Date: Mon, 08 Aug 2011 16:34:37 +0000
From: Jon Kent <jonkent@post.com>
Subject: OSCAR MY LOVE Part 9   Gay Male Youth Adult

DISCLAIMER

Everyone should accept the laws of his country, reserving the right to
strive democratically to change those he disagrees with. Therefore, if the
laws where you live say that you should NOT be reading stories like these,
you are legally obliged to leave now and read no further.

It does not matter if these stories are fiction, made-up, only written to
entertain, instruct, engage, and inform.

If for any reason, the law where you live says you are NOT allowed to read
them, you have to go. So off you go.

Live a healthy and happy life, and come back, if you want to, when your
laws say.

And remember: these are only stories. They are made-up. They did not
happen.

And the writer does not believe they should happen. The first
responsibility of adults is to protect children and their innocence.

It doesn't mean some adults won't enjoy reading stories like this, but it
doesn't mean they should go out and do things like this.

Who knows? Maybe reading stories like this will actually stop them going
out and doing these things.

Part 9

I'm not sure when Oscar discovered gay teen sites. I'm not sure when he set
up MSN and Skype. And I have no idea when he began 'performing' for
perverts around the world. I'm smiling at my use of the word 'pervert'
because I know that I would happily sit in front of a screen watching a
beautiful 10-year-old fuck himself with a home-made dildo as I tried to
keep it going before my cum splashed its way messily over the keyboard. A
beautiful, pre-pubescent boy pleasuring himself for your pleasure - would
you sit and watch that?

Like many modern computer-savvy kids, especially boys, Oscar knew more than
I did about the magical mysteries of cyber space. I wasn't even aware he
could set up a separate account on my computer of which I was completely
unaware. Later, when I mentioned this to him, he protested: "But, Uncle
Tom, everyone has their own account. And it's private.  I wouldn't look
into your area without your permission. That's invasion of privacy." At the
time, Oscar's middle finger was trying to locate my prostate - with my full
permission.

I discovered what was going on by accident. When it comes to boys, parents
find out most things by accident. It is not that boys try to keep secrets
from their parents; it's just that they feel much of their lives has
nothing to do with adults in general and their parents in particular. From
around the age of 11 onwards, the real lives of boys take place in their
heads, in their bedrooms, and in the company of their peers. Watch a group
of boys as they come out of school at 3.30. Watch them as they change into
their street gear. Watch them as they meet up with their friends in
pre-designated meeting places. Within half an hour, they are different
creatures entirely, and, if one did not know better, one would imagine they
were feral pack animals, set on carrying out as much mayhem as they
can. Not true. Their aim is not mischief, though recklessness, can lead
them into it; they are pack puppies, playing follow-my-leader, out to find
excitement or create it when they cannot find it ready-made.

I've no idea how I broke Oscar's password. I was merely fiddling around
trying to remember my own password which does begin with OSCAR... when an
entirely new planet swam into my ken, and I sat silent, staring at the
Pacific as Oscar's private world - OSCARSWORLD - opened up to me. Folders
neatly organised: 001PICS - 002VIDS - 003STORIES - 004CHATS.

CHAT 31

DAN69 Hi, Oscar. You're looking hot, Had a good day at school.  OSCAR Hi,
Dan. Yeh, not bad. U?  DAN69 Pretty good. Some of the customers are dumb
shits, but as long as they pay on time, I don't give a fuck.  OSCAR Sorry
'bout yesterday. Uncle came home a bit early. Just got off in time.  DAN69
No worries. I saved it for this session.  OSCAR You didn't cum then?  DAN69
Nope. No point cumming if I'm not looking at you. I like to see your sweet
little mouth when I'm cumming
		Even better is when I'm staring your cute little hole.
OSCAR Wanna see it again?  DAN69 No hurry. When's your uncle getting home?
OSCAR 'Bout 5'clock. What you want me to do first?  DAN69 That's my
boy. Stand up. Pull your school shirt out. Rub your fingers over the front
of your trousers.
		I want to see that bulge. I want to see your stiffy
outlined under those flannels. That's it. Take your time.  OSCAR Like that?
DAN69 Yeh, just like that. Get closer to the cam. I want to kiss you right
there. And tell me what you do to your Uncle
		again. That sounds really hot.

(I leave this out. Frankly I'm too embarrassed to relate Oscar's
 description of what we do in the privacy and intimacy of our love-making.)

DAN69 Shit, your uncle's a lucky bastard, Oscbaby. Now work your trousers
and underpants down your stomach. But don't
		let me see you dick, not yet. Yeh, that's it. Down a bit
more. Right there. Get closer to the cam again.
		My God, your skin is so beautiful. Stop giggling. I really
mean it.  OSCAR What would you like to do?  DAN69 I wanna lick and kiss
your tummy. Suck your belly button. Push down those undies with my
tongue. Lick the head of
		your sweet little dick. For fuck's sake, Oscar, push them
down to your knees.  OSCAR Look the way it jumps up!  DAN69 Work your
foreskin back. Yeh, like that. Shit, I want my lips round you. Get those
fucking things off.  OSCAR Give me a min. Got get my shoes off first. Hold
on. I'm gonna sit on the couch and get this school shit off.  DAN69 Fuck
it. Every time I see you I can't believe you're for real. You're so
f-u-c-k-i-n-g gorgeous.  OSCAR Dan... can you put your cam on, please? You
can keep your clothes on. I just wanna see you.  DAN69 Sorry, kid. No can
do. I'm on my work laptop. No cam.  OSCAR You're always on your work
laptop. How old are you really? I don't care. Just want to know.  DAN69
Turn round. Bend over. Lift your shirt. Pull your cheeks open. Finger that
sweet little hole of yours.
		And when I tell you, go get that dildo. The big one.

(If I don't go any further, it's pure embarrassment. And also because the
scripts in the end became repetitive. There's
 only so many things a boy can do with his body when limited to a camshow.)

I learned later that the term for Oscar is 'cam whore. Oscar loved
performing on cam. There were few things he wouldn't do if asked politely
or persistently enough. To his credit, he refused to take a shit on cam. I
was surprised by the number of men - I'm assuming they were all men -
desperate to a close-up of a ten-year-old boy's anus as shit made its exit.
Lots more wanted to see Oscar pee - he duly obliged - though only a
minority expressed a desire for the boy to piss directly in their gulping
mouths. I must admit reading the scripts opened up a whole new world of
sexual possibilities, but many of them I wouldn't touch with a barge pole;
these were mainly of the sado-masochistic variety, which had limited appeal
for me.  (Oh yeh? And you with little Jack up to his elbow inside of you
last Tuesday.)

What did intrigue me was the offers of reciprocal sex-shows 'starring' men
and little boys - a variation of 'you show me yours, and I'll show you
mine' I hadn't tho0ught of. When I tackled Oscar about this, he was his
usual forthright self.

"Would you do it, Uncle Tom? Would you? I would... but only with you?"

There's a note of excitement in the boy's voice that takes me by
surprise. Only fifteen minutes ago, I'd been giving him hell about the
whole cam/chat business, and here he was trying to persuade me into taking
part with him. First things first.

"Now many men have you been on cam with?" I ask.

"Mmmm... do you mean one at a time or when there's a crowd of them?"

"A crowd of them?!" I'm horrified. "Do you mean more than one man can watch
you at a time?"

"Yeh, lots." Oscar sighs. "You don't know much, do you?"

"Never mind how much I know. How many?"

"Well, one afternoon on Tiny Chat I had 22 viewers."

"Tiny Chat? Viewers."

"Yeh." He sounds a little exasperated. "Tiny Chat is one of them sites
where anyone, everyone can just visit and open up their cam. We all do
it. But I set up my room - chat room - and then invite viewers. Nobody can
watch if they're not invited."

The learning curve is steep but I'm getting there.

"On Blog TV you can get hundreds of viewers."

"Hundreds!"

"Yeh, but they're very strict there. You get booted off if you try any rude
stuff. The girls get most viewers 'cos they show half their tits, and roll
round on the carpet, and do handstands and stuff. Just think of all them
boys - and pervs - sitting wanking, watching them." He giggles, then goes
on. "But things like Skype is much better for one-to-one. The picture
quality is a lot better and it's really private."

"And you know some guys - with boys, I mean - who would...?" I don't know
how to finish the sentence. I don't try.

"Oh, yeh, it's easy." He thinks. "What kinda boy you want? I mean, what
age? Want a black boy?"

I'm flustered.

"Mmmm... I'll leave all that to you."

"What day is it?" The question is addressed to himself. "Friday. Good. I'm
staying here this weekend. That makes it easier.  What's time
now. Five. Mum won't be here for an hour. Let me show you some of the vids
I collected. Some of them you won't believe. Some of them are
really... dirty."

Saturday evening, couch pulled up close to the computer and web cam, both
of us in our bathrobes, mine silk, Oscar's a fetching blue, both naked
beneath, Oscar perched on my lap, adjusting himself to make room for my
hard cock between his buttocks.  He is absorbed in rapping the
keys. Suddenly they are there on the screen, a man and a boy, gazing back
at us.

"Hi, there," comes a voice. The accent is antipodean, Australia or New
Zealand, I'm not certain. "I'm Ray, and this is Timmy."  A small boy raises
his hand and waves tentatively back. They are both naked. Ray seated on a
what looks like a high-seated green armchair, the boy Timmy seated on the
man's knees.

"Hi, there," smiles Oscar, waving back. "I'm Mikey, and this is my dad
Adam."

"You new to this?" asks Ray. Oscar nods. "Well, we'd better show
you. Here's a little tour to get started.

Ray lifts Timmy and balances him on his knees. The boy stands there
precariously, his belly, hips, and genital region filling our screen. "As
you can see," says Ray, "Timmy is a well-built boy for his age. Look at
that little pot belly. Look at his sweet little button. And look there, not
a single pub, and not likely to be for some time." Ray laughs while he
speaks; already he sounds like some demented commentator at a dog
show. "Watch how he gets hard, really quick." Nicotined fingers that seem
huge in comparison with Timmy's small-boy penis begin to play with the
child's cock and balls. "Not much there yet," says Ray, "but watch," and we
do as the blood pumps into the boys penis, and we watch it swell from all
of two inches soft to three inches erect. "Not much in the way of balls
yet," (Timmy's balls are little acorns in a slightly wrinkled sac.) "so
don't expect much in the way of cum. In fact, don't expect any, but I'll
make up for that when I rub mine all over him." That laugh again.

"Really sweet on this side, too," Ray continues as he turns the boy round
to give us a full-screen view of his buttocks. The nicotined- fingers part
the cheeks, and the boy is pushed forward so that the immediate area his
anus fills the screen. "Sweet ain't it?  And well broken in to." The
bruising round the boy's hole is obvious, and the reason becomes clear as
the tip of Ray's middle finger brings to stroke the opening. "Look, guys,
no lube needed. I'm beginning to think Timmy likes it this way - doncha,
kiddo?" The finger tip corkscrews it way into the boys hole that opens up
like a tiny flower. From the loudspeakers comes the unmistakable sound of
whimpering. "Aw, for Chrissake, you've had a lot more than that up inside
you, you little faggot." That's to Timmy. To us it's, "Ain't amazing how
easy the stretch when you keep at it?"

Suddenly there's a flurry of flesh on the screens and...

Timmy is being held upside down. Naked, he is facing a naked Ray. The boy's
face and mouth dangle above a belly thick with black hair, a huge pubic
bush, and gnarled, veined shaft of flesh topped with a head that looks like
a small peach. Hips are raised along with Ray's voice, "Open wide for
daddy," and as Timmy makes a big oval with his lips, the huge head is
pushed into his mouth, and the hips begin to rise and fall in piston-like
movements. In the background we hear Justin Bieber - "one of Timmy's
favourites," Ray tells us between breathy gasps. The cam pans upwards to
find the man's face jammed tightly between the child's buttocks. "Fucking
hell," comes Ray again, "this beats a big Mac anytime". The cam pans
backdown and focuses on the boy's face - his eyes are teary, his mouth
stretched to the limit by a cock that must be bouncing off the roof his
throat. Something flashes on the screen for a moment, and Oscar whispers,
"They're filming it. They pay if you let them film it."

"Ooops a-daisy," sings Ray. Timmy is upended and planted back on his lap
facing the cam. "Let's try this end now," he croons.

The cam gets in so close you can see the bulbous head of Ray's penis
pressing against Timmy's hole. There isn't much resistance, at least for
the first two inches but it's hardly credible that tiny bottom can take 8
or is it 9 inches of swollen, hardened flesh. Ray's hips rise and fall as
if he is screwing his flesh into the boy, which in truth he is. The silence
from the boy is unsettling. The cam pans back to his face. The boy's eyes
are glassy, his big-eyed gaze unfocussed. The cam pans back down. Seven
inches at least are bedded inside the boy. "Sometimes they need a little
help," laughs Ray, "but when they snap out of it... that's when the real
fun begins." He pauses, then, "What's your specialty, Adam?"

I reach out and close our end of the cam share. The last thing I see is
Ray's leering grin.

"Get your clothes on," I tell Oscar. I must be using by teacher-voice
because Oscar clambers from me with no protest and disappears into his
bedroom. I follow, but enter mine, where I change into comfortable, casual
clothes. By the time Oscar emerges, I've returned the couch and placed the
computer chair where it should be. Oscar, without being asked, takes the
seat.

"Delete all of your folders," I instruct.

"All of them?" he enquires.

When there is no response, he carefully highlights each folder - 001PICS -
002VIDS - 003STORIES - 004CHATS - and deletes each one of them with a
stroke of the key. Then he goes to the Recycle Bin and deletes all of
them. He looks at me. I nod. He selects the programme ERASER and sets it to
write over the unused space on the C:drive seven times. By morning, it will
be gone, all of it, forever.

I sit on the couch, call him over and pat the space beside me. He looks
full into my eyes.

"Oscar," I say, "do you want to stay here and do the things we've just
seen? Or do you want to go and have fish and chips, and then go and see
'The Karate Kid'?

"'The Karate Kid!'" he says, adding, "Who needs that perv shit?"

As he skips off to get his jacket, I think, "You don't. And here's hoping I
don't."

(to be concluded in Part 10)