Date: Sun, 26 May 2002 00:02:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: 13greengrass <13greengrass@ziplip.com>
Subject: "No More Bananas"

All events and people in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to
actual people and events is purely coincidental. I write these stories for
the enjoyment of men who love boys.

Lastly, thank you to all the readers who have thoughtfully offered feedback
on the stories I have submitted to Nifty. I try to answer everyone and I
appreciate your support. It brings me joy to bring you joy.



NO MORE BANANAS

	Better than seducing a boy is allowing a boy to seduce you.  Philip
was twelve and a handsome sturdy boy with chestnut hair and dark brown eyes
fringed by the longest eyelashes I have ever seen on anyone.  Philip lived
in the neighborhood and I met him when his mother had a flat tire and no
jack.  Philip was in his driveway, chewing gum, staring at the car as if he
expected it to hoist itself up and change its own tire.  He was dressed in
a pair of baggy jeans slung low on his hips and an overly large hockey
jersey, cloaking any evidence of a slender attractive body beneath.  It was
his face that caught my attention, made me stop and stare at him.  His dark
complexion, his full lips, close-cropped hair.  And those eyes--those
eyelashes.  I was walking by and before I knew it, I was barely moving at
all, suddenly plunging into a slow motion stride, mouth agape.  Philip just
stood there looking back at me, but my attention on him made his mother
notice me, made it seem as if I were asking if I could help, or was about
to.  Her voice came to me as if from a great distance.
	"Can you help me?" she asked.
	I looked at her and noticed her for the first time.
	"I have a flat and I have no jack," she said, her hands out to her
sides helplessly.
	"I have a jack," I heard myself say, looking back at Philip.  He
was expressionless, staring at me with a concentration that I couldn't
read, studying me.  After a moment, he nodded and resumed chewing his gum,
as if he had finally come to a conclusion.
	I not only fetched my jack, but I also changed the tire for her
while she watched over my shoulder, telling and retelling me how
appreciative she was and how she was a single parent of three kids, her
daughters now teenagers with no time for her.  She offered to make some
coffee.  I declined politely and finished the tire.  Philip stood watching
the whole time, not so much the operation I was performing, but watching me
and my every expression and move, as if he could see the words falling from
my lips, the muscles move in my shoulders and back.  Whenever I looked at
him, he looked away, but only for a moment, then he would look back at me,
blush, and watch me some more.
	Over the next several months, Philip and I got to know each other
better.  I had volunteered to help her out while we stood there in the
driveway that first day. Looking at Philip, I would have volunteered
anything.
	"That's really nice of you," she said. "It's proving impossible to
get him to his soccer practice on time. The coach is starting to complain."
	Philip turned and walked away, glancing back at me over his
shoulder, heading into the garage. I wanted to follow him. I agreed to
anything his mother asked me.


	That's how I got the job of picking up Philip from his soccer
practice twice a week, and later to games once a week. The first time I
picked him up from school, he climbed into my car, his slender brown legs
smudged with mud and dirt, his face red and sweaty, and gave me a
suspicious look.  "My mom asked you to do this, right?"
	It was a loaded question. "Yeah," I said.
	He shrugged and looked out the window. "Thanks, he mumbled.
	I cleared my throat. "It was convenient, I thought," I said to the
back of his head. "Saved me the effort of looking for an excuse."
	He looked at me out of the corners of his eyes.
	"I would've had to ask if she hadn't offered." I pulled the car out
away from the curb. Philip was looking at me closely so I kept my eyes on
the road.
	"Nice car," he said.
	"Thanks."
	He smiled radiantly and I knew we'd be all right. With every ride
from soccer practice he would ramble on about his team or his coach.
	"He's too fat to see his own feet," he explained
matter-of-factly. He was pleasantly startled at my guffaw. Witty boy.
	With every ride to and from a soccer game, he would patter on about
hip hop and X-Box.  As I pulled up to drop him off for his second game, he
paused before getting out of the car, looking down at his shoes, shifting
nervously.
	"If you want," he said, bouncing his foot on the floor, "you could
stay for the game.  It would be easier than coming back later and.....you
could read a book or something...."
	His modesty and insecurity were so attractive-- nervous attempts at
connecting with me. "I'd love to watch you," I said, and I wasn't lying.  I
watched him play the whole game, and he kept stealing glances up at me in
the stands throughout the game, seeing if I was watching.  Of course I was
watching.  I was entranced by him, watching every move of his lithe body,
watching him wipe the dirt off the seat of his white shorts, watching him
interact with his teammates.
	I picked him up from practice once to find him talking to a girl,
beautiful with pom pons slung over her shoulder.  She flirted with him and
he smiled sheepishly, shyly, and I felt a surge of jealousy go through me.
I chided myself for my possessiveness.
	Philip saw me, smiled broadly, said good-bye to the girl and ran
toward the car.
	"Hey Farthead," I said as he got in. I had taken to calling him
nicknames, a different one every time I saw him. The funnier the better but
they all made him laugh. He laughed so easily, a melodic, husky cackle.
	"Hey," he chuckled.
	We pulled away and he waved back at her.
	"Girlfriend?" I asked nonchalantly.
	He gave me a smirk. "She's a girl," he said.  "And she's my
friend."
	Was he teasing me?  Did he know what I was thinking?
	"What about you?" he asked.  "Do you have a girlfriend?"
	"I have lots of friends," I retorted.  "And lots of them are
girls."
	"Really," he pushed.  "Do you?"
	I shook my head.  "No."
	"Why not?"
	I looked him over, studying his face. What was he getting at? "Why
do you think?"
	He shrugged.  "I don't know," he said.  "Maybe you're gay."
	The car was silent and I shrugged as if that could be, or maybe
not--as if that was one theory among many, as if I wasn't the one to
speculate.  I could feel his eyes on me.
	"Are you?" he asked.
	"That's a personal question," I said.  "I would only divulge such
information to someone who I cared about and trusted."  I let a few seconds
of silence go by.  "So, yes, as a matter of fact I am."
	He was looking right at me when I said it and he smiled
immediately.  It was hard to tell if he were pleased by the answer, amused,
or touched by being trusted and cared about.  I felt suddenly vulnerable
and uncertain.  "Does that bother you?" I asked.
	"No," he said.  "Whatever, man.  I'm not, but.....whatever...."
	I was only slightly disappointed by his answer, but I couldn't
expect him, if he were gay, to just say so at the age of twelve, or even to
know that he was at such a young age.  Still, his demeanor with me changed
after that and not in the way I might have expected.  He seemed to stand
closer to me and would melt into me when I snaked an arm around him.  Once,
on the way to a soccer game, he asked me if I thought he had nice legs,
looking down at them with a scrutinizing eye.
	I tempered my answer. "Absolutely."
	Even that sounded a bit overzealous, but I couldn't help it and I
didn't care.  He hid a half-smile with his hand and turned to look out the
window.
	Another time, while visiting his house for his mother's birthday,
we all piled onto the couch for a picture.  I sat at one end of the couch
with Philip pressed up against me, my arm around him, his two sisters on
the other side of him.  His mother flashed two photos and his sisters got
up from the couch.  Philip stayed there, pressed against me, not moving for
a long time.  Even when he wanted to change the channel on the TV, he asked
his sister to do it, not wanting to move for fear of losing his spot beside
me.  His sister rolled her eyes and told him that she wasn't his slave and
walked out of the room.  Reluctantly, Philip got up. He changed the
channel, and turned back toward me.  I sat there, my arm out as if he were
still sitting there.  I pretended to not notice that he was gone, holding
the ghost of him still in the nook of my arm.  He smiled secretly and
returned to the seat beside me.  I pulled him a little closer and we sat
there well into the night, watching TV and eating snacks.
	When I said goodnight, Philip gave me a hug at the door and I
leaned down and kissed him on the top of the head.  It was supposed to be
subtle, but it was noticed by his mother and Philip looked up at me with a
gleeful grin on his face, white teeth flashing.  With his arms around me,
holding me as tightly as he could to his beautiful body, he blurted: "Can I
spend the night at your house?"
	I didn't know what to say, but his mother jumped in, shaking her
head.  "On a school night?" she scoffed.  I started to agree with her.
	"The weekend, then?" Philip shot back. "Can I?" He looked up at his
mother hopefully, then at me. "I can come over Friday when you get home
from work!"
	I looked at her and she shrugged at me. "It's up to you," she said.
	I couldn't have said no if I had tried or wanted to.  I nodded with
a smile, excited and pleased but trying to hide it.  Philip leapt into the
air and twirled and shouted, then did a handspring, landing perfectly on
his feet, smiling over at me to be sure I had seen.  Of course I was
watching.  His mother chuckled.
	"I think he has a crush on you," she said out of the corner of her
mouth.
	I was utterly speechless.  Her eyes shone at me and she gave me a
warm nudge in the ribs with her elbow.
	"The feeling looks mutual."
	I didn't know what to say.  She had uncovered my most intimate
feelings and she was grinning from ear to ear.  Philip hadn't heard a word,
but he sensed we were talking about him and he did two more somersaults
until she sent him to get ready for bed.
	"Quick before I change my mind about the weekend and send you off
to Grandma Tate's!" she threatened, tongue in cheek.  Philip scampered off,
smiling at me all the way out of the room.  She laughed at him, but I stood
swallowing hard, trying not to look so guilty.  "I knew that he was in love
with someone," she said thoughtfully to me, softly in case he was hovering
nearby.  "At first I thought it was Tracy, that cheerleader from school who
keeps calling him, but now....after tonight, I know who it is."
	"Really?" I asked, nervously and hopefully.  "I....I...."
	"It's all right," she said.  "We'll pretend I don't know.  He would
be so embarrassed."
	I got out of there as fast as I could, feeling like Renee was
seeing through me, organs and parts of me that I kept hidden. Even so, as I
vaulted down the driveway toward my house, my heart sang. The boy of my
dreams had a crush on me. It was the first I suspected that Philip had
plans for me.


	So Philip came knocking on my door that next Friday night.  He was
dressed in a pair of black jeans I had never seen him in before and a large
gray sweater.  I guessed that he had just showered since his hair was wet.
He arrived three minutes after I had gotten home from work and I realized
that he had been waiting for me to return, watching my house, a small
duffel bag in his hand. He reeked of cologne and his sneakers were
sparkling clean.
	"Hey, Stinkbug," I said when I saw him.
	"Hey!" He had an open-faced smile, toothy and handsome, his
honey-tanned arms folded nervously in front of him. He was an anxious
suitor. I half expected him to produce a bouquet of flowers.
	Inside, we watched TV on the couch and Philip lazed on me
comfortably, more so than ever at his house, feeling freer and more
uninhibited.  He curled into the nook of my arm and told me about the
cartoon we were watching with the gentle timbre of his adolescent voice
rattling close to my ear.  I pulled him ever closer to me.  We wrestled and
pressed our bodies against each other, spontaneously intimate, never
acknowledging it, laughing, tickling, joking.  We ate pizza and chips and
drank soda and at around eight o'clock, found ourselves lounging again on
the couch, bodies pressed parallel to each other.  I was used to the smell
of him now and would take deep breaths of his hair and neck.  He would
touch the hair on my chest curiously, nonchalantly, as he was talking about
something else.
	We changed into our pajamas at his request.  He slipped into the
bathroom and came out in a pair of thin striped cotton pajama pants with a
matching button-down shirt.  No underwear, I noticed as the thin cotton
stretched across his butt, a hint of flesh shining through the fabric.
Although I usually sleep in only boxers, I put on a pair of long johns with
a tee shirt on top.
	Finally, he asked me: "Do you have any porno?"
	"Why?"
	"'Cause, man, I wanna see some porno," he said conspiratorially.
"I've never seen a porno movie before."
	"They're not as good as all that," I said.  "It's people having
sex, not making love, ya know.  Making love--now that's exciting."
	"So?" he shrugged.  "I still wanna see it.  Do you have some?"
	I nodded.  "But not the kind of stuff you wanna see, I'm afraid."
I was playing along with his story.  He was a straight boy, after all,
rubbing up against me in his thin pajamas. "It's all gay," I said.  "Except
for a little advertisement at the beginning of one of them."
	He tried to sound disappointed, tried to hide his devilish smirk.
"Let me see that then."  The pajamas and now the porno.  The boy was on the
make. I sat down because my head was swimming.
	I thought about it and weighed the issue in my head.  Many would
say I made the wrong decision by saying yes to him, but I figured he was at
the age when he would see porno sooner or later, and I hoped to provide him
with some appropriate information around it.  That was my story anyway.  I
went into my bedroom and came back out with a video called "Latin Lovers".
I tossed it to him and he looked at the cover carefully.
	"Put it in if you want," I said, sitting on the couch with my feet
up on the coffee table.  He surveyed the cover for a moment longer, then
stood up and put it in.  He came back to the couch and plopped down beside
me, his hip pressed against mine.
	The opening ads, about a minute long each, was, as promised, hetero
in nature--big-bosomed women with big hair moaning and squealing while
large shiny cocks plunged in and out of their vaginas.  Philip whispered,
"Oh, wow" several times in the two minutes and I could see his pajama pants
bulging.  Then the credits started rolling for "Latin Lovers" and I said:
"That's all for the hetero stuff."
	"What's this?" Philip asked, eyes fixed on the screen while two
Latino men, dressed in nothing but towels, sat making wooden verbal
exchanges in a sauna.  One man was tall and muscular, with swirls of dark
hair on his chest.  The other was small and slender and hairless, except
for a bush around his cock.  The larger man was rubbing his own cock
through his towel, looking at the other man as if he were a sirloin. The
smaller man moved over closer to the hairy one and started pulling on his
dick through the towel.  Philip watched, rapt, smiling nervously,
embarrassed to be watching it, unable to look away, conscious of my
presence, unable to stop enjoying what he was seeing.  He shook his head
and chuckled.
	"What a trip," he snorted as he watched the small man take the
other's cock into his mouth.  The camera gave a close up of the large cock,
slipping into the man's mouth, wet and glistening, dripping with saliva.
Philip was harder than ever and so was I.  My long johns were about to
explode.
	We watched the movie for about fifteen minutes more and had seen
the big man lifting the smaller man onto a bench and ease his cock into the
willing asshole.  Their moans and "oh yeahs" filled the room and I caught
Philip adjusting himself, lingering long enough to stroke it once or twice.
He looked at my hard on.
	"You've got a boner, dude," he said.
	"So do you."
	"Yeah," he said, giggling, shrugging.  "I don't know why."
	"Because you're excited."  My comment received no response, as if
he were unable to admit that yet but unable to deny it.  His eyes jumped
from the screen to my throbbing long johns.  I stretched my legs out in
front of me, accenting my hard cock even more and Philip watched it
breathlessly.  He poked it with a finger, then looked into my face.
	"You're hard as a rock, man!"  He said, lacking anything more to
say to move things along.  I smiled and pulled him against me, a subtle yet
enormously intimate thing to do given the condition we were in.  He leaned
into me and plopped his hand onto my belly, six inches north of my pulsing
organ.  The entire universe seemed to be contained in that one spot on my
belly, rising and falling. We watched the movie without seeing it. Philip
jerked his hand as if in a spasm or stretching his arm, and it landed
closer to my cock. It throbbed a hello and he chuckled to watch it move
beneath my long johns. It looked like a kitten was trying to climb out of
my pants. Philip pretended to be watching the video but his hand moved down
slowly, almost imperceptibly, came to rest "inadvertently" on my cock.  My
dick jumped at his touch.  Neither of us said a thing and his hand remained
still, as if he hadn't noticed, watching the screen as the big man fucked
the small man in earnest.  The young man was shouting "Deeper!  Harder!"
and the big man was obliging.
	I stroked his neck. It was a subtle gesture to encourage him. He
adjusted his hand a bit, cupping my rod with his small fingers, then
grasped it and squeezed it boldly. Not rebuffed, he became more daring,
exploring the dimensions through my long johns.  I moaned involuntarily and
he looked up into my face.  "That feel good?" he asked brightly.
	I nodded and moaned again.  He pulled on my cock for a little while
longer, then sat up in his seat.
	"Can I see it?" he asked, then he covered his mouth and laughed
into his hand. He shook his head like he was trying to take the question
back, but I caught him looking up into my face for a reaction.
	"If you wanna see it..." I said, and I trailed off. I waved my hand
as if I was dismissing the idea.
	"Well...", he began, but he didn't know where to go next. He looked
over at me and his eyes implored me.  "Um...I mean..."
	He was a charming, stammering little Romeo.  "I wanna see it."
	He was suddenly very serious and he began to try to pull my long
johns down over my hips.  The game was on and it was no longer a game.  I
let him pull my long johns and boxers down over my legs and off.  They fell
in a heap on the floor.  My cock stood up from my lap and screamed his
name.
	He looked at it with wide eyes at first, then reached out and took
it into his small hand.  "It's so big!"  he said, suddenly breathless.
	Flattering, I thought, but I knew that he hadn't seen too many
men's cocks before and so it was all relative.  "Not really," I said.
"Just big compared to a twelve year old."
	"Almost thirteen," he piped in.  "Don't rush it," I murmured. I
liked him twelve, although he was destined to become a delicious thirteen.
He ran his fingertip over the tip of my cock, then began stroking it up and
down, cradling my nuts in the other hand.  His breathing was uneven, as if
he had just been dropped into a pool of very cold water.  He stared at my
cock as he played with it, rubbing his hands over it, tugging.  I threw my
head back and moaned loudly. When I looked at him again, he was gazing
right at me, a grinning little boy with my root in his hand, every part of
me captive to his fluttering fingers.  I smiled back at him and pulled him
to me, on top of me, over me and against me.  He held fast to my handle.
We bumped noses, I kissed him on the forehead, on the cheek, then brushed
his lips with mine, just to test his willingness.  He smiled bashfully,
then pecked me on the lips. I was going to come all over him if he didn't
release my cock from his magical fingers. I pulled his hands away.  "Not so
fast," I gasped. I nudged his lips with mine and he put his arms around my
neck. He pressed his lips hard against my mouth. It was a movie kiss
without the finesse, amateurish yet thrilling in its passion.  I probed his
lips with my tongue until he opened up and greeted my tongue with his own.
	My hands ran over his body from his shoulders to his thighs.  I
rolled him onto his back and groped his cock through the thin cotton.  He
spread his legs willingly.  I stroked his inner thighs, then ran my hand up
the back of his pajama top, over the silky flesh of his back, down and
around to his smooth chest, tweaking a nipple, small and brown.  His lips
stayed glued to mine and he moaned boyishly into my mouth.  I reached up to
the top button of his pajama shirt and undid it slowly, starting a
seductive unwrapping of this lovely gift.  Philip grunted, impatient, and
suddenly jumped up, crawling up and straddling me, cock pressed into my
sternum. He furiously yanked the pajama top up over his head, ignoring the
buttons, tossing it away.  He looked down at me with one of his toothy
grins and I kissed and licked his nipples, his chest, ran my tongue down
his ribs, darting into his armpit.  My hands slowly pulled his pajama
bottoms down over his buns and I ran my hands over his beautiful ass, up
his back, down to his hips.  I pushed the pants down further and his cock
popped out.  He pressed it into the hair on my chest and I held him close,
letting my fingers stray between his cheeks, down further and between.
	"Stand up," I instructed him. He did so, rising before me,
shimmying his hips and allowing his pajama bottoms to slide to the floor.
He stepped out of them and I sat forward.  I ran my finger around his
balls, cupping them gently, then raked my fingers up and over his dick. He
took in a deep breath and held it. His little prick was throbbing in my
fingers. I kissed his lower belly, his flat navel, his pale hip. Then I
slid the little cock into my mouth and cupped his ass cheeks with my hands,
pulling his dick into my mouth.  "Oh..." he choked. I flicked his the
underside with my tongue.  He sighed heavily.
	"Oh my God!" he gasped.  I sucked him hungrily and pulled him down
until he was lying on the couch. He held onto the back of my head to keep
from slipping out of my mouth. No concern there. I was savoring the lovely
dick for the delicacy it was. I settled into the aromatic space between his
silky legs, settling his hips on the couch, lowering my face into his
crotch, laving and sucking him. I pushed his legs into the air, exposing
his anus to me.  He was passive and trusting, groaning as my tongue lapped
at his cock and balls, down over his perineum, then into the crack of his
ass, poking at the puckered hole.  As soon as my tongue touched him there,
his hips bucked slightly and he laughed.
	"Wow!" he laughed loudly, then suddenly became reverently silent,
hardly breathing at all as my tongue worked its way inside.  I tongued his
hole and stroked the inside of his thighs, reaching up to pinch his nipples
gently.  I let my tongue travel up over his balls and back to his hairless
little penis, which was throbbing visibly, begging for attention.  I closed
my mouth over it and sucked.
	"Oh, yeah!" he groaned.  I spit on one finger and rubbed over his
asshole.  It twitched and he squirmed his hips delightedly.  I slowly,
tenderly, inserted the finger.  To my surprise, it slid in easily and met
no resistance until it reached the second knuckle.  Philip hissed and
tightened around my finger, but as soon as I stopped, he relaxed and looked
down into my face.
	"Pretend I'm a girl," he said breathlessly.
	I was confused. "What?"
	"Pretend I'm a girl. Ya know..." he wiggled his ass slightly.
"...ya know..."
	"You mean fuck you?"
	He blushed. Lying on his back with my finger up his ass, he
blushed. He smiled shyly and grunted.
 	"You're no girl," I said to him.  "It's the boy in you that has me
so excited."
	He looked uncertain. I wiggled my finger.
	"I'll fuck you like a boy," I whispered.
	"Like a boy..." He seemed to run out of air to complete the
sentence. He smiled and I pushed more finger into him.  It slid in
remarkably easily and I began to think maybe this wasn't his first time.  I
sucked his cock while I finger fucked him and when the second finger slid
in equally easily, I looked up into his face, his cock bumping me in the
chin.
	"Have you ever done this before?" I asked.
	He shook his head no.  His face looked pained, annoyed at my
questions and their bad timing. I was unconvinced.
	"You've never been fucked before?"  I asked.
	"Not with a cock," was his answer.  I was confused again.
	"What?"
	"I use bananas sometimes," he smirked, then looked embarrassed.
	"Bananas?"  I asked. I wiggled my fingers and chuckled.  Philip
laughed and nodded, toothy smile, wrinkled nose, blushing again.  I was
suddenly wild with excitement.  I had first thought that I would have to
convince him to let me try to fuck him, then I had thought that I wasn't
the first.  Now I realized that I was the first, and that his asshole was
so hot that he had used bananas to try to appease it.  I could do better
than a banana.  The fact that he was obviously so anal-oriented sent my
head to spinning.
	I withdrew my fingers slowly.  "I wanna fuck you long and hard," I
said softly.  "But if I stick my cock into you right now, I'll cum two
seconds later."
	Philip sat up and pulled my hand back toward his asshole.  "So!" He
was suddenly anxious as if an opportunity was slipping away.
	"You ever try sucking on those bananas?" I asked smiling.
	Philip smiled shyly and nodded.
	I waved my cock at him. "Try this one."
	I laid back on the couch and Philip crawled between my legs,
grasping my cock with his hand and guiding it into his mouth.  His teeth
scraped my shaft and I cried out.
	"Watch the teeth!"  I urged gently.  "No teeth.  All lips and
tongue.  Lots of tongue."
	He took to it hungrily, his full lips wrapped around my dick,
sliding in and out of his sweet mouth, his long eyelashes fluttering.
	"Perfect, boy." I whispered.  "Perfect."
	He took more and more into his mouth until he choked, and he made
slurping noises and moaned from the enjoyment of his job.  My cock vibrated
in his mouth as he groaned and leaned over me, his lovely ass in the air.
It didn't take long, as I suspected, and my orgasm came racing upon me.  I
grabbed his head and fucked his mouth feverishly, accidentally choking him
in the process.  He kept my cock in his mouth through it all.
	"I'm coming!" I hissed, and I let go of his head in case he wanted
to avoid a mouthful.  My cock spurted into his mouth and I shouted out
loud.  He took it out of his mouth for the other spurts, watching it
attentively, sperm dripping from his lips and chin.  Looking into his face
intensified my orgasm and I pumped more and more sperm down my shaft and
onto his hand, holding it at the base.
	"Cool!" he gasped, smiling, wiping his chin with the back of his
hand.  "It tastes different than mine."
	I was spent, but my cock, still in his hand, was not going down.
He whipped my cock around like a bat and more sperm oozed from the tip.  He
licked it off and smacked his lips with a grin.
	Philip got up and got a towel for me to wipe up.  He walked naked,
his little cock jutting out before him, and I could already feel myself
getting excited again to see his lithe, smooth body moving across the room
to me.  He was perfectly made, exquisitely built, marvelously healthy.  His
straight sturdy legs and small round ass got me thrilled all over again and
my cock was standing up again, ready for action, by the time I had wiped
the mess up.
	I picked Philip up like a little boy and he wrapped his legs around
my waist, pressing his boner into me.  He looked at me questioningly yet
trustingly.  "What are we doing?" he asked.
	I cradled his ass in my hands and kissed him on the shoulder as I
walked toward the bedroom.  "Time for bed," I said.
	"Bed?"  he choked.  "What do you mean?  It's only....."  He was
looking for the clock. He thought the party was suddenly coming to an end.
	"Bed," I interrupted.  "We are going to bed, for the rest of the
evening."
	He smiled and understood and laid his head on my shoulder.


	Once in bed, we made love like real lovers.  Philip loved to kiss
and hump, but when I parted his thighs and wormed my finger into his hole,
he became ecstatic and threw his arms above his head and became passive to
my ministrations.  I licked and kissed his asshole, shoving my tongue deep
inside, and when he tried to touch his own cock, I pushed his hand away and
murmured, "Leave that alone.  It's mine."  He chuckled and moaned.  I spat
on my cock and zeroed in on its target, which looked so small and
vulnerable, so smooth and soft without a trace of hair, slightly pink from
the stimulation of my tongue and fingers, glistening wet in the light.  I
pushed against some resistance until the head of my cock popped in, rather
suddenly, and Philip cried out.
	"Sorry," I said, panting, and I let my cock sit there in the
doorway for a minute before pushing further in.  After about an inch,
Philip clenched his teeth and whined high in his voice, a combination of
pain and satisfaction.  I was enflamed.  I pulled back, then eased forward,
making new ground, getting my cock about halfway in before Philip hissed
sharply through his teeth, indicating his discomfort.  I stopped again and
leaned over him, kissing his neck and collarbones, his nipples, his chin
and forehead.  I covered his lips with mine and he wrapped his arms around
my neck.  Our lips parted and I looked into his face.
	"Better than bananas?" I asked.
	He looked pained but he smiled.  "Doesn't hurt as much," he said
bravely.
	"You okay?" I asked him, tenderly stroking his cheek.
	He nodded confidently.  I pushed in further and felt his ass open
up and pull me in.  I let out a long groan as I sank into him and I felt
his little body shivering and trembling in my arms.  He tossed his head
back and forth.  He grunted.
	I felt my balls rest on his ass and knew that I was all the way in.
The wet heat inside him, engulfing my cock, was dizzying to me.  I had
never felt such pleasure before in my life.  I groaned again into his neck,
withdrew nearly all the way, then plunged back in.  Philip grunted and
moaned.
	"I'll fuck you like a boy," I huffed into his ear. He wrapped his
legs around me and held onto my shoulders.
	"Sh-sh-shit..." He was ecstatic.
	I pumped in and out in earnest now, my whole cock sliding in to the
hilt and out to the head, then slamming back in.  Philip growled and jerked
beneath me as I drove him back into the sheets with every thrust.  With his
legs around my waist and his arms around my neck I rose on my hands and
knees so that he was hanging from me, a sexy little monkey, my cock
slipping in and out of him.  We were moving together like a machine, like a
single beast.  Our movement was so liquid, like a dance, swinging and
thrusting, his legs pulling me into him. I began to wonder again if he'd
done this before but I was beyond second-guessing him. He could tell me
anything he wanted and I would believe him.
	Keeping my cock embedded in his ass, I lowered him onto the bed and
lifted one leg over so that he was on his side.  I laid down on the bed
beside him, lifting his leg to afford me a smoother thrust, and began to
fuck him again.  In this position I could hold him against me, his back to
my chest, while I nibbled on his ear and neck.  Philip was almost too
excited to control, thrashing about on the bed.  I had to wrap my arm
around his waist to avoid slipping out of him.  He panted and whimpered as
my cock slammed in and out of his ass.  His little body jerked and flailed
with excitement under me and suddenly my cock popped out of him.
	Philip whirled around on me, his eyes nearly panicked, and he
reached for my cock as if he needed it, was addicted to it, pulling it
toward his asshole, groaning like a dissatisfied baby reaching for his
mothers tit.  I rolled onto my back, frustrating him, and he rose to his
knees, looking down at me darkly, frustrated.  I was smiling at him and I
pulled him on top of me.
	"Sit on it," I told him, holding my cock up to illustrate.  He was
suddenly refocused and content.  He straddled my hips and took hold of my
cock, bringing the tip to his anus, and sat down.  I sunk into him, he onto
me, closing his eyes as I penetrated him, deeper and deeper.  He looked
sated, and when I was all the way back in, he laid on my chest and looked
up into my face.
	"Go," he gasped desperately, and I began to pump my hips, sliding
my cock in and out of him, raising him off the bed with my bucking hips.
He fastened his lips to one of my nipples and clasped my shoulders, digging
his fingers in, holding on.  I felt my juices rising.  Holding onto his
hips, I increased the pace of the thrusts and Philip made sounds like he
was going to cry.  He sat up straight, hanging onto my knees on either side
of him, and threw his head back.
	"Oh God!"  He panted, and without touching his penis, he came, and
a small jewel of cum spurted out onto my chest.  His dick jerked and jumped
before him like it was trying to free itself from his body.  His shoulders
jerked, his chin lowered, and his eyelashes fluttered like little birds on
his eyes.  The whole thing was so moving, so titillating, so intense, and I
was so engrossed in it, that I felt my own orgasm overtake me, suddenly and
quickly, and I let out a yell as my cock spasmed inside him, shooting my
second load into him.  I held his hips down on my pelvis as I emptied
myself, and when my climax finally passed, the little boy slumped onto my
chest, gasping for breath, sweat coating our bodies.
	I rolled him onto his side, keeping my cock inside him, and looked
into his face.  He was smirking.  I kissed him on the lips gently and
stroked his back tenderly, stroking him from the nape of his neck to where
my cock remained embedded inside him.  He smiled up at me and kissed me
back.
	"No more bananas," I said.
	He laughed aloud and gave a childish squeal of a cheer.  "No more
bananas!"