whole
Wikipedia article on pre-cum? I'm not kidding. Look it up yourself. It's
listed under the word "pre-ejaculate." And if you look it up, there's a
beautiful close-up picture of a medium-sized pretty erection (it could be a
kid's if you use your imagination) leaking a long sweet bead of
crystal-clear pre-cum right out of the piss slit and drizzling down to just
a hair's breadth away from the pink-red crown of the pretty acorn
cocktip. It stops just a centimeter before it jumps the tip and drizzles
down to the shaft.

I mention it only because that's the kind of pre-cum I always leaked when I
saw your feet, Jess. Or anytime I saw any part of your beautiful naked
body. I looked at your soft, hairless skin, your tiny, tight tummy, your
bare pubis, your sweet hairless V, your soaring arches, your rounded soles,
and I just started to drip clear pre-cum in spite of myself. There was
nothing I could do to control it, you turned me on like a faucet.

I remember so many nights straddling your tiny body, using my pre-cum
dripping cock to actually paint you, Jess. I'd paint your pretty
cheeks. I'd certainly paint your lips, and I remember the way you smiled as
you licked it off like a salty treat. Do you even understand how hot it was
for me back then to move down to your hairless tummy and leave snail trails
of pre-cum all over your flawless skin? Working my way down through your
thighs, your kneecaps, your ankles, your perfect, perfect boy feet.

You were an ace at taking a full ejaculate, Jess. Your uncle had you well
trained in that regard. I knew damn well I could cum in your mouth and
you'd gobble it up like a champ. Nobody had to teach you how to
swallow. And it goes without saying, I deposited plenty of bareback loads
deep inside the First National Bank of Jess. But plenty of other times, I
was just perfectly content to paint you with my pre-cum. To coat that
pretty face. To wipe it over the round, sweet baby bumps of your pretty
copper titties. To watch it fill your little innie belly button.

And the jizz load itself? You loved it from the start, Jess. I remember you
saying something once – you couldn't have been more than 12 when you
said it – I remember you saying you wanted me to show you exactly how
much sperm I was shooting deep inside your butt or in your mouth by
shooting it all over your feet.

And fuck, Jess, that was so hot to me, you asking for a creamy load on your
feet like that -- you'd never directly asked me for it like that before, in
that way that I loved so much -- I must have shot twice my usual amount,
all over the soles of your feet, dribbling down through the cracks of your
toes, and then watching you bend your legs, fascinated, watching it drip
down your ankles and legs in a bizarre contorted self-examination,
whispering "wow" in hushed tones, amazed by the amount of it all.

You could FEEL how much I shot in your mouth, Jess. You could taste it,
feel it puffing your cheeks out, but you couldn't see it, because you were
a good boy, and down you swallowed it. Your uncle taught you very well, and
you swallowed every last drop. You never spilled an atom. But sometimes you
needed to see it too. Or sometimes I'd tell you NOT to swallow, because I
just wanted to love you, Jess, and have you come in close to me for spermy
kisses with your tiny tongue. I really liked those. And you did too. Not
only did I love you, Jess. I loved the way you had so much wild, free,
curious fun with my cum and my pre-cum. On your face, your chest, your
tummy and your toes. In your mouth, passing it back into mine.

It still drives me wild to close my eyes and imagine my thick semen running
from your toes to your soles to your ankles to your legs that first time,
and you bending up effortlessly like the top kid in yoga class, back
arched, head jutting up to see it, your little cock hard, your eyes wide
open, watching it dribble down your flawless skin, and quietly whispering,
"wow."

# # # # # # # # # #

So honestly Jess, that first time Davey stayed over at my house, for
starters, we just talked. We talked about what we'd done so far, and he
tried to help me understand him better. His needs and his fears.

There he was, on my couch, looking nervous as hell, sipping the Coke I
poured for him. I'd offered to spike it with a little rum like I always did
for you, Jess. You know. Just sort of loosen inhibitions and relax him a
little, but Great Guardian of His Ass that he was, he looked at me
frightened, he blushed and said no.

He looked up nervously, wanting to talk to me but not really knowing where
to start.

"I almost didn't come over here tonight," he admitted.

"Why not?" I asked, but I already knew.

"Because I know you want to you-know-what with me," he shrugged. "You
know. Stranger Danger me in my butt."

I smiled at him as reassuringly as I could muster, blue balls
notwithstanding.

"I already sort of did," I reminded him. "I'm not a stranger anymore when
it's already been inside you."

"Just the tip," he countered quickly. "Not the whole thing. The whole
cock's a lot longer."

Potato, potahto. This kid was driving me crazy with lust!

"I really can't argue with you there, Davey," I admitted frankly. "I'd like
to put the whole long thing in you a LOT. But if you say it's no, then no
is the answer."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm just kinda scared of that part. You know. Having
something way up in there."

"The thing is, Davey, you're already kind of good at it," I echoed. "You
know. Having something way up in there."

He smiled to himself. Looked down. Blushed a little. He knew I was right.

"I mean, you already put your fingers way up in there. And your brother's
vibrator. And what else? Anything else go way up in there?"

"Zucchini," he confessed. "Cucumbers. Candles. Pretty long ones."

"So why not a cock?" I asked, pleading the obvious, which was, believe me
Jess, already growing in my pants and looking for a parking place. "It'll
feel a whole lot nicer and more relaxing than a candle. Plus there's a
creamy white surprise at the end."

He giggled. He reached out and squeezed my dick. His little hand made me
shiver.

"I do kinda want a cock way up in there," he looked at it eagerly.

"Then why not try one?" I shrugged, rubbing mine through my pants. "I think
you'd be pretty good at it."

"Probably," he admitted with no false modesty. "It's just, well, you
know. The first one way up in there I kinda thought would be from a
sixth-grader. Not from a man."

Wouldn't be the first time I was foiled by an age span.

"Same principle," I smiled. "Just a little thicker."

"A lot thicker," he smiled back. "I've seen yours. I've had it all in my
mouth. It's really big."

"Well," I said, laying the matter to rest. "It's going way up inside you
sometime, Sport. It doesn't have to be tonight, but it's going way up in
there sometime. That I can promise you."

Sometimes a boy needs to be reminded he's still the boy.

Davey gulped. Sipped his Coke. Blushed beet red.

I looked down at his football pants and his skinny little spike was as hard
as a rock.

He was scared, maybe. But no question about it, Jess.

Davey wanted to get fucked.

# # # # # # # # # #

Jess, did I ever tell you about the first man who sucked me off when I was
a kid? His name was Artie, and he ran the local video arcade. Of course,
back in my day it was all still Pac Man and Space Invaders and Centipede
and Galaga, not the crazy shit they have today.

But for the right smile if the night was slow, Artie would flip a few
switches on the back of the machines and you could play all you wanted for
free – fuck the quarters – Artie would let you play those things for
free as long as you let him smile at you, and stand close, sometimes right
up behind you as you stood there playing, saying he was helping you line up
your shot, but really, he was just using it as an excuse to press his hard
cock into your tight-clad little jeans-ass. Artie liked him some boys,
Jess, and all the boys knew it.

The first time Artie sucked me, we were in the back room, and he'd flipped
the closed sign on the door twenty minutes early because we both knew damn
well he was going to suck my cock that night. Nobody else was in there and
you could see that hot blowjob coming down the tracks like a freight train.

In a way, I was just like Davey back then. Full of dirty thoughts, but
scared to be gay. Like Davey, I couldn't even say the word. And
ridiculously, as Artie was already dropping to his knees, unzipping my fly,
and dragging my hard cocklet out, all I could whisper was, "Please don't
tell my mom. Oh God, Oh God, whatever you do, don't tell my mom or my dad,"
which is laughable now – me begging HIM not to tell my parents -- but
back then I was dead serious. Back then it made perfect sense. I was the
gay one. I was the bad one.

"It's okay, baby," Artie whispered. "It'll all be fine. Nobody will ever
know.

I was 12-years-old, Jess, and I didn't have a clue what was going on in my
brain. Or in my hard little cock. I just knew I wasn't like the other boys
in my 6th grade class. They were always perving on the girls.  But while
they were doing that, I was busy perving on THEM. Or at the boys at Little
League. Fuck I loved their jocks. Their cups. Just the shape of what they
had in their pants. It perplexed me. Delighted me.

Like Davey, I was scared to let a man do this to me, Jess. Honestly
scared. I thought I only liked boys. But as Artie dropped to his knees and
sucked my hard 3.5 inches into his mouth, making me hiss in electric shock,
it reminded me in an instant that I looked at MEN too. Starting with the
college boys in our town. Holy fuck, wearing their sexy flip flops and
ass-tight shorts all over? Oh fuck yes, I stared at their packages. I was a
big fan of the local college team, Jess. And not for academic or athletic
reasons.

God they had some cocks. Holy Fuck, Jess, what was behind those zippers?
Why were they so big? Were they wearing cups like we had to in Little
League? Artie sucked me and my moaning mind danced with the men I'd
baby-cruised. Not only the college boys, but every man I saw. Construction
workers. Daddies at the mall. Their packages were so big, Jess. So
enticingly big, and I didn't even understand what I was looking at. Were
they dicks? Balls? Cups? Who wears a cup inside jeans? (Umm, Zee, sweetie -
that's not a cup).

Artie sucked me and I shucked off my pants. I wanted them down. I wanted
them off. I grabbed the back of his head and let him suck my throbbing
cocklet. I pushed up against him and pawed at his hair, and I stuck it in
and out of his mouth, and I knew I was going to cum. And I was
embarrassed. I wanted to warn him.

"Stop," I begged him in a hoarse whisper. "If you keep doing that, I'm
going to get tingly. I'm going to squirt my juice!"

He moaned. Sucked me even harder. His mouth was a blur and a vacuum.

I didn't understand why he'd want me to squirt it in his mouth. I was so
naοve.

I was shocked that he swallowed it that first time. I knew when he'd
unzipped me he'd lapped up my pre-honey like it was his last meal on
earth. And of course, I'd tasted by own juice on many occasions. But I
didn't know SOMEONE ELSE would want to have it inside their mouth. Inside
their tummy. Artie was the one who showed me that it was okay to eat that
stuff.

When I blasted off in his mouth, he grabbed my ass so hard and pulled me
into his mouth, simultaneously spreading my ass cheeks and gulping me like
raw hunger itself, that I finally got it, Jess. I finally understood
it. This was nothing to be embarrassed about, this white liquid squirting
out of the end of my hard little dick and into somebody's mouth. This was
not an error or a blushing overstep. This was the whole POINT of it. This
was the GOAL! This was the stuff that men liked to eat. It was okay to eat
it! To like it! To crave it! Talk about an epiphany, shooting off that
first time into Artie's Hoover-of-a-mouth.

And I remember, Jess, after I got my shivers inside Artie's mouth, he
kissed me afterward. Forceful, but soft. So much tongue. He shoved his
tongue inside my mouth, way deep. I could taste my own cum in his kisses, a
familiar flavor. And then he sucked me again. He put my whole 3.5 inch boy
boner in his mouth and actually touched his upper lip against my skin. I
was really surprised he got my balls inside his mouth too. His lower lip
actually touched my taint. That's what Davey called it, remember that,
Jess? "Tyler Tucker touched my taint?" Or whoever that fucking kid was?
Once you get your taint touched by your first man, Jess, there ain't no
coming back.

God it felt good when Artie touched that skin between my ass and my balls
with his hot lower lip. When he released my cock and went down lower and
lapped it with his tongue. When he turned me around, pushed me up against
the wall, and grunting, spread my ass apart and licked my hole like the
Fourth of July. I saw stars. I saw fireworks. I saw Christ and the Virgin
Mary on a water stain on the ceiling.

It felt so good when he did that, Jess. I'd never felt so good in my
life. He ate my ass. My dick was rock hard. I wanted him to fuck me. I
wanted him to fuck me so hard I begged him for it. But he said we should
wait. He wanted to, but he didn't want to hurt me. Didn't trust himself to
be gentle enough. So we waited that night. And we waited for a long time,
Jess. For two more years.

But he fingered me deep that night. He fingered and tongued me.

A finger fuck like I'd done for Davey. Fingers and tongues. No cock inside
me, but fingers and tongues. The sweet ass taste of fingers and
tongue. Story of my life, Jess. Always needing more and never quite enough.

Story of my life.

I should write it all down and post it online.

# # # # # # # # # #

So, that's where we were, Jess.

Davey and me.

He was new, and scared, and turned-on, and eager, and hesitant-as-hell, all
at once.

He was already well on his way to going down the path, Jess. It wasn't me
who was going to turn this kid gay. He'd already rolled those dice long
before I arrived on the scene. And then the first time I met him in that
bathroom stall and took that little Nerf Dart of his into my mouth, all
bets were off. This kid was going to be gayer than Gay Gayerson. And I'd
eventually get my cock "way up in him," Jess, I just had to let him get
used to the inevitability of it and come to it patiently, in his own time,
in his own way.

"I do kinda want a cock way up in there," he'd said to me shyly. And truth
was, he really did. He'd just assumed it would be with a fellow sixth
grader. Or hell, maybe even a fifth grader. I'm sure there were some pretty
fucking cute fifth grade boys at his school. But I bet he never would have
guessed in million years that his first cock would be a grown man's. Not
many of us see that one coming, do we Jess? That first man cock surprises
the life out of us, baby. And that's a fact.

But like Artie and me – like you and your uncle – like me fucking you
back when you were a boy – I hoped there would be something oddly
comforting for Davey when he finally did give his full cherry to me.  I
mean, after all, there are no awkward fumblings when your first time's with
a man. No rush, no surprises, no "ouch, too fast." A man knows exactly what
he needs to do. Especially if he was a loved boy himself once upon a
time. He knows he has a duty to make a boy more comfortable.

That's what I wanted his first time to be with me Jess. Not scary. Not
Stranger Danger. Just comfortable. Something he'd remember all his life
with passion and pride, not shame.

I didn't want to fuck him, Jess. I wanted to make love to him.

# # # # # # # # # #

He came to me in my bedroom, Jess, with nothing but my nightlight and a
moonlit window to illuminate his beauty. He did have that rum and coke
first, and I made it a tall one. A double shot to make him tingly. Relaxed
and buzzing. Not for any ulterior "fuck him faster" motive. Just to make
him less scared of this brand new night in general. This was a big thing; a
boy's first sleepover with a man.

I undressed him slowly, kissing every soft inch on my way down. Creamy
hairless skin that tasted salty and sweet on my tongue. He tasted like
boy. He tasted like football practice. He was warm and salty and wild on my
tongue. He moaned when I licked him. He sighed, excited. Nervous. He was
hard. He was shaking.

He helped undress me too. Slowly, he helped me take my clothes off. And I
thought how special this must be for him. The very first time he undressed
a man. Slowly. Respectfully. Only 12, but understanding the enormity of
what he was doing. The bridge he was about to cross. He sucked in his
breath when my hard cock sprang free and he realized again how unlike his
it was. How unlike a boy's. His little hand circled it and he sucked-in
air. Dabbed the sticky pre-cum off the tip. Pulled it like a strand. Stuck
it in his mouth from his fingertip and swallowed.

I took him in my arms, laid him down on the bed, wrapped myself up in his
beauty and softness and kissed him with hunger. Time fell off the clock. I
have no idea how long I kissed him, Jess. We were barely aware of our own
mutual moaning. His little hard spike ground against me. My harder spike
pushed into his naked tummy. My hands reached around to cup his ass. To
part his cheeks. To prod for his hole with an eager, firm finger.

"Don't," he whined. "You promised no butt stuff."

"Please," I moaned. "Please let me just try. I'll go so slow. I swear I
will."

"Don't," he said, and he started to cry. "I'm not clean back there. I got
scared today. I had the runs at school. I'm not clean. It's not ready."

He broke down sobbing, ashamed and embarrassed.

"Oh, Davey," I whispered, holding him to my chest and petting him and
soothing him. "I'm sorry. It's okay. Shhh. Don't worry. We don't have to do
that part. Don't be embarassed, baby. It's no big deal. Really, it's
not. We won't do that part at all."

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I really wanted to. I just got so scared today it
made me sick."

He was really crying, embarrassed.

"Shhhh," I held him. Poor kid. Poor goofy angel.

"I feel stupid. I feel like such a baby."

"You're not a baby," I assured him. "You're a beautiful, sexy boy. I just
want you to feel good tonight and not worry so much. Everything will happen
when it happens, okay? It's okay. There's no race for anything, baby."

He melted into my chest. I could feel his tension melt away, trusting me.

"There's a lot we can do," I whispered in his ear, and he
whimpered. "There's a lot we can do without touching your butt at all. Lots
of good stuff."

"Okay," he sniffled.

"Can I show you?" I whispered.

"Okay," he sniffled again.

And he looked up at me with complete trust and wonder, Jess. Trust and
tenderness and sweet, pure belief.

I sat up. I sat alongside him as he laid on his back in my bed, looking up
at me with his wide, wet eyes. I slowly ran my hands down his legs,
stopping when I got to his beautiful feet. They were soft and flawless,
Jess. Arches and art and sexy, sweet soles. Like the first time I did it to
you, Jess...I wanted this memory to be something that would stay with Davey
forever.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Why do you like my feet so much?" you asked me once when I was fucking
you, Jess. I was holding your legs up in the air. Holding your feet like
two handlebars. Fucking you on your back while I tenderly sucked your
perfect toes. Slobbered on your soles. Kissed your ankles. Licked your
arches from the center to the top. My cock was sliding in and out of your
perfect hole. I could smell our sex, and my mouth was loving your beautiful
feet.

Why did your feet turn me on so much, Jess? Why did I like them?

You might as well ask someone why is the sky blue? Why is there air?

I don't know why I loved them. Because Artie loved mine? Because it was
something I'd always done from the very first night he took me into his
bed, at 15, and fucked me? Did he pass it on, like a beautiful curse? Like
a blessing in the night?

I have no idea why I loved your feet so much, Jess. But I did, you know.

I loved them because they were YOU, Jess. They were the part of you that
represented freedom and boyishness and purity and perfection. Soft and
uncalloused, with a whole promising lifetime ahead. Growing. Long. Just
slighty too big, marking that change from boyhood to teen, from teen to
man, from innocent to fucked. Feet are a promise, Jess. The foundation of
what a boy will turn out to be. Chronologically and sexually. Feet are
where his path begins.

I need them, Jess. I need to make them part of me.

Who can understand anybody's fetish, really, right? Why do some guys like
scat stories and handcuffs? Glory holes and cock rings. It is what it is,
Jess. We all march to the tune of a different drummer.

Why do some people like ice cream instead of cake? Cinnamon instead of
peppermint? Blue instead of green?

You love what you love. That's all I can say.

And finding feet sexy? You either do or you don't. And it's okay if you
don't. That's perfectly fine. I don't have to try to talk anybody into
it. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing. I get that. I'm not out
recruiting. But for those of us who do find our God in the soles of a boy's
perfect feet, there are no shades of gray, Jess. We are always on. We see a
boy in flip-flops, and we're always ready. We see him in tennies and
imagine what's underneath. We imagine holding his feet in our
hands. Touching them. Massaging them. Running our lips and fingers against
their heat and their softeness. They're perfection and grace to us,
Jess. They're everything holy. We can't be without them.

I've understood that about myself for a long time now, Jess. They're
something I need to feel sexually complete. Fulfilled and satisfied. They
satiate me. Calm a craving so deep inside me I can't even name it, but it's
like a comfortable old friend, always there. Always yearning.

Some men will look at a boy's feet and say, "Great. Feet. He has two of
them. They're pretty. Now let's spread that ass apart and get to the part
of him I really want to visit." And that's fine, Jess. I have more than one
friend who will nod and smile with a patient pat on the head when I go off
on my random footnotes, some will even pry respectfully, a few will bravely
attempt to join in. Most will nod and smile with a passing respect for the
beauty of a boy and his feet. Why not. All parts of a boy are beautiful,
Jess, and his feet are just part of the picture. But I must admit, it's
rare when I meet someone with a full-on need for them that matches mine. A
hunger that's so very hard to explain, much less make internal sense
of. Those special friends have been few and far between.

For people like me, Jess, and you know this better than anyone, seeing a
boy in his barefoot glory is a moment that borders on euphoria. It's more
than an interest. A fetish. Ejaculation. It's where heaven is, Jess. It's
soul food. Religion.

To me, the bare naked foot of a beautiful boy is sex incarnate. Open and
innocent, breathtaking and perfect, there can be nothing better. No better
painting on the wall. No better art in the museum. The arch of a boy's
foot, Jess, bared to me like a trusting offering of love, takes me to a
place I can barely describe to those who only go there in passing. To them,
it's a curiosity. A funny. A fetish. A stop along the way. To me, it's
where I live. It's my music. It's home.

# # # # # # # # # #

Davey looked up at me, Jess. His eyes were wide and trusting.

"What are you going to do to me," he asked simply. "Will it tickle? Will I
like it."

"Both I think," I answered him simply. "First it might tickle. Then you
might like it. Then you might, really, REALLY like it."

"Okay," he smiled. "Let's go. Right now."

He smiled at me, my Memphis Boy.

Say what you want about that frustrating chastity belt on my cock and his
rectum, but in all other areas, man, was that kid game.

Davey took "show me" to a whole new level.

# # # # # # # # # #

You asked me once when you were little, Jess, "What do you like better for
foot sex, Zee? Giving it or giving it?"

And I laughed and said, "Foot sex?" because I never really thought of it in
the term that you used. But I suppose you were right, Jess. That's not fair
from the mark. Because that's really what it is, isn't it? I mean, you're
doing some of the same things you'd do to a cock or an ass. Touching,
feeling, caressing, licking, sucking. Rubbing them with your cock
eventually. When I'm smearing a boy's arch with my pre-cum, rubbing along
its softness, it really is sex, isn't it? Just raw, beautiful sex. Maybe
even ejaculating on it Then eating it. And maybe feeding some of my load to
him, right off his own foot, like I did to you.

I've actually thought about the question in detail, Jess. To be or not to
be. To give or receive. To have-done, or dole-out. Hmmm, I guess I'd
probably place the percentage of me wanting to give instead of get at about
70-30.

That's largely due to the pure, aesthetic beauty of boyfeet. I just find
them so exhilaratingly sexy, I'd be a bit greedy in this regard. With
someone like Davey, I'd be the one to instigate things, as I know
first-hand how good it feels. As I've experienced with other boys – and
certainly with you, Jess – getting my toes sucked can literally induce a
massive, leaking erection.

If we were to become regular lovers, Davey and I, then I'd hope the
remaining 30% would come into play.  I'm sure Davey would quickly discover
how good it feels to receive foot love, and maybe he'd want to give it back
in kind (although I wouldn't necessarily expect it).

I guess it's similar to a blowjob. I mean, do you really want to engulf
that fleshy sausage with your mouth? Hell yes, you do. You realize how good
it feels to have it done to you. It's only natural you'd want to please
your partner in the same fashion.

If you'd ask me that night, what did I want to do to Davey's feet as he lay
there naked and trusting in my bed? Watching me hold up his ankles and
wondering what came next?

You name it, Jess. What didn't I want to do?

I wanted to look, examine, admire, gaze.

I wanted to use my fingers to touch, feel, caress, tickle.

I wanted to make him happy.

I wanted to rub my nose down there, smelling soap or lotion or sock smell
or the athleticism of his sneakers. The beauty of a naked boy after
football practice.

A bit of sweat would be good, but any putridity would have to be gently
washed off. As it was, there was no need to worry. Davey smelled
perfect. The rubber-leather smell of tennies and cleats - mixed with
outdoors, mixed with boy. Just perfect.

Eventually I'd put my mouth and tongue to proper use. Just like I did to
you when you were a boy, Jess, there would be A LOT of licking and
sucking. Those are the factors which induce the truly erotic feelings on
the part of the boy. Those are the factors that induce stiffies. The oral
component of foot worship is what truly makes it so magical.

And as I'm sure you well remember from long nights of me playing with your
little piggies in every sense of the word, there is definitely plenty of
room for cock-on-foot play. Smearing your pre-cum along a soft, smooth arch
or instep can be exhilarating. Mashing his soles together and actually
fucking his feet is another wonderful possibility. Eventually ejaculating
upon them, particularly all over his toes, literally coating them with
jizz, is the ultimate prize.

And as for Davey learning and returning the favor like you did? Oh God,
Jess, that would be a dream come true.

I remember so well the way you were at 12, with your skinny, undersized
fingers playing with my feet. That was incredible. You knew how to give a
foot massage right away, Jess. But then once you got used to the rest of
it? Knowing it felt good and wanting to give back? That was heaven,
Jess. And I know I said thank you, but thank you again.

Being able to feel your undersized mouth and tongue as you licked my soles
and sucked my toes made me cum, hands-free. Seeing your soft, pretty face
down there, so focused, working so hard to please me was so satisfying,
Jess. So erotic. Realizing that you learned everything you knew about foot
play from me? Wow, Jess. It was gratifying beyond words. It was like
passing along a secret gift. Thank you, Artie. Thank you, Zee. Thank you,
Jess. Thank you, Davey. Like handing down the family Bible.

And fucking you while I loved your feet? Oh God, Jess. I could cum just
thinking about it.

It was always missionary style when I fucked you and loved your
feet. Holding your legs up. Holding your heels. Lining my dick up with the
small pink button of your anus and slowly sliding it in. Long-dicking you
all the way until I made you groan and throw back your head, eyes rolled
back and mouth nearly drooling, putting your feet in my mouth or wherever I
wanted them, angling your sweet, tight ass for whatever percentage of
penetration I needed.

And I needed a lot, Jess. A lot. I needed to stick it way up inside and cum
deep inside you. And you were a brave boy to take it all, Jess. You were a
brave boy to let me.

I hoped that Davey would soon do the same.

# # # # # # # # # #

"What are you doing?" he giggled, as my fingertips traced across his
arches, teasing him and tickling him.

"I'm gonna make you feel good down here," I said to him simply.

"Oh boy," he giggled. "You're really gonna do it aren't you? All that foot
stuff."

I looked at him and his eyes were wide. Crinkled up,
smiling. Interested. Anticipatory. But probably thinking the whole thing
was silly. I hoped to change his mind.

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded, quietly smiling back. "I'm definitely going to do all
that foot stuff. How do you know?"

"Cause I see you looking at them all the time. And you were rubbing them
when we were sitting on the couch. You were touching them. And when I went
to the bathroom? When you thought I wasn't looking? You smelled my shoes. I
saw you do it."

"Guilty," I shrugged. "You caught me."

Little did he know as I stood their inhaling the scent of fresh leather and
boy, I wanted to do more than smell them. I wanted to masturbate into
them. I wanted to cum in them, knowing he'd walk around in my jizz load
later. I wanted more than his participation, Jess. I wanted to mark my
territory.

"Okay," he giggled. "Do some foot stuff to me."

Cute little cocktease. I'd do some foot stuff to him.

As long as my cock wasn't six-inches up his ass, he was willing to
patronize and tantalize me with anything else I could come up with. I
smiled gently, knowing exactly what I needed, but hoping by the time I was
done, Davey would be a believer too. I hope to turn his patient, pretty
patronizing into pleasure.

I've always said, Jess, the transformation from a patient doubter into a
full-fledged beliver is a magical process. And maybe I couldn't take him
all the way there – not during one sleepover -- but if I took my time,
just like I did with you, he'd eventually learn to crave it like I did --
like you did -- that impossibly wild, tickle-fuck feeling of getting his
toes sucked and his soles tongue-bathed -- where you'd probably laugh if
your cock wasn't so fucking hard you were fighting back rapture. Fighting
back weeping for the pure, sheer sexual hotness of it.

I started out by simply rubbing him. A simple foot massage that a friend
would give a friend. He relaxed and closed his eyes and a simple smile
formed on his pretty mouth, his thin lips red and soft in the light of the
windowed moon. He giggled at first. Giggled because it tickled. They always
do...giggle at first. You did, Jess. And so did I.

But when I slowly began to lick his soles, then to run my tongue against
his tops and his heels, I heard him whisper quietly, "Oh." It changed
then. Changed quickly

He said it again, "Oh!" and his eyes opened wide. Surprise at first, then
honest awe. I knew what he was feeling, Jess. Exactly what we felt. It was
ticklish, true, but mostly just good, surprisingly sexualized feelings. I
looked at his naked little cock and it was hard as a rock. A little spike,
betraying his more-than-casual interest in what I was teaching him...where
I was taking him this very first time.

Bringing his left foot up to my mouth, holding it to my lips – and I
could see the spread of his ass when I lifted it up – his sweet hole
tempting me like untouchable candy – I gently devoured the next best
thing. I took his toes inside my mouth, Jess, all of them. I put my toes
inside his mouth and closed my lips around them.

"Oh, wow," he whispered. "Oh wow, oh wow."

And no one was giggling now, Jess. Not me, not Davey, not for all the tea
in China.

My cock was hard and leaking, watching him react. His back arched upwards
as I sucked his big toe. I fellated it gently and watched his eyes change
from cloudy and confused to awake, wide-open and hungry. This was a new
feeling to him, Jess, this new hotness associated with THIS, and it was
blowing his little mind.

With closed eyes, I nursed on his feet, tasting salt and sweat and the
hard, sweet day of a boy. As I sucked on them gently, moving from one to
another then back again, my big hands massaged his coltish calves and ran
up to his thighs, small but athletic, toned and all-boy, feeling hot and
pliant in my hands. I shivered as I re-experienced the exotic joy of
rubbing and fondling such firm, warm, moveable little boy muscles.

His feet were already wet with the saliva from my mouth but my cock was
aching and I wanted more. I cupped my hand and held it to his mouth.

"Spit," I told him roughly.

"What?" he answered, looking puzzled.

"Spit in my hand," I repeated. "Give me your spit."

Understanding, he did. His lip pursed and a tiny dot of saliva passed from
his mouth into my palm.

"More," I told him firmly. "As much as you have."

Our eyes met and he drew up more spit. I saw his concentration. His tongue
and cheeks working inside his mouth. He pushed a bigger wad into my
hand. It was warm and bubbly. White and foamy. He did it again. And he did
it once more.

"Watch," I demanded, and his head craned forward.

Still holding his foot with my left hand, I brought his spit to the shaft
of my cock and I rubbed it all over myself, lubricating my length with
Davey's saliva. He moaned when I did it.

"Oh God," he whispered. "My spit's on your cock. That's dirty."

"Make it more dirty," I told him, cupping my hand out for more.

He did. He obeyed me.

"That's good. Oh yeah. That's slippery. That's good. I'm gonna rub my cock
all over your pretty feet now, Davey. Slide it in and out of your pretty
fuckin feet."

He shivered. Eyes wide. His dick was actually pulsing it went so hard.

And that's exactly what I did, Jess. I smeared my pre-cum right across his
soles. It felt so good, rubbing my sensitive slit across his baby soft skin
and watching my sticky-clear sap transfer to his feet in sticky-long
strings...hot spider strands of pleasure.

I watched his eyes light up like hungry fire when I rubbed my cock along
his feet. It was so big right then. So hard and stiff as I ran it along the
length of his arch. I'm sure it felt like steel to him. I'm sure it felt
intimidating. Like I wanted it to.

"Feel this," I growled at him, running it along his tender arches. "This is
what's going up your ass next time. WAY up inside."

He shuddered. Sucked in air.

This was all so new to him, Jess. This little boy who was no stranger to
erotica. The same boy who sat naked in the mall men's room with his finger
up his ass. The same boy who sat in the movie theater and fed me Twizzlers
from the very same boyhole, then denied me ultimate entrance. What I was
doing now was unchartered territory. This was a wide open question
mark. His feet were still so new to him, being used and controlled in this
context, he had no idea anyone would want to touch, caress, massage, or
lick and suck him there. But it felt so fucking good.

He was mystified, Jess, he was baffled, apprehensive. But he was quick to
convert. This just felt too good not to. To good. Too hot. Too naughty. My
hot, wet cock sliding back and forth between his arches was making him feel
good in a way he'd never felt before, and he had the cock-hardening pride
of knowing he was making me feel even better. What I was doing to him was
making his cute little dickie stiff as a nail. It was reaching skyward for
his hairless pubis. He was turned on not only because it felt good to HIM,
but because he knew he was responsible for making me need him this way. He
knew it turned ME on, too.

Trusting me completely, he leaned back and sighed, closed his eyes again,
and pushed his heel up against me, surrendering to where I was taking
him. Not only surrendering, Jess, but responding. Pushing. Starting to push
back hard. Squeezing my cock with his feet. Applying pressure. Massaging me
back.

I had Davey's feet together now and I was full-out foot fucking him along
his soles, pushing the head of my penis through the crack between his feet
on either side.

"Good boy," I whispered to him, my tone softening, proud of his eager
participation. "You're doing just fine, baby. You're making me feel so
good, Davey. Such a big boy. You're doing such a good, good job."

He moaned when I praised him and he reached for his little stiffy.

"Not yet," I told him, pushing his hand away gently. "Me first. Then you."

He closed his eyes and whimpered at the delay while I continued to fuck his
sweet pretty feet.

"Spit in my hand," I told him again, and cupped my palm under his tiny wet
lips, so he could spit again. Relube me. Refill me.

I coated my cock and pressed his feet tighter around me. It was exquisite,
Jess. Euphoria bordering on pain. On fireworks. On overload.

"Watch it shoot," I ordered him quietly. "Watch me cum all over your pretty
feet, Davey,"

And gritting my teeth, I squeezed his feet together tightly, pushed my
cockhead through the crack in between them, and with a grunt and a moan, I
fired my hot ejaculate all over his feet. His pads. His arches. It dripped
through his toes.

"Nnnnggh," I grunted, cumming hard, cumming long. Drenching him. I shot my
cum all over his sexy, pretty feet. Covered them hard in a pink and white
rainbow.

He gasped. He shuddered. He was stupefied by the volume of cum shooting out
of me. All over him, feeling hot, feeling slimy. His eyes were wide. His
breathing was erratic. Almost grossed-out. But no. More like mesmerized.

"Oh, wow," he whispered. "So much. There's so much!"

Not giving him time to take further inventory, I lifted his dripping foot
to my mouth and began sucking my cum off his toes.

"Oh God," he whispered as my tongue licked between his big and his
second. "Oh God, please Zee. Make me cum! Please!"

There was no more ticklishness, Jess. Just pure boy lust as I ate my cum
from the spaces between his toes and he pushed his dick up into the empty
air, begging me to give him release.

"No, baby. Not yet."

He whimpered. Whined at me, needing it.

Taking his other foot in my hand, I scooped up more of that copious load,
and pushing it up to his lips, growled simply, "eat it," and I pushed it in
and wiped it on his tongue as he moaned and sucked my finger and swallowed
it. I fed it to him, Jess. I wiped it from his sole and I pushed it into
his mouth, a fingerful at a time until his foot was clean.

Sucking the remainder of my cum from the other one, I held it on my tongue
and leaned into his mouth, pushing it inside his hungry lips, feeding him
the last of it through a wet, warm cum kiss and feeling his tiny tongue
dancing eagerly against mine. He was panting, Jess. Panting and kissing
back, as hard and as eagerly as a boy has ever kissed me. We ate my cum
together, Jess. Leaning over him, kissing him, we ate my cum together.

"Suck toe," he growled in my ear, and this time, he was giving the
orders. "Suck my big toe and get it really wet, you fucker."

I looked at him wide-eyed, pleased and intrigued. Puzzled, but zinging.

"Get it wet, you fucker, and sit criss-cross, down there." He nodded toward
his legs.

I did what he asked. I took his foot in my mouth again and slathered his
toe with a copious wad of cum-flavored spit. He moaned again as I sucked it
and made it wet for him. I did what he wanted. I let him call the shots.

"Criss cross," he growled, and I could tell he liked this. He liked giving
the orders. "And jack my cock now, you fucker."

He was making me hard again, talking dirty this way.

He spread his legs and I sat between them. "Indian Style," we called it in
my day. "Criss-Cross Applesauce" is the dumb, P.C. modern version.

But as soon as I did, his intention nearly stunned me. Stretching out his
perfect foot, along my cock, then down under my balls, I felt him reaching
for my hole with his toe.

"Oh, God," I moaned. "Oh fuck. Oh, Davey."

He grinned at me. "You want a foot fuck, fucker? I'll give you a foot
fuck."

I reached up and took his little nail between my thumb and my forefinger
and watched him smile as his toe pressed up against my taint, searching for
my asshole. He was rubbing it against my crack. Not polite. Digging at
me. Straining.

"Oh fuck," I whispered. Whatever point he was trying to prove, far be it
from me to stop him, Jess. Fucking far be it.

I slathered some spit in my own hand. Rubbed it on his toe. Rubbed it on my
ass. Readjusted my position. Took his toe. Lined it up. Looked him in the
eyes.

"Push it," I told him. "Push that toe as hard as you can."

Like a dart, it slid in me. Past the first sphincter. I hissed and I
gasped.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck."

"You like that?" he asked roughly, and I could see the pleased smile in his
eye, having me this way.

"I like it a lot," I gasped. "A lot."

"Have some more."

And he pushed it in harder.

Jabbing it roughly as far as he could, his beautiful big toe, so slender,
so baby-fat long, pierced through my second sphincter and made me lose my
mind. My God. My Lord, Jess. This kid was fucking me with his toe! Pushing,
God, hard, past my second sphincter, Christ, making me gasp as he stuck it
in my ass. Way up in my ass, Jess. As far as a boy can go.

Regaining my ability to think, I stroked his little cock. It was hard and
angry, begging for release. 3.5 inches of sweet, straining boy meat, ready
to blow, ready to shoot as he fucked my ass with his toe.

"Get up," he whispered. "Get up on your knees."

"Oh shit," I whispered. "Oh fuck. Oh Davey."

I did what he asked. I got on my hands and knees. Put my head down on the
bed. Closed my eyes. I was somewhere near senseless and halfway to heaven.

I heard him shuffle. I felt him come up behind me, and then suddenly, Jess,
my mind exploded into sparkling flakes of color as I felt his face, then
his lips, then his tongue, start to lick and taste and dart around my
asshole. Hesitant at first, unsure, full of trepidation, then firmer, more
confident, more demanding even, as his little hands spread my cheeks apart
and his mouth zeroed in to tongue my ass in a wildfire of feeling.

He ate me, Jess. This kinky little boy on his very first sleepover had the
gall, the audacity, the sweet blessed boy balls to order me up on my hands
and my knees, spread my as apart and lick me. Tongue me. Like he'd been
doing it all his life. He licked my hole, squeezed my cheeks, prodded me
with his tongue. Licked my taint. Liked by balls. God, I was going
wild. I'd eaten his sweet ass more than once already and I'm sure he knew
how good that felt to him, and if this was his way of returning the favor,
God Jess, I didn't ever want it to end. He licked me everywhere. He reached
around and grabbed my cock. I was rock hard and dripping. I don't know at
what point I came again, Jess. I can't even remember it starting to
happen. But suddenly there I was, shooting all over the blakets as Davey
went wild and ate my fucking ass and jacked me to a second explosive cum. I
hadn't cum this much, this fast, a second time, in ages, Jess. In ages. And
there I was, coming all over my bedspread.

It defied all experience for me, Jess. No boy had ever done this to me
before, not even you. Can you even imagine? A warm, wet, undersized boy
tongue, rolling along – no – dancing along, darting around, SLAMMING
around – in and out, soft, then curled, wide laps, then poking, eating
the inside and outside of my tingling ass like there was no tomorrow? It
was incredible, Jess. Intense, erotic, incredible, mind-blowingly good. It
didn't even compute in my mind as possible as it was happening. A
12-year-old boy rimming my ass, Jess. Doing it better than any man I'd ever
been with, ever. And I fucking came, Jess. Came while he ate me and stroked
my spasming cock shaft.

I didn't know what was going to happen next. Would he line his little dick
up and fuck me? Would it even go in? Would he know where to put it and
could he keep it inside me long enough to cum? He must be going crazy by
now, delaying his cum so long! Was he going to stick his little cock up my
ass and pump me hard until he got his shivers?

I moaned anticipating just that, but apparently that wasn't in the cards.

"Suck me," he whimpered, and he was all little boy again. "Please,
pleeeeease...just make me cum...pleeeease."

There was so much pleading in that word, Jess. Like, "I've done everything
you wanted me to. Even more than you asked me. I even did THAT. Now please,
please, pleeeease just make me cum."

I owed him this one, Jess. Owed it to him big time.

"Please just make me cum," he whimpered again, raising his mouth from my
ass, which was now sticky with his spit and effort. I pulled him up and
kissed him hard, tasting my own ass on his lips. Sharing the scent of me,
Ass and tongue and boy and man. All those flavors blowing kisses in the
midst of us.

I pushed him back on the bed. My mouth engulfed his stick in a second. I
suctioned him hard, taking his whole dick and balls in my mouth. He
moaned. Nearly screamed in passion. Spread his legs apart. Grabbed my head
and pulled he down roughly. Spitting on my finger, I pushed it into his
ass. Pushed it deeply. I didn't even try to go slow.

He groaned. Pushed back against it. Wanting it deeper. Not caring how clean
he was down there anymore. It was the farthest thing from his mind.

Shaking, quivering, it didn't take him long. He'd been on the edge forever,
Jess. He had to shoot off now. He just had to.

Grinding his tight hot ass against the digging of my forefinger, rubbing
his tiny prostate nut up against my fingertip, he clenched my head between
his tiny hands, pulled my hair, groaned and gasped, and like trembling
electricity shot in my mouth and cried out my name.

"ZEEEEEEEE!" he yelled. "Ungggggghhh! It's shooting!"

His boy honey shot out onto my tongue. Two hot pulses of sugar-sweet boy
cum. His ass grasped and pulsed and constricted around my finger, so hard
it actually hurt. It actually nipped.

He ground his sweet, sweaty pubis up against my mouth. Shivered and
whimpered. Sprayed my tongue with another small droplet. Fuck, he tasted
good. The best taste in the world.

Exhausted and sweaty -- I licked the sweat from the tip of his hairless
mound -- the tip of his V -- we collapsed there. Didn't say a word. My
mouth was still buzzing with his cum. My ass was still tingling with the
ghost echo of his rimjob. Like an amputee. Like a phantom limb.

I scooped him into my arms, and kissed him. He shivered.

"I'm cold," he said. "I'm shaky...and I'm cold."

And he was, Jess. He was trembling again.

"Oh baby," I said. "I'm sorry. Come closer."

He melted into me and I wrapped him in blankets. I held him close and I
wrapped him in blankets. Swaddled him, Jess. Like an angel. Like a baby.

And then his crying began.

I felt his tears start falling on my neck before I even heard him.

"Davey," I whispered. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Because it's not supposed to feel like this," he whispered, his chest
heaving softly.

"Like what, baby? What's not supposed to feel like this? I don't
understand."

"Like love," he cried softly. "It's not supposed to feel like I love you so
much. I'm not like this. I'm not gay."

"Oh, baby."

I pulled him to me even closer and I kissed his salty tears. Like an ocean,
they rolled across my quieting kisses.

"I wasn't sick," he sobbed. "I didn't have the runs down there. I just
don't want it in me all the way. Only I do want it in me all the way."

"Davey, slow down. I don't understand."

"I can't be gay! Don't you get it? I can't! And if I let you put your thing
in me all the way, then I will be gay! Then I'll be gay for sure and I
can't stop it after that. Then I can never go back."

He was sobbing now, Jess. Really sobbing. So much pain.

I held him there and I let him cry.

"But I want it!" he wailed, and his cry broke my heart. "Stupid, stupid,
stupid! Because I want it all inside me! And I want to feel like I love
you. I just don't want to be stupid, stupid GAY!"

And with that he broke down. Just plaintively keening. A sorrowful wail
that pierced me to my very soul.

"Shhh," I whispered as I stroked his sweaty hair. "You don't have to be
anything, Davey. Not gay. Not in love. Not anything."

He shook and sniffed. He didn't believe me.

Poor kid. The enormity of all of this, Jess.

Even brave Davey.

Shocking, kinky Davey.

He wasn't invincible after all. And this was absolutely enormous.

"It's okay, Davey," I promised him, and I meant every word. "Please don't
cry. Please don't worry about any of this right now."

I held him tighter and I kissed his tears.

"Whatever this is, it can be whatever you want it to be. It doesn't have to
be gay and it doesn't have to be love. Just close your eyes and feel safe
here, and don't worry about all that other stuff for now."

I felt him relax a little. Lose tension. Soften shoulders. Convinced or
exhausted, I did not know. But he was quieting, Jess. And I held him
tightly and stroked his beautiful hair.

"It'll all feel better in the morning, okay, baby? Just put it out of your
mind for now and let me hold you, okay? Just let me hold you and let you
feel safe tonight. Don't worry. I'll make it okay. Just sleep now,
baby. Shhhh. Get some sleep."

"Okay," he whispered, still crying quietly. Those hiccup sobs of a cry
running out. Still weighing in his mind the reality of what he was
becoming.

There's always a point, Jess, when a loved boy realizes it's not just
messing around anymore. When he understands he's become a loved boy.

It's a sometimes painful awakening, Jess. A new understanding. Of what he
was becoming. Of what he essentially was.

He knew he was gay now. And even though it scared him, he knew it's what he
needed to be. To be held like this? In the arms of a man? This is what his
life would be like now, Jess. From this moment on.

Not because he picked it. Because it just was.

"It's okay," I whispered quietly. "It's nothing to be scared of,
Davey. You'll see. Some of my best friend are gay."

He giggled and sniffled. He punched me in the chest.

"I'm stupid," he sniffled. "You think I'm a baby."

"I think you're an angel. I think that I love you."

I felt him melt into me, protected in my arms, and I held him tight and
wrapped him in my arms. My arms, my love and my life.

Whatever this was, whatever we were doing here, I'd make it okay. Whatever
my love, my need, my desire was turning Davey into, I owed it to him – I
OWED it to him, Jess – to make things right for this boy. To make it all
okay.

And when you're a grown-up man, and the boy is 12, that's a hard order to
fill. You know that better than anyone, Jess. That's a hard order to fill.

So, that's where I'll leave it tonight, sweet man. Loving Davey the way I
loved you. Holding him tightly and tasting his tears in a quiet, gentle
night where his world was full of possibility, but also so full of
unknown. Hearing him breathe. Feeling his heartbeat. Promising love I
intended to keep.

My sweet little Memphis Boy. Falling in love in both directions now.
Reciprocal and beautiful. Tender and painful. It always is, Jess.
Blossoming and becoming, learning who you are, is always so pretty and
painful.

More soon, sweet man.

Our next sleepover came quickly.

And next time, Davey wasn't afraid of anything.

I filled him so full, he was mine then, completely.

In every way. In every heartbeat.

Way inside. Way in deep.

More soon, Jess.

I love you, sweet man.

The way I love Davey.

Always have. Always will.

Love,
Zee

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z.blake@mail.com
scubasteve.11@hushmail.com