Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2007 20:15:30 -0400
From: Jeff A <parrafan@ureach.com>
Subject: Mother Knows Best 2: Aunt Knows Better

Aunt Knows Better

a story by parrafan

Author's Note: This is a sequel to an earlier story "Mother Knows Best",
inspired by true events. It probably will make more sense if you read
"Mother" first, but hey, it's a free country (or it is where I am, anyway).

Disclaimer: This material is not suitable for minors, by whatever
definition applies where you are.  The author does not endorse or
participate in these activities, he only (wistfully) records them for your
delectation.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to the person (I'll call him Tony) who
inspired it. And to Willi (yes, there really IS a Willi !)

* * *

Aunt Knows Better

Jeremy and Martin's first hour as ersatz uncle and nephew passed quite
comfortably, in Martin's opinion. They sat together on Martin's couch
watching television, some nature program about killer bees, or killer
monkeys, or perhaps it was bees that killed monkeys. Jeremy kept up a
nonstop stream of questions, about the monkeys, about clouds, model
aeroplanes, fishing; no subject was too esoteric to escape his
curiosity. Martin wondered whether this, too, was some kind of test - was
Jeremy trying to determine Martin's boredom threshold, or maybe he had
eleven years' worth of inquiries stored up in his brain and now they were
simply flooding out, unleashed by Martin's earlier hospitality.

Martin did his best to answer all of the questions the boy posed, although
at times the answer simply was 'I don't know' or 'you got me there,
Jeremy'. Sixty minutes of sitting on the couch was beginning to deaden
Martin's butt, so he made an attempt to get up, only to find Jeremy leap on
him.

"Where are you going?" the boy demanded, desperation in his voice.

Martin smiled and cuddled the boy whose arms were tightly wound around his
neck. "Well, I was thinking of a cup of coffee and a piece of cake; it's
nearly time for afternoon tea. What can I get you, nephew?"

Martin felt Jeremy's slight body sag with relief in his arms. "I
thought...I thought...nevermind. Just a glass of water, please
Martin. Well, maybe a small piece of cake, too". Martin had been holding
the underwear -clad boy with a hand cupping his bottom, so he gently eased
the boy back onto the couch, adding a tiny peck on the forehead as he
released him.

Returning from the kitchen with a tray bearing coffee, water and two slices
of cake, Martin resumed his place on the couch. The bees were still
devastating the monkey colony. Jeremy wriggled over closer to Martin, their
thighs touching as they picked up their drinks from the tray.

"A toast", Martin declared, holding up his coffee mug for Jeremy to 'chink'
with his water glass. "To happy times with my newest and best
nephew". Jeremy giggled, then sipped his water, half of it spilling down
the side of his face. A few drops had reached his bare chest, so Martin
whipped out a handkerchief that looked clean, and gently mopped them
up. One cheeky droplet had found its way into Jeremy's navel, and when the
boy realised that Martin had overlooked it, he lifted his bottom off the
couch and arched his tummy, smiling slyly at Martin, "You missed one,
uncle"

Martin grinned back at the boy's audacity. "I didn't miss it, I was saving
it for supper", Martin corrected, dropping the handkerchief and diving face
first for the boy's tummy. He had seen plenty of parents give their kids
tummy farts, and had always wanted to do it himself, but never had the
opportunity - until now. Jeremy's shriek of surprise was followed by a
cascade of giggles as Martin blew rude noises on the boy's stomach. He
still could not quite believe his good fortune - only that morning, he had
resigned himself to a life of solitude, and now, a few hours later, he held
an almost naked eleven year old boy in his arms, laughing and squirming,
with his mother's approval.

Jeremy went limp, signalling that he had had enough fun for the time
being. "Martin, are you gay?"  he asked suddenly. "It's alright with me if
you are, really, I just, you know, wondered..."

Martin smiled benignly. He knew it was only a matter of time before the
subject arose. After all, he was single, he dressed neatly, kept a clean
house and cooked a mean cake. Who wouldn't wonder?  "I'm not trying to
dodge your question, Jeremy, and I don't blame you for asking, but it's not
as simple as 'yes' or 'no'. If you're asking have I ever had sex with a
man, the answer is, not since I became an adult. If you mean, do I want to
have sex with a man, the answer is, probably not. But if you're asking
whether I like women, I guess the answer is 'no' to that as well".

Jeremy shook his head a little, expressing his confusion. "Did
something...happen to you when you were...a boy?"

Martin sighed deeply. "Earlier today, you told me your life story. Now I'm
going to repay that confidence by telling you about an episode in my
childhood that I haven't spoken of to anyone else.  But I don't want you to
think I'm telling you this story to seduce you or anything. I just want to
demonstrate that of all the people you could have confided in, I'm probably
the one person on this street, maybe in this whole town, who can truly feel
what you have felt all your life".

Jeremy searched Martin's eyes for any sign that he was being made fun of,
found none, and crawled into his uncle's lap, as if to show that he trusted
him implicitly. Encouraged, Martin cuddled the boy and began his tale.

"I was about thirteen, I guess. That makes it around thirty years
ago. Childhood was different then, especially in a small town. Like you, I
was an 'only child', and fatherless. But I did have an Aunt. She was my
mother's older sister. We didn't have a lot of contact with Aunt Felicity -
she was a widow, and wealthy, having inherited a sizeable estate from her
late husband. I guess we thought she was above us, socially. So it came as
a complete surprise when she invited me to stay with her for the summer. My
mother could not afford to send me to summer camp, and her sister's
invitation came as more like an order than a request, albeit a welcome
one. I was put on the bus and arrived on my Aunt's ornate doorstep the
first day of summer vacation.

"Aunt Felicity lived in a big house on a large block. Even the street she
lived on looked rich, with a row of palm trees down the middle, and
carefully manicured sidewalks, with little hedges and gardens. Everybody in
the street had big houses, I guess it was the wealthy end of town. I spent
the first day exploring all the rooms of her house, sure that there must
have been a secret panel or a trapdoor or something somewhere. When Aunt
Felicity suggested I burn off some energy outside, I took off and roamed
the grounds for hours, shooting imaginary Redskins, blowing pirate ships
out of the water, and climbing trees that I thought were higher than any in
my own home town.

"Far from tiring me out, the day's activities in a strange environment had
energised me, so when Aunt Felicity said it was time for bed, I was still
wide awake. I remember jerking off three times that night, to try to get to
sleep. Every time I did it, I had to wriggle further over to the edge of
the bed, to avoid the wet spot. By morning, I was almost on the floor. I
was really very innocent - I had no idea what happened to bedsheets at
laundry time.

Jeremy giggled in Martin's lap on hearing the man confess to masturbation -
not just once, but three times in one night! "I do that to get to sleep,
too, sometimes, but I don't make any sperms yet", he whispered.

"Well, even at thirteen I did, and for some unknown reason I thought nobody
would ever notice. Boy, did I get a shock when Aunt Felicity called me in
to her parlour a few days later. I had been downstairs, running in the
hallway in a pair of socks, sliding on the marble floor, pretending I was
ice-skating. My Aunt was hosting her weekly game of Bridge, and there were
three other ladies there, all as old as my Aunt, dressed in expensive
clothes and wearing lots of jewellery.

" 'Here he is, my sister's boy', she introduced me. 'I have him for the
Summer - er, how long does Summer run for nowadays, Mrs van Halen?'

"The lady my Aunt spoke to looked even richer. 'Ten weeks, I believe, Mrs
Carson', she replied, then looked me up and down as though I was an
impertinent servant. My Aunt gave out a little shocked gasp on hearing that
news, but her dismay did not register with me at the time. 'Ten weeks!
Goodness gracious me! I have already had the housemaid change his bedsheets
three times in three days! The laundry bills alone will send me to the poor
house! Every morning I have found his...er, creamy issue...all over! I had
no idea boys were so...copious! And he is always so - so...rampant! Even in
daylight hours!'

"I had only a faint notion that she was talking about me. In those days it
was considered grossly impolite for children to listen to the conversations
of adults, so that adults were accustomed to talking about children, their
own and others', as though they were absent, even when they were well
within earshot. At that point, Mrs van Halen summoned me to her side.

" 'Stand here boy, and don't move', she commanded, and I obeyed
immediately. Not only were these people rich, and therefore powerful, but
they were adults, and I guess back then most well-raised children accorded
all adults the same inherent respect and obedience as they would their own
parents.

"Mrs van Halen pulled the waistband of my shorts and underpants outwards
and peered inside. My ever-present erection popped out, naturally, but I
did not recoil. It was like being examined by a doctor. I remember she made
a disapproving sound, like 'Hmph!', then spoke to my Aunt. 'Felicity, my
dear, you have, in your generosity, taken on more than you are capable
of. But never fear, your friends are here to help you'. The other two
ladies smiled and nodded at this. 'I will take over the management of your
nephew for the Summer. I know you would do the same for me. It's only
fitting, after all, as I have a son myself, and you are so, so lucky not to
have any of your own. But it has left you without the necessary practical
knowledge of dealing with...boys'. Mrs van Halen said this last word with a
disdainful reluctance, as though she was admitting to voting Democrat or
something equally repugnant.

"It never occurred to me that my Aunt might stick up for me and insist that
I stay with her, creamy issue and all. After all, Mrs van Halen had spoken,
and she was clearly unused to being contradicted. She was an adult, and she
had experience with children that my Aunt lacked. I was to learn later that
her own son spent fifty one and a half weeks a year at a Military Academy,
as Mrs van Halen had no interest in having him live anywhere near her at
all. She sent me on an errand to her house which was next door, but a good
ten minutes' walk away.

" 'Boy', she said to me, 'you are to go to my house, which adjoins this
one, and knock at the door.  My husband, Mr van Halen, should be home from
the yacht club at this time. Tell him I require one pair of the Arcadia
briefs from my second drawer. He will know what I mean. Bring the item back
here and don't dawdle'. I glanced at my Aunt, who nodded frantically in
acquiescence, and ran downstairs to put my shoes on. I half walked, half
ran to the next mansion, hoping that Mrs van Halen would not think I had
'dawdled' on the way. Mr van Halen was indeed at home, as he answered the
door and listened to my relayed instructions. He looked a good deal younger
than Mrs van Halen - but I just put their age disparity down to the fact
that the rich are different to other people. I waited in the foyer while he
retrieved the garment for me, then legged it back to Aunt Felicity's.

" 'These are perfect for his requirements, my dear', Mrs van Halen
declared, holding up a pair of sheer ladies' underwear with a thickly
padded gusset at the front. My Aunt nodded, smiling with relief. Turning to
me, Mrs van Halen said 'Now, strip, boy'. You have to remember, Jeremy,
that when I was a lad, if an adult told you to do something, you did it
without question, even something as personal as that. I started taking my
shirt off when she stopped me. 'No, no, not the shirt, boy, the trousers',
she ordered, as though it should have been obvious. I obediently pulled my
pants and underwear down and stepped out of them. My erection had softened
during my run next door, but being let out of its confinement it started to
rise up again. Mrs van Halen held the briefs out for me to step into, and
pulled them up my thighs, carefully avoiding any contact with my now hard
dick.  When they were in place, she pulled my shirt up to my armpits and
turned me in place to display me to the other three ladies. 'You see,
girls', she instructed, 'even the most rigid member is tamed by the
Arcadia'. And it was true - my tent was now merely a ridge, as all four of
the women could plainly see.

" 'Mr van Halen and I will occupy young-' at this point it occurred to Mrs
van Halen that she didn't know my name. To cover any embarrassment, my Aunt
piped up 'Martin', and Mrs van Halen glided on as if nothing had
happened. '-Martin at our home, and you may rest easy. Boy, go pack your
valise, and wait for me downstairs'

Jeremy squirmed a little in Martin's lap, but showed no signs of getting
bored with the story. He particularly enjoyed the part when Martin had to
pull his pants down in front of the old women. Boy, had he ever been there
and done that with his own mother! "So, you went to stay with Mrs van
Thingy?" he asked.

Martin nodded. "I had no say in the matter. Children in those days never
did. We were at the disposal of our parents or guardians, or police, or
teachers, or any nearby adult. The funny thing was, we never really noticed
- I guess as long as we got three squares and a bed, it didn't matter".

"What was it like at the rich lady's place?", Jeremy asked, urging Martin
to continue his narrative.

"Well, after I had packed my suitcase and waited in my Aunt's foyer for
twenty minutes, Mrs van Halen came downstairs. Even though she only lived
next door, we were picked up by her driver in a big black car, and driven
less than half a mile to her house. Mr van Halen greeted me at the door
with a handshake and a wink, saying I would have a great time while I was
there. He showed me to my room and helped me unpack. I went exploring
again, not caring that my mother now probably didn't know where I was. My
Aunt knew, and that was sufficient.

"The first indication I had that staying with Mr and Mrs van Halen was not
going to be anything like staying with my Aunt came at dinnertime. A little
bell rang to announce that dinner was prepared, and the three of us
assembled at a dining table that would have comfortably seated twenty
people.  Mrs van Halen said to her husband, 'Please examine Martin's
Arcadias, dear. He suffers from excessive discharge, according to his
Aunt'. She inclined her head at me, indicating that I should get up and go
to Mr van Halen. Of course, I did so, wondering what Mr van Halen would
do. It didn't take long for me to find out. He put his hands on my waist
and turned me so my back was to his wife, then put one hand down the front
of my shorts, inside the fancy briefs, feeling my cock. Naturally, it
sprang to attention right off. He groped it for a few seconds, then pulled
his hand out, reporting to his wife that everything was fine.

Jeremy was shocked, which is saying something, given his experiences with
his own mother. "You just let him feel your...er, dick? When it was hard?
In front of his own wife?"

Martin made a little gesture of indifference with his shoulders. "It was a
different time. None of the boys my age knew anything about molesters or
pedophiles back then. Sure, some boys were interfered with against their
will from time to time, but the details were always hushed up. As far as I
knew, Mr van Halen was only doing what any father would have done. I'd
never had a father - how would I know any different?"

"So what happened next", Jeremy asked, clearly keen to keep the story
going.

"Well, we ate dinner. Afterwards, I watched some television - a treat for
me because there were a lot more channels than we had at home - then Mrs
van Halen declared it was my bedtime. She told me to go on up, and that Mr
van Halen would be along later to check on me. About half an hour later Mr
van Halen came into my bedroom. He didn't knock, but he did call my name
from the doorway to check if I was awake. Of course I was - first night in
a strange house, and all. He pulled the sheets down to my knees. 'I'll just
check how you're going', I remember him saying. I was lying on my side, and
he sat on the bed behind me. His hand reached around my waist and dived
under the waistband of the Arcadias, grabbing my cock, which had been stiff
since I got into bed. I heard him say 'Oh, yes, good boy', as he stroked me
up and down. Before I could shoot off, he stopped. 'I'll come back in the
morning, to see how you went in the night. Be good', he whispered, then
left.  Somehow, I got to sleep, too afraid to jerk off, wondering what
would happen in the morning.

"What did happen?" Jeremy asked, showing Martin he was following the story.

"Well, it was only just light when he came in. No knock, like the night
before. I was on my back, half asleep. My morning wood was restrained by
the Arcadias, but Mr van Halen just peeled them down my thighs and it
popped right up. He didn't inspect the briefs at all, he just went straight
to work on my dick, rubbing it up and down and making noises like 'Mmm' and
'Aah'. Within a minute I shot off all over my pajama shirt. I was worried
that Mr van Halen would be disgusted with me, but he just said 'Good
boy. That's your reward for not soiling your briefs'. He ruffled my hair,
and said I could throw the pajama top in the laundry basket, and he would
see me at breakfast in three hours.

Jeremy looked up at me with a kind of amazement mixed with disbelief. "You
let him jack you off?  You just lay there?"

Martin thought for a moment. "Well, maybe it sounds a bit lame, but back
then, a child didn't dare question anything an adult did. That included
what Mr van Halen did to me. And it wasn't as though I hated it - I guess I
didn't think too much of anything but the feelings. And they were great!"

Jeremy snuggled down a bit further in Martin's embrace. He was clearly not
interested in moving off the man's lap anytime soon. "What happened next?"
he asked.

"Well, breakfast was a lot later than I was used to, about nine
o'clock. Back home, Mom would have said that half the day was gone by nine
o'clock. We sat in the same positions at the big table as the previous
night, and after we had eaten, Mrs van Halen suggested to me that I should
find something to amuse myself for the day, as both she and Mr van Halen
had business to attend to.

"Mrs van Halen called her driver and took off in the black limo, leaving me
with Mr van Halen. I went exploring, checking out every room in the house,
and it seemed everywhere I went, I bumped into him. I guess I thought his
'business' must have been to look after the house. He always had a smile
for me, or a pat on the head, sometimes a little rub on the butt. By
lunchtime, I was famished, and we ate at the big table again. Just the two
of us. He said he'd better check on me again, so I dutifully got up and
stood by his chair. I was still hard from all his touches and winks
throughout the morning.  He smiled at me, then pulled the waist of my
shorts out and groped me, just like he did that morning.  He made the same
remarks as before while he rubbed my penis up and down, things like 'ooh,
you're so horny, Jeremy', and 'you really need this, I can tell', all of
which I believed, of course. I got to thinking that I really was an
exceptionally oversexed teen, and that I somehow needed him to take care of
my erotic urges. I shot off all over his hand, but he just smiled and wiped
up with a napkin and told me I was a good boy, and to go play, and he would
see me at dinner.

"Mrs van Halen had returned by six o'clock, when we sat down for the
evening meal. Just like the night before, she ordered her husband to check
on me at the table. Again, I got up and went to stand beside him, I suppose
because I thought it was expected of me. Mrs van Halen looked away as Mr
van Halen pulled my shorts and the Arcadias down to my knees and felt all
around my crotch, caressing my balls while sliding the other hand up and
down my crack. He whispered all sorts of sexy stuff to me while he played
with my dick, which had stiffened up as soon as dinner started. He didn't
bring me off, but he said I should wait for him to come see me after I went
to bed, and not to wear any clothes.

Martin felt Jeremy twitch in his lap on hearing this. "He told you to go to
bed...naked?"

"Oh, yes, I remember it as clear as day. 'You can leave your Arcadias off
tonight, Martin, and I'll come up after you go to bed and give you your
reward. You've been a very good boy, and it's going to be a special night
for you', he told me".

"What did you think was going to happen?" asked Jeremy, stifling a yawn.

"Well, looking back, I don't exactly recall what I thought. I suppose I
thought he was going to jerk me off again", Martin replied.

"So, did you do it? Go to bed naked, I mean?"

"I know it sounds pretty sleazy now, but parents, or adults in general,
often used to give their kids some weird directions, and expect them to be
carried out. So I did. After about an hour of TV, I went to my bedroom,
undressed down to my skin, got under the bedclothes, and waited. Looking
back, I guess it was a kind of test - Mr van Halen was trying to find out
just how compliant I would be.

"I think the fact I was naked under the sheets when he came into my room,
he took as willingness on my part, because he came out with a lot of
encouragement and praise when he drew back the blankets and saw my bare
body, just lying there on the bed. 'Ooh, good boy', and 'you're hot
tonight, Jeremy' and 'my sexy little stallion', that kind of
thing. Needless to say, I was stiff again. He took off his robe - he was
naked underneath - and climbed in behind me. The next thing he did I'll
remember 'til the day I die: he put his dick between my thighs, and started
humping me. He also reached over and held my cock, and rubbed it in time
with his thrusts. All the time, he kept up his whispers of...seduction, I
guess. Stuff like 'ooh, Jeremy, you're so ready for this', and 'your cock
needs a good rub tonight, it feels so hot'

"I shot all over the sheets, and Mr van Halen shot too - I think he brought
me off at the same time as himself; I could feel his hard cock throbbing
between my thighs - then he left me alone to get to sleep.

Jeremy yawned. Martin's story had aroused him, but it was a long time in
the telling. So far, Martin had not made a single move to do anything
sexual with him, and, remembering Willi's account of his experience with
his uncle, Jeremy took Martin's hand, that had been resting on his stomach,
and repositioned it on his crotch, so that Martin would have no doubt that
he wanted to do 'stuff'. "When was the first time he...you know... did it
to you - properly?", he asked, resting his own smaller hand on his new
uncle's larger one (to keep it there).

Martin sighed. He was delighted that Jeremy had moved his hand downwards-
it inspired him to continue his narrative. "it was a few days after that
night he got on the bed with me. It was a turning point in my sex life,
looking back. Mr van Halen had been feeling me up and groping me pretty
much every chance he got, aided and abetted by Mrs van Halen, who kept
asking him to check my briefs. One dinnertime, she said I looked 'restive',
and needed checking. He obliged, when I left my seat and stood next to him,
giving my dick a sensuous rub as he did so. He whispered 'You're really
horny tonight, you need it bad - I'll come to your room after dinner - no
need to wear your pajamas'.  All through dinner I could think of nothing
else except what might happen. I thought it would be the same as previous
nights when he had come into my room. But it turned out to be very
different.

"Mr van Halen called my name from the door, as usual. He took his robe off
at the doorway - I could see his big dick sticking straight out, in the dim
light from the hallway. It looked huge to me, but I guess it was normal
sized. He took something from the pocket of his robe before he draped it
over a chair, then came to the side of the bed. He pulled my sheet and
blanket back, and started in with the sexy talk - about how horny I looked,
how much I needed sex, how he would make me happy - 'scream with pleasure'
were his exact words, I think - then he lay down behind me. He pulled one
of my legs up so my knee almost touched my chin, then unscrewed the tube he
must have taken from his robe pocket, and squeezed some stuff right onto my
asshole, which was exposed by having my leg up.

Jeremy gasped. Although he kind of knew what Martin was going to say, it
was still a shock to hear it. He was also starting to get a little
impatient with Martin's lack of action in his lap. His big hand just lay
there, on top of the fly of Jeremy's undies. The boy decided to make his
desires clear - hadn't Willi told him that sometimes uncles needed to be
led along? - by pulling out the waistband of his underwear and depositing
Martin's hand inside, right on top of his small but quite hard penis. Now,
that ought to get his motor running!

Martin did indeed notice Jeremy's childish attempt at seduction, and
enjoyed the feel of the boy's smooth hot tool under his palm, but he felt a
need to get the whole story out or else he might never have a chance as
good as this one to verbalise it. "The stuff from the tube made my hole
kind of numb - I think it was some kind of haemorrhoid ointment - so it
didn't hurt a lot when Mr van Halen put his knob at my hole and pressed. I
can still recall the feeling; it was like nothing I'd ever felt. He kept up
his whispers in my ear as he pushed in further. Pretty soon I could feel
his hairs on my butt; he was all the way in. I remember he grunted a lot,
like he was out of condition. He rubbed my dick at the same time as he
pumped his into me - 'drilling me', he called it. He had a whole bunch of
names for sex that he used. They all sounded rather tradesmanlike, which
made a funny kind of contrast to his obviously wealthy lifestyle. He would
say he 'drilled' me, or he 'nailed' me, or 'screwed' me, or 'hammered' me.

"So he did it more than once?" Jeremy piped up, pushing his dick into
Martin's palm at the same time.

"Well, it surprised me too - I guess I thought that once he finally 'did
it' to me, that his interest in me would fade. Boy, was I wrong! It only
made him randier! After that first night, when he only lasted about five
minutes before bringing me off and then shooting off in my bum, he wanted
it more and more! I guess he wasn't getting a lot of sex from Mrs van Halen
at that time".

"Have you got any pictures of yourself at that age?" Jeremy asked, taking
his hand off Martin's in case the man wanted to get up and find some
photos.

Martin carefully withdrew his hand from Jeremy's underwear as he
answered. "I've never shown anyone these - but I've got some pictures that
Mr van Halen took of me while I stayed at his house.  I'll go get them". As
soon as he left the room, Jeremy pulled his underwear all the way
off. "Surely he'll get the message now", he thought.

Martin returned to the living room with an old-style photo album, and
wearing only boxer shorts - he had decided to 'get comfortable', since
Jeremy was pretty clearly interested in fooling around.  When he saw his
new nephew sitting on the couch nude, he understood that he had guessed
correctly. "Wow, I've got a centrefold model for a nephew - what a body!",
he remarked, making Jeremy grin.

"Come and sit here so I can sit on your lap again, uncle, and show me your
pictures', Jeremy ordered, and like a good uncle, Martin complied. This
time there was no need for pretense - Martin's hand went straight for
Jeremy's boner as the boy nestled into position on his lap. "That feels
nice', the boy murmured, as Martin began a steady stroke of the boy's
three-incher.

"I forgot to mention-", Martin remarked, "-the fee for looking at these
pictures is...a kiss!". He grinned down at the boy whose tool he was
caressing, and was delighted when Jeremy stretched his face up to lock lips
with him.

"Keep the change", the boy answered cheekily, now very comfortable with the
man. "So, make with the happy snaps!". Martin opened the heavy book to a
spread of four photos of himself as a young teen, wearing white polo shirt
and shorts, with a yellow headband to keep his hair our of his eyes.

"You looked a bit like that Aussie tennis guy - I've seen a TV program
about him when he was a kid", Jeremy observed.

"Er, you mean Rafter?" Martin suggested.

"No, not him, the one that's still playing now. Little guy, blond
hair. Married the chick from the soapie?"

"Oh, er, Hewitt", Martin guessed.

"Yeah, that's him. Boy, you were pretty cute then", Jeremy complimented.

"Mr van Halen certainly thought so. This was taken on his private tennis
court". Martin blushed, remembering those times.

Jeremy picked up on it. He had plenty of practice reading his mother's
moods. "What is it? Did this picture bring back memories?"

Martin chuckled, and flushed an even deeper shade of pink.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want - I didn't mean to embarrass
you", the sensitive boy added.

"No, it's alright. It probably would be a good lesson for you to hear
it. Maybe give you an idea of what it was like at the van Halen's. Mr van
Halen and I played tennis almost every day, mostly after lunch. One day Mrs
van Halen announced at the breakfast table that she was going out for the
morning, and that 'you two boys', as she called Mr van Halen and I, should
play some tennis while she was gone. It seemed like a fair idea to me, so I
went to my room and changed - into the clothes you can see in the photo -
and we walked to the tennis court at the back of the house.

"Mr van Halen was usually an excellent player, much better than me, but
somehow, that day, his shots were a bit off. He'd have me beaten, but then
send his passing shot wide enough to be out.  His lobs were a tiny bit too
deep, his drop shots just hitting the net. Before I knew it, I was winning
four games to love. Then he came up to the net and suggested we make the
game more interesting.  'Whoever loses a service game, loses a piece of
clothing', he said, and I, in my innocence, agreed, thinking the game would
continue the same way it had begun.

"He served next, and lost the game. He took off his shirt. I was winning
five-love. Only one more game to take the set - we usually only played one
set. I served next, and somehow, gradually, Mr van Halen's luck turned. His
lobs fell in. He returned all my serves. Even when he hit the top of the
net, the ball dropped onto my side, not his. I lost the game. Following his
lead, I took off my shirt. He won the next game, too, and now my lead was
cut to five-two.

"Running around without a shirt seemed to have an effect on me, especially
as I could see Mr van Halen's bare chest across the net. Not that I thought
he looked sexy or anything - he just looked...muscular, I suppose, and it
felt a bit daring to be playing shirtless. Anyway, the harder I tried, the
more mistakes I made, and I lost that game, too. I looked at Mr van Halen -
he just raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to meet the conditions of our
wager. Reluctantly, I unzipped my shorts and took them off, throwing them
to the side of the court. All I had on now was my shoes and socks, and my
undies, which had tented out in the front, I think from the weirdness of
the situation. Mr van Halen won his service game, making the score
five-four.

"I played my heart out the next game, desperate not to lose my undies, but
I couldn't keep up with Mr van Halen's returns. He ran me all over the
court, sending winners down either side. I lost. I remember feeling rather
foolish, having to take off my underwear, out in the open, although I knew
the house was empty and we were invisible from the road. No way was I going
to take my shoes off, because then I'd have no traction at all. Being
exposed like that did not seem to bother my stiffie - it sprung out and
stayed hard. Mr van Halen leered at me the whole time he served his next
game. He won again. We never played 'advantage', only 'first to six', so he
had won the set, six-five, and the match.

"He came to the net to shake hands with me, but didn't let my hand go - he
just kind of led me to the side where there was a small shelter, just four
poles supporting a thatched roof, and a couple of seats. 'You look so sexy
in those shoes, Martin', he said to me. 'Hold on to that pole, gorgeous',
he urged, and I suppose I was too...I don't know, submissive, or maybe I
was as horny as he told me I was, but I grabbed that pole with both hands
while he entered me from behind, holding me by the hips as he pumped into
me, in broad daylight. He didn't need to grab my dick and jerk me off that
time - I shot off just from the sheer excitement of doing it outdoors. Then
he hugged me, and picked up my clothes. I waited for him to give them back
to me, but he said 'Our deal was, lose the game, lose the clothes. You lost
them. Let's go in'. We walked up to the house, him shirtless, me wearing
only shoes. The sensation made me hard again, a condition which was not
lost on Mr van Halen.  We entered the back door, which opened on to the
kitchen. He hugged me and whispered 'Here, or in your bedroom?'

"I was overwhelmed with horniness at what we had just done, and what we
were about to do again, so I wasn't really thinking straight. I said, 'In
my room', which I'm sure he took to be enthusiasm, or at least co-operation
on my part. We went right to my room and Mr van Halen didn't even wait to
let me take my shoes off. He put my pillows in the middle of the bed and
placed me face down over them and took me from behind. This time he lasted
a good twenty minutes, all the while whispering to me how good I was, how
much I must enjoy being screwed, how horny I was, that sort of thing.

Jeremy was affected by the story in his own way. He placed his hand on top
of Martin's, and moved it up and down, to suggest to the man that he should
be attending to Jeremy's needs as well as story-telling. Martin took the
hint, and resumed his slow wanking of the boy's cock. "So Mr van Halen did
it to you a lot?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

"After that first night, we went at it like rabbits. He was always catching
me off guard, so that after a few weeks I actually began to believe all the
stuff he told me, that I wanted him to do it to me all the time. He would
pass me in the hallway and give me a hug, then say 'Now, or tonight?'. Not
even considering that I could simply have said 'Neither', I would say
'Tonight', and he would come into my room and do me after dinner. Or he
would catch sight of me in the grounds and say 'Hey Martin, guess what?
I've thought of a new way to do it - let's try it out', and he would take
my hand and lead me to my room and lay me on my bed and give directions as
we went along, like 'Wrap your legs around my waist', or 'put your heels up
on my shoulders'.

Jeremy sighed. He felt sorry for Martin in a way, but he envied him all
those experiences. "Do you think Mrs van Halen knew what her husband was
doing with you?"

Martin smiled ruefully. "Not only do I think she knew, I think she planned
the whole thing. I'm pretty sure she kept her own son at Military Academy
to keep her husband's hands off him, and I was some kind of a consolation
prize for him".

Jeremy recalled something that his friend Willi told him about what he and
his uncle did together.  Martin was still stroking Jeremy's penis, so he
figured now was as good a time to ask as any. "Did you and Mr van Halen
ever...suck each other?"

"He never asked me to do it to him, nor did he ever do it to me. I'm not
sure why. We never kissed, either. At that age, I had absolutely no idea
what kinds of things people - grown ups - did with each other, so I don't
know whether sucking was frequently done or not. Maybe rich people thought
it was something only poor people did. All Mr van Halen ever did
was...well, fuck me".

Jeremy pondered this new information. "So, have you ever...um, done any
sucking? If you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't mind, nephew. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I never
have. But while I've got your lovely cock in my hand, I feel compelled to
ask, would you like to be my first? If you don't mind my asking?"

Jeremy smiled and nodded, easing himself off Martin's lap to lie back on
the couch to make it easier for the man to get at his loins, and jumped
nearly a foot in the air in fright when a loud knock sounded at the
door. "Hello? Mister Cooper?" came the unwelcome voice of Mrs Chambers,
Jeremy's Mom.

"Do you want to get your clothes on? I'll stall her" Martin whispered to
the boy as he rose from the couch to answer the door.

Jeremy shook his head in resignation. "No need. She already knows about us
- I mean, she knows I want to...do stuff with you. She sure knows what I
look like naked, anyway". He brightened a little.  "Maybe she'll be
impressed by your hairy chest!"

Martin smiled back. He had reached the door and turned the lock. "Mrs
Chambers, what a pleasant surprise. Come in", he urged.

"Thank you, Mr Cooper, I just called by to see how you were coping with my
son. I see he's made himself at home - and what a lovely home it is! Did
you decorate it yourself?"

Martin smiled at the insinuation. "Well, I just picked up a few things here
and there, you know how it is. Like they say, I don't know much about
interior design, but I know what I like. Can I get you a coffee?", he
asked, trying to make out that it was no big deal to have a naked
eleven-year-old on his couch.

"Only if you're having one", she replied sweetly. To her nude son, she said
"Move up, Jeremy, you're taking all the room", and sat down on the sofa
next to him. Jeremy glanced pointedly at the two unoccupied single seats
that completed the setting, wondering why his mother didn't select one of
those to sit in, but he answered his own question by guessing that she
wouldn't have been able to make a fuss over him if she had.

"Martin was telling me about when he was a boy, Mom", Jeremy remarked, as
Martin returned to the room with mugs and spoons.

"How nice for you", Mrs Chambers observed. "And your clothes just...fell
off, did they?"

Jeremy scowled at her. "I took them off to try to get Martin to...you know,
do stuff with me, like we talked about, but he's...I don't know, a bit shy,
maybe. He had some experiences when he was about my age that would surprise
even you, Mom. He was telling me about them, to teach me a lesson, I guess,
so I don't rush into anything".

"Well, that's always good advice, I suppose", Mrs Chambers commented,
nodding towards Martin.  The man realised he had just been paid a reluctant
compliment, and smiled back at her.

"I must say, Mrs Chambers, you have done an excellent job of raising
Jeremy, all by yourself. He is certainly a credit to you", Martin smooged,
sipping his coffee.

Mrs Chambers tossed her head back a little, as if to shake off the man's
praise. "Oh, well, you know, Mr Cooper, one does one's best. Although I
never quite expected to find him in a man's home wearing - well, not much
more than a smile. But I'm being unfair. We've talked about this
previously, and I've already sanctioned his behaviour. It's just - well,
one minute they're little boys, dependent upon you for every little thing,
and the next, they're nearly teenagers, almost fully grown, trying their
utmost to cut you out of their lives like...like a cast-off teddy bear or
favourite blankie".

Jeremy rolled his eyes. Any minute now she's going to turn on the
waterworks, he thought. Maybe there should be violins playing in the
background. It was time to take decisive action! He got up from the sofa
his mother had invaded, and stepped over to where Martin was sitting in one
of the single seats. He turned towards his mother and slowly, deliberately,
sank onto Martin's lap, pulling the man's arm across his bare tummy and
smiling sweetly at his mother.

Mrs Chambers got the message straight away. "It seems Jeremy has already
made his choice. I really came over to tell him that he can stay the night
if he wants, but it appears that he intends to anyway. Thank you for the
coffee, Mr Cooper, and do remember what I said earlier. Jeremy, I will see
you when I see you, some time tomorrow. Try not to wear out your welcome on
the first day".  She got up and headed towards the door. "No need to see me
out', she said, but Martin and Jeremy were already kissing, oblivious to
anything she might have said. "Well, I'm off then" she added, turning the
doorknob, but her words were wasted on the two males, who were writhing on
the chair, groping each others' crotches, panting and smooching.

"Men!" she huffed quietly, and let herself out.

end

parrafan@ureach.com