Date: Thu, 9 Sep 2004 23:16:27 -0500 From: H. Rick Cantwell <zestful@myexcel.com> Subject: Rascal Part Four Rascal Part four Conspiracies and Cover-ups (M/M, Oral, Anal, Incest, Voyeur) This is a continuing story. Constructive criticism is welcome, at zestful@myexcel.com. Mention the title in the Subject line or I might delete it by accident, thinking it's spam. Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters in this story might not practice safe sex, so you should not imitate their behavior. Save a life--your own--by practicing safe sex. If you're not old enough to read stories involving graphic descriptions of sex between consenting males, or if such stories are illegal where you live, do not continue reading beyond this sentence. Rascal Part four Conspiracies and Cover-ups Friday at work, I saw Jason in the break room during lunch. No one else was around. He didn't actually avoid me but he didn't go out of his way to be friendly, either. I figured Jason was in one hell of a quandary because he had given Ryan a blowjob and he couldn't be sure if Ryan had told me. I couldn't reveal to him that Ryan didn't keep his secret but I couldn't let Jason worry, either. "Thanks for taking care of Ryan the other day," I said smiling inwardly at my unintentional double meaning, when I remembered Jason had shown him around the warehouse after giving Ryan the blowjob. Standing at the vending machine with his back to me, Jason turned to look over his shoulder at me. He caught my smile. "No problem, he's a nice kid." "A little precocious but ya gotta love the little rascal," I said, again smiling at the double entendre on the word 'love.' Jason pulled on the medium-length hairs that dusted his chin to form a weak guise of a goatee. Looking at me with a quizzical look, he asked, "Uh, I didn't get him in any trouble, did I?" "No, he gets into trouble all by himself. We never point fingers at others when Ryan's involved." "Good, I was ... uh ... I didn't want to get him ..." "By the way," I whispered, "Ryan suckered you." Jason's eyes got wide at the word 'suckered.' I think he was about ready to protest that it was the other way around until his brain had time to register that I'd said 'suckered,' not 'sucked.' "Whaddya mean?" "He knew about our Scratch and Dent policy before he let you ... get suckered in." Jason eyed me suspiciously. "How?" "I told him over a month ago and I guess his active imagination was waiting for just the right sucker." It was all I could do to keep from laughing each time I used any derivation of the word "suck." Jason flinched when I said 'sucker.' Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, "He seems like such a sweet kid, who'd believe he could be so deceptive?" "Only those who know and love him. That's why I thought you should know. In case he ever comes back, ya know?" "Thanks for the heads up." "By the way," I said offhandedly, "he's at that age where he's preoccupied with sex." Jason dropped the candy bar he just retrieved from the vending machine and quickly bent to pick it up. "Ten second rule!" he yelled and then sheepishly said, "My kids always say that when they drop something they don't want to throw away." "Works for me," I said, "so long as it's not a declaration of your staying power." Seeing Jason's quizzical look, I made a jack-off motion with my hand and said, "I hope it takes longer than ten seconds." Jason blushed. "The only reason I mentioned Ryan's obsession with sex right now is so you'll know about it ahead of time. He likes you, so he might start getting, uh ... shall we say ... interested in inviting himself over. He can be very enterprising." "Over?" "He knows you have kids his age. He might try to force himself on you. I don't know how much your kids know about sex but I'll guarantee they'll know more than you want them to know once they get to know Ryan. So, if you'd rather them not know ..." "Uh, damn! Yeah, thanks," Jason stammered. He didn't even realize he casually stroked his tenting trouser bulge a little. "Don't get me wrong. He won't rape 'em or anything, he'll just give 'em a good education." "Uh, ... might be just what they need," Jason said thoughtfully. "Why do you say that?" I asked trying to suppress the intrigue in my voice. "Their mother is a god-fearing, church-going, born-again Christian and she's inundating them with religion. SOME religious instruction is fine, but I think it needs to be tempered with uh..." "A pinch of reality?" I offered. "Exactly. She has them enrolled in youth groups at the church three nights a week--and that's in addition to Sunday School and the regular church service. They sing in the choir, they go to youth camp two weeks each summer ..." "So what do the kids think about it? What do they tell you when their mom's not around?" "It's not so much what they say as the looks they give me. When Sherita starts talking religion, they kinda roll their eyes. Or when they're leaving the house to go to the church, they give me that look-- kinda like lambs going to the slaughter." "Sounds to me like you could use Ryan's assistance ... to help balance the scales. What if Ryan invites them over to my place sometime--for a play date, so to speak. Then I can keep an eye on him, kinda rein him in a little, until we see what their reaction is." "If you'd do that, you'd be a blessing in disguise. I'd feel so much better if those kids knew there was something else out there. I don't care which one they choose--spiritual or secular--but I want them to at least have a choice." "I don't suppose you'd want to come with them ... to my place, I mean. Just to make sure nothing uh ... disturbing takes place." "Uh ..." Jason said, again absentmindedly rubbing the hard-on in his pants. "Yeah, I could do that ... if it's all right with Ryan, uh ... and you, of course." "I'll talk to Ryan and see what he says." "Oh, yeah, sure, of course, uh ... okay. But uh, I better get back to work." Apparently he was nervous talking about sex and Ryan in the same sentence, so I said, "Yeah, me too." I walked around the rest of the day with half a hard-on myself, thinking about watching Ryan and Jason getting it on together or Ryan teaching Jason's son, Tyler, the fine art of cocksucking. Two of my customers seemed to appreciate my state of arousal, too. After I handed each of them my business card, they paid for their purchase and left, but they came back a half-hour later. "Forgot to ... uh, look over your selection of computer games," the one with the eyebrow piercing said. His head was tilted so he was talking more to my cock than to my face. His buddy said, "Yeah, we like to play ... uh, games." His tongue stud gleamed as he laughed. Then they both chuckled at their "inside" joke. "Me, too," I said. "I'm here if you need anything. You've got my card, right?" Tongue Stud patted his breast pocket and said, "Right here." They moved away to look at the display of games. A little later, while I was cashing out another customer, I heard Eyebrow Stud say, "No way!" Tongue Stud said, "It's true! Look!" As I turned to look their way, I watched them compare the name on the business cards I'd given them and simultaneously look in my direction. My paying customer left during the fella's discussion so I smiled, glanced down at my crotch and nodded my head as if to say, "Yep, Dick Hickey." I thought, 'Mother's sense of humor when it came to naming me has gotten me laid more often than not. Maybe it'll work again.' The guys must have been frightened off by my bold acknowledgment because they left shortly thereafter. It was just as well because I don't make dates on company time. When five-thirty rolled around, I started getting nervous. Lyle was due over at my place around six and I felt, as an adult, duty-bound to talk to him about Ryan and his bizarre needs. When I got home, I decided to stay dressed in my work clothes, just so I'd be a little more on edge, a little more astute, a little more resourceful, rather than get comfortable. Lyle sat at the dining table after I poured him a cup of coffee. "We can drink in the living room if you want." "This is fine." Lyle said. Knowing Lyle was used to having his own way, I didn't insist. "So what is it you need to talk about?" Lyle asked in his no- nonsense business-like tone. "Lyle, it's not unusual for young boys, young gay boys, to have what is called a father fixation. Are you familiar with the term?" "Yeah, it's similar to the Electra Complex that a daughter has for her father--sort of a misdirected Oedipus Complex." "Well, I think that's what we're dealing with as far as Ryan's concerned." "No, I don't think so. He'd have told me. Besides, he knows I'm not gay--and his mother gave him a stern lecture on incest when she found out about Ryan and her brother Marty." "That's part of why I think Ryan has a father fixation." "Part?" Lyle asked with genuine concern for his son's well being. "The other night, I called him 'sport' and 'squirt' and he reminded me that my pet name for him was Rascal. But later, when we ... well, I accidentally referred to him as 'son' and he picked up on it. I mean, REALLY picked up on it. He even shivered once when I said it." "Isn't that kinda grasping for straws?" "Perhaps. Most boys his age are interested in experimenting with guys their own age but Ryan only finds older guys attractive as sexual conquests." "Maybe he's a ... what's the phrase ... a size queen?" "That's possible," I said dubiously. "After all, he has one hellava honker on him for a kid his age. At least mine wasn't that big at fourteen," Lyle said. "Maybe he's just looking for guys bigger than he is." "I know Ryan's gonna tell you all about what we did, so I guess it's safe to confess having seen it. And you're right, he does have a big one. But my size didn't seem to have an effect on him one way or the other. So ... let's just say ... I went fishin' after that. I even said something like, 'It sounds to me like you'd like to get it on with your dad,' and he tried to act real casual about it but I could hear in his voice that it would mean a lot to him." "Well, there's no way in hell that's gonna happen," Lyle said. "I'm pretty sure he knows that, but I was hoping ..." "No. Nyet. Nada. Nine. No way." I smiled. "Oh sure, you can say 'no' to me but can you say 'no' to Ryan?" Lyle grimaced at the thought. "It really is tough saying 'no' to the little rascal but I've been known to do it and stand by my word. But why are you telling me all this?" "Well, I don't think it's something Ryan would talk to you about. He told me he briefs you on what he does but he doesn't go into graphic detail, is that right?" "Thank God! I'm not sure my weak heart could stand it," Lyle said, pounding his right fist against his chest, jokingly. "But you have some idea of what he's doing. I mean the physical aspects of his ... adventures." "Yeah, I've had a few sleepless nights." "Not while he was staying with me, I hope." "Oddly enough, those few days he was with you, I didn't worry about him one bit. I thought about him, of course. I always think about him when I'm out of town." "You miss him," I said more as a statement than a question. With a wry smile, Lyle said, "More than my wife." "Your secret's safe with me." I said. "Now, there's one other problem ... or maybe a better word is ... situation." With a worried look on his face, Lyle said, "It sounds like I'm not gonna like this." "Probably not." "By the way, has he told you about ... our time together?" "Uh, I think his comment was, 'Things went great. Can we talk about it Saturday?' To me, that translates to 'Nothing to worry about, nothing to hide.'" Thinking about the two times I caught Ryan deliberately omitting information I said, "How can you be sure he's not trying to hide something." "If that's the case, he gets the talk out of the way first thing. He thinks by describing in detail the events of the evening, like what movie he went to, what food each of them had and such as that, I'll get bored and forget to ask the pertinent questions. Don't get me wrong, not everything he does is sexual, I swear! It's just that Ryan is so forthright about who he's with and what they're up to, there are times I feel I'm blessed." "Having spent some quality time with Ryan, I'd have to agree." "So what's this situation you're talking about?" "You're not gonna like it." Lyle's eyebrows furrowed. "Ryan wants to videotape himself having sex." "No way! That's kiddie porn." "That's what I told him. I even explained we'd go to prison for it." "Good. I'm glad that's settled." "He also wants you to watch him have sex." "Nope. Not a chance. Hearing about it is bad enough," Lyle said, shaking his head like he was trying to rid bad thoughts from his mind. "Well, he says you're gonna HAVE to. I told him what he had in mind was blackmail but he said he didn't care." "Blackmail?" Lyle looked dubious. "The other day when he went to work with me, he ... propositioned a coworker to run into a big screen TV in exchange for a blowjob. And you know how Ryan can be. My coworker didn't have a chance against Ryan's wiles." "How is that blackmail?" Lyle asked. "Ryan said he wants me to videotape the two of us ... him and me, having sex-- but with you in the room. If you don't agree to it, he's going to swear my coworker forced himself on him. The guy's got a wife and two kids. It would ruin him." Lyle's head fell forward into his palms and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands like he had a headache. "Oh, God, tell me this isn't happening." "Honest to god, Lyle, I had no idea Ryan was doing anything other than being a perfect gentleman at work. But I really think Ryan will do this. He's got his sights set on something he wants and you know he'll get his way--one way or another." "Dick, help me out here. We can't let him get away with this." "I've tried to figure a way out of this, but I can't. Well, not entirely," I said, sounding unsure of myself. "What do you mean?" Lyle asked expectantly. "Listen to what I have to say--all the way through--and see what you think. Okay?" "I'm all ears." 'That's not what Ryan says,' I thought but kept it to myself. Instead, I said, "We let Ryan think he's getting what he wants but we put our own provisos on it. You come over and sit in that chair," I said, pointing to the arm chair that was at a right angle to one end of the sofa. "I'll set up the camcorder over there," I said, pointing to the hallway. "That way, all three of us will be in the video. Ryan and I will, uh ... do whatever it is he wants to do but once it's taped, we--you and I--stand together as a united front and tell him the video has to stay in a safe at your place." "I don't want it at MY house!" "It's the only way. Ryan gets his tape, so then he can't blackmail my coworker." "I don't know," Lyle groaned. "Maybe a safe deposit box at the bank." "You could keep it here," Lyle suggested. "No way! I can't have it here. If I ever got searched, I'd never get parole. And you know what lifers do to child molesters-- even though, technically, I wouldn't be a child molester." "Why does he want to videotape it?" "Well," I said sarcastically, "some well-meaning individual allows him to view adult porno in the comfort of his own home, so I guess he thinks he can be a porn star, too." "I thought if I let him watch it at home, he could wear off some of his sexual energy in his bedroom instead of at school or on the street or wherever." "In theory, it should have worked. You just didn't allow for Ryan's vivid imagination. You told me he writes espionage scenarios, didn't you?" "Yeah. I just never expected to be included in one." "So, are we gonna do this?" I asked hopefully. "I hate to let my son get away with blackmail but I can't let your coworker get caught in the middle of all this, either." "What's your Saturday like?" "Does it have to be that quick?" "I've discovered, anything this monumental needs to be done right away, before WE get cold feet--or before RYAN comes up with something even more diabolical." "Bite your tongue!" Then, in a tone that implied he had no other choice Lyle asked, "What time?" "It's my regular day off so it doesn't really matter but Ryan wants to come over by noon. I had planned on pizza for lunch." "How long do you think this will take?" "Ryan's gonna be the director, I guess, so there's no telling." "I'll clear my schedule. God, I hate this. He's gonna get his way this time but he's gonna be grounded for a month." "Don't go poking sticks at the monster and make him mad. He just might retaliate." "Don't even think it!" Lyle shuddered. "So, I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow around noon." "Guess so." "Uh, I've got an idea. Don't let on to Ryan that we've agreed to this or that we've even discussed it. If you bring him over and he doesn't mention it by the time lunch is over, maybe he'll have forgotten about it." "Or hopefully, come to his senses." "Hopefully," I said. Lyle was still shaking his head in disbelief when he got on the elevator. I phoned Ryan a soon as I got back in the apartment. "It's me," Ryan said when he answered. "Rascal, want to play a game with me tomorrow?" "Sure, what kind of game?" he asked excitedly. "I can't tell you but it kinda like espionage." "Really? Kewl!" "Okay, this is what you have to do. After we finish lunch, you turn to me and say, 'Shall we get started?' Then I'll ask you what you're talking about. All you have to say is, 'We already discussed this, Uncle Dickey.' But you have to say it like you're irritated." "Then what?" "That's the surprise." "A surprise! Oh goody. What is it?" "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. But that's when the espionage part begins. You have to play your part as covertly as you can. Understand?" "Give me a hint." "If I did, you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. And if you pester me about it, you can't come over ever again." "Uncle Dickey, you're killin' me here." "Now you know how it feels when you don't know all the rules of the game like you do to me all the time. Oh, by the way, hold off telling your dad about your sleepover until after you come over tomorrow, Okay?" "Sure." "Good. Oh, yeah, uh ... I thought it over and I wouldn't tell him about spying on him when he's having sex just yet, either. See you tomorrow." "ALL of me," Ryan giggled. I smiled smugly. Ryan didn't know his father was staying for lunch. He didn't know I was going to videotape him having sex. And he didn't know his father would be watching him have sex. If all went as I had it planned, I'd not only give Ryan what he wanted but I'd copy the tape and keep it for protection against blackmail. After hanging up, I got the camcorder out, made sure all the connections were clean and I had plenty of blank tapes. I tested the best spot for the tripod by first sitting in the chair and then moving to stretch out on the sofa while videotaping myself. I didn't want to use the telescopic lens feature for fear of losing some of the action. It took a couple of test runs but I got it far enough away that it captured all the action but was also close enough to see what was happening. I put three small pieces of transparent tape on the floor where the three legs of the tripod would set, hoping Lyle wouldn't see them. I didn't want him to think I'd put too much thought into this or he'd think it was a set-up--which, of course, it was. I tossed and turned most of the night worrying whether I could get away with this scheme. If I did, I'd have my protection against prosecution--almost. If not, I would be on my way back to prison for good. All my faith and hope relied on the passion and devotion of one 14-year-old boy. Since I didn't want any interruptions once Lyle and Ryan arrived, I phoned to have the pizzas delivered early--around eleven. One of the perks of working at The Appliance Emporium was, I could have any new kitchen gadget at "cost" just so I could describe to customers how well it worked. Since I eat so much pizza--something we didn't often get in prison--I bought one of those revolving pizza warmers as soon as they came on the market. 'If all goes as planned,' I thought, 'it will be the best purchase I ever made, except for the camcorder, of course.' I showered and shaved around ten, changed the bed linen and bath towels and set out fresh hand towels in the kitchen. Then as an afterthought, I put a few at the end of the sofa nearest the chair where Lyle would be sitting. All the while, I had visions of how well things were going to go and my cock would chubb up from excitement. Then, in the next moment, I'd worry that all my plans would come crashing down around my ears and my cock would shrivel up in terror. I kept this up all morning until my cock thought it was a yo-yo. I was visualizing a swat team banging down my door with a battering ram when the door buzzer sounded. "It's me," Ryan said when he heard the intercom activate. Then I heard a stern, "Identify yourself properly!" followed by, "It's Rascal and his pesky daddy." As I buzzed them in, I smiled at what Ryan was able to get away with where his dad was concerned. Again, I waited outside in the hallway for them. I was not prepared for what I saw. As Ryan came charging toward me like a runaway locomotive, Lyle eased out of the elevator. He was wearing skintight short-shorts, a T-shirt custom-cut just below his nipples and oxblood loafers without socks. My breath was knocked out of me when Ryan jumped up, but at least this time I was ready to support his weight by gripping his butt. Seeing my shocked expression, Ryan looked back toward Lyle and said, "I dressed him today. Daddy reneged on a promise so it's a forfeit he had to pay off. He's hot, isn't he?" Every other time I'd seen Lyle, he was wearing a suit. The couple of times I thought about him--his body--I imagined it as fish belly white and flabby from his desk job. What was walking down the hall was toned, muscular and tan. Triceps, biceps and deltoids bulged on both sides straining the sleeves . The bottoms of his pecs, peeking out from under the cutoff T, formed a mesa so straight across you could use it for a ruler. His abs were so defined, they looked like grids on a topographical map. His thigh muscles stretched the seams of his shorts to the limits of their endurance. "The shorts are Uncle Marty's and I cut off the T myself. Can you believe he actually wanted to wear socks! Sometimes I think the government brainwashes their ..." "Sorry, Dick, I didn't know Ryan was gonna dress me up in this Halloween costume," Lyle said. Letting Ryan down, I shook Lyle's hand, then turned to Ryan. "The Village People are a little out of date even for my generation." Then, turning to Lyle with a smile, I said, "Let's get you inside before my neighbors call the fashion police." "Just wait till Ryan starts dictating how YOU dress," Lyle threatened good-naturedly. "Undress," Ryan chimed in. "No, we're not going to undress," I scolded. Giggling, Ryan said, "I meant, wait till I start dictating to you how to undress. I haven't forgotten you reneged and owe me a forfeit, too." Lyle groaned. "Does he ever talk about anything other than sex?" "Food." "Yeah, where's the food? I'm a growing boy, you know." Then he grabbed his crotch to display his fat mound of round. "I ordered two--sausage, mushrooms and black olives." "That's my favorite," Ryan said. "That's for the grownups," I said. Then kidding, I said, "The other one--the one for you, young man--has anchovies, asparagus and chocolate." "Yuck!" Ryan said before brightly adding, "Okay." I asked Ryan, "Would you set the table, please?" From the look on Lyle's face, he had never seen Ryan set a table without first putting up a fight. I couldn't read his expression when he discovered Ryan knew where everything was without having to ask. "How is it you can't do anything at home without asking your mother a dozen questions but you can do it over here all by yourself?" Lyle asked. "Mom needs to feel needed, so I help out as much as I can by asking a lot of questions," Ryan said impishly. "Torment is more like it." Lyle said. I put the warmer on the table, slipped the first of the pizzas on the turntable and, warning them not to trip over the cord, we sat down to wait for it to warm. Shortly thereafter, Ryan was trying to be the center of attention by monopolizing the conversation--but only succeeded in talking with his mouth full. Lyle was, however, the focus of my attention. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, not quite military style. His complexion was smooth and supple, creating laugh lines around his eyes when his son said anything the least bit funny. His teeth were big, white and surrounded by luscious kissable lips. While we continued to eat, Ryan's chatter was in the background of my thoughts. 'I don't know why I've never looked at Lyle like this before. Maybe it's the ever-present suit that kept my thoughts strictly on business. Or maybe the fact that he's with the government and I'm fearful of his motives. Most likely, it's because Ryan eclipses everyone else in the room with his presence.' Lyle and I ate three slices each while Ryan devoured the other six. When I suggested we save the other pizza for later, I half expected Ryan to beg for more but he readily agreed. I was putting it in the refrigerator when Lyle said, "I hate to eat and run, but ..." Ryan looked at me for my reaction. From where Lyle was sitting, he couldn't see me, so I made a facial expression encouraging Ryan to begin. "Shall we get started?" Ryan asked. "Doing what?" I asked in my best I-don't-know-what-you're- talking-about tone of voice. "We've already discussed this, Uncle Dickey." Ryan could have won an Academy Award for his acidic performance. As I walked out of the kitchen, I looked at Lyle and shrugged. "Uh, Lyle, uh ... it looks like ... uh ..." Ryan looked at me expectantly. To Lyle it might have looked like an expression of determination. "Would you go sit in the chair?" I asked Lyle politely. "Ryan, will you help me get the equipment?" "Sure," he said, following me into the bedroom. Handing him the camcorder, I grabbed the tripod and whispered, "Just go along with me. Don't ask questions." Returning, I carefully positioned the tripod on the tape marks and snapped the camcorder onto it. "Uh, Ryan, go sit on the sofa." Once he was seated, I started it taping. It was a two-hour tape, so I didn't have to rush. I sat next to Ryan and said, "This is Ryan and he has a fantasy he'd like to act out. Since he's underage, his father is here, uh ... to supervise, I guess. His father is aware that Ryan is ..." "I'm gay," Ryan blurted out, looking at the camcorder, "and I've always wanted to see myself in action. You know, doing the sexy stuff. You could really say this is a documentary or maybe a self-help video. You know, so I can learn from my mistakes. Daddy says it's okay to make mistakes so long as you learn something from them. Anyway, I know it's illegal for either of these guys to do it, so I'm doing it all by myself, with their help, of course." Ryan thrust his thumb toward Lyle. "This is my dad. He's the best dad in the whole world. He's not forcing me to do this. In fact, uh," Ryan wrapped one arm across the front of my waist, "as soon as we get started, you'll know I'm telling the truth. He's not makin' me do this either," Ryan said looking up into my face. "He's nervous about us making this movie, too, but I want it so bad and he said he could only help me if my dad was present. That way, no one can say it's illegal. I mean, it's no different than taking home movies at a nudist camp or those guys who do the news in the nude. Well, maybe a little different but it's not as bad as those news reports on TV that show those mutilated bodies in those foreign hospitals with the flies crawling all over 'em and stuff. Oh, and the dead people. Those are gross!" "We get the idea, Ryan," I admonished. "Besides, this movie's gonna be cool. Can I use your name?" Ryan asked, looking up at me. "In for a penny, in for a pound." I said. "What Ryan is trying to say is that this is for his own personal use and is not intended for viewing by anyone other than ... well, the three of us." I watched Lyle's face for any change of expression but he didn't blink an eyelash. I could imagine all the dread going through his mind. "You see," Ryan said, looking at the camera, "I told Uncle Dickey--he's not my real uncle, he's just a good friend, that I wanted to get butt-fucked." Lyle groaned. "... and he told me it should be with someone special and in a special way--something I'd always remember. Anyway, there's no one more special to me than Uncle Dickey. Maybe Uncle ..." I clasped a hand over Ryan's mouth and said, "Let's just keep this between the three of us. No need to get anyone else in trouble." "Oh, yeah, well, anyway ... Hey! Can we get undressed now?" Without waiting for an answer, Ryan had his shirt off and his pants around his ankles. "Only down to your underpants," I said sharply. Lyle had his head at a slightly downward pitch and he looked up at me as if he were looking over the rims of nonexistent glasses. I read in his eyes a silent 'thank you.' "Come on, I'll help you," Ryan said when he saw I was hesitating. He had his shoes off before he stood in front of me to pull my T-shirt off. For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything but what a great shot the camcorder was getting of his Spiderman briefs web-covered ass and I started to bone up. "Lift you butt so I can get these off," Ryan said, tugging at my cut-off jeans. "You, too, Daddy," Ryan said wrestling my shorts off. "You know I can't do that." "Oh yeah, you're not wearing underpants. I told him not to because it shows his package so nice, don't you think?" "This isn't about him," I admonished. Very quietly Lyle said, "Thanks." Bouncing into a seated position next to me on the sofa, Ryan said, "So, want me to butt-fuck you first? No. How about if I suck you, then you can rim me, then ... or better yet ..." "Ryan ..." "I've got another idea. I thought about it last night. Get up on your knees and face me." I did as instructed, kneeling on the sofa. "I'm gonna suck you till you're hard and then we'll get started." I rolled my eyes as Lyle moaned, wondering what Ryan had thought of in the middle of the night. "Watch this, Daddy. He's got a huge one but I can take the whole thing." Ryan pulled my cock out the fly of my boxers and began slurping. True to his word, he was deep-throating me within three or four sucking strokes. I was hard almost instantly. Ryan got on his knees facing me and put the head of my dick in the fly of his underpants. "Now fuck my cock. Can you feel how hard I am?" My cock followed the contour of his fat tube across his abdomen toward his left hip. With both our cocks in the tiny pouch of his "webs," I thought they would rip apart but they didn't. The other night, I noticed the size label in his waistband indicated age 6-10. The tiny opening of the fly around my thick cock had the same effect as a cock ring, causing the blood to stay trapped next to Ryan's hot man/boy peter. "This is awesome!" Ryan shouted. "I can feel your pre-cum coating my dick with slime. I don't pre-cum very much. Is that normal? Maybe I'll start getting slickier as I get older, don't you think? Hey, can we take these off now?" Without waiting, Ryan, with his youthful agility, squirmed out of his briefs before I could say a word. What resulted was my cock being choked around the base by the fly of his underpants and the waistband being draped over the tip of my erect cock . "Look out! It's the mad monk!" Ryan screamed. "He's gonna spit in your eye!" Even Lyle smiled at Ryan's remarks and the comical way my cock was draped. "Take those stupid boxers off but leave my 'webs' on, okay?" The briefs were so small, I was able to draw them through the fly of my boxers as I slipped them off. "Lick my butt, Uncle Dickey. Get it ready for you to take my cherry." "Where do you learn this stuff?" I asked. "On the Internet." "Oh, good. I was afraid they might be teaching it in school, nowadays." "Nah, school's boring. Except gym class. Coach ... umm Handful--that's not his real name--says we have to all respect each other and not laugh just because somebody's got a little dick .. or in my case, a big one." Ryan gripped his cock and hunched his hips. "Give me a quick suck before you start on my ass, okay? It really hurts, it's so full." "As big as it is, I bet it hurts something awful," I agreed. Out the corner of my eye, I watched Lyle as I laid on the sofa on my belly to suck Ryan's cock. His expression didn't change but he didn't look away either. Because of my position, and the arm of the chair, I couldn't see if what we were doing was having any effect on him or not. "Now, my starfish," Ryan said, twisting around to lean over the arm of the sofa. As I raised up to start rimming Ryan's hole, I looked over from my new viewing perspective to see a huge wet spot on Lyle's shorts. I knew any sex act--straight or gay--could get a sexually healthy guy's 'nads flowing, so at first I didn't think anything of it. I snuggled the fly of Ryan's underpants tight against the base of my cock like a cockring, making sure Lyle had ample opportunity to admire the size of my stiff butt-reamer. Then I got to work, sucking on Ryan's ass. While my tongue probed and prodded and Ryan said 'ooh' and 'aah,' I wondered if Lyle was secretly enjoying the performance. From Ryan's higher vantage point, he could look over and down into his dad's lap. "Wow, Daddy! You've got a boner! You can take it out if you want. It's not like I haven't seen it before." I poked Ryan in the butt cheek with my finger to remind him to shut up about spying on his dad and seeing him naked. "Remember when we were at the lake and your swim trunks came off?" I blew a raspberry into Ryan's butthole and he giggled hysterically. "Do it again," Ryan squealed. At the same time Ryan squealed, Lyle said defensively, "But I wasn't hard." I thought, 'Hell, I'd like to see Lyle's dick!' So, coming to Ryan's aid, I said, "It's not like he hasn't seen a hard-on before, so I don't see why you can't show it to him." "I don't think so," Lyle said, adjusting his cock into a more comfortable position in his tight shorts. "Let's just get this over with, okay?" "Yeah, fuck me," Ryan said. "Man, having you fuck me with my dad looking on! I've been dreaming of this my whole life. How much more special can it get?" I'm glad Ryan didn't mention the camera. Once Lyle got engrossed in what Ryan and I were doing, I got the impression he forgot about being recorded. At first, he wasn't saying a word, but now, he was at least talking--if only a little. Ryan on the other hand has a bad habit of talking to the two of us in the same breath. "Hey, you've got towels down here," Ryan said. "Should I put one under me so that when you fuck the cum out of me by punching my butt nutt, I don't get it all over the sofa?" "That's why they're called cumrags," I said. "Hey, Daddy, at least take off your shirt. Give Uncle Dickey a look at your chest. It's spectacular! Did you ever see Monument Valley in Utah? Well, Daddy's pecs would put those rocks to shame," Ryan said enthusiastically. "No, that's okay," Lyle said quietly. "Aw com'on, Daddy. You got to see Dickey's dick, let him see your muscles. Three of your meetings each week are held in the gym so you can stay buff, isn't that right, Daddy?" "It's not like he's asking you to join us," I said. "He's just asking you to get comfortable and supply me with some eye candy at the same time. There's no harm in that." Lyle rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt off over his head. I sucked in a deep breath when his physique was revealed. Separately, the arms were nice, the abs were nice but when it all came into view at once, it was breathtaking. 'No wonder this kid spies on his dad when he's having sex. I'd love to see those muscles in action, too.' "Are you gonna use any slickery stuff?" Ryan asked. "A lubricated condom, yes, but I think you'll need more than that." "No!" Ryan whined. "The first time has to be bareback. Tell him it's okay, Daddy. I want this to be real, not some fake fuck." "Whatever," Lyle said, watching my cock bob in anticipation of fucking his son. "But I swear, Dick, if Ryan ..." "He's not gonna let anything happen to me. He's as protective of me as you are." I poured some lube onto my left palm and then dipped my middle finger in it to begin spreading it on Ryan's pucker. Lyle squirmed as he watched what I was doing. Because of his position, he couldn't actually see my finger go in but when Ryan lurched forward, I'm sure Lyle knew what I'd done. "Oh, man, that feels good," Ryan crooned. I dipped two fingers in the lube and worked those up Ryan's hole, too. "One more and I think you'll be ready." I think Lyle thought I meant one more dip of lube but I'm sure Ryan knew I meant one more finger. I've always been lucky when I topped another guy because I could always get in easily. I have a lot of girth and a huge fat head but it's spongy. For the most part, the rigid portion of my dick is slender but well-padded. For that reason, I was fairly sure Ryan would be able to take me with very little pain. Discomfort from its size, yes, but no real pain. I decided I wanted Lyle to have a better view without him realizing I was setting him up. So, before we got started, I said, "Ryan, I think you'll be more comfortable leaning over the seat of the sofa. Kneel on the floor in front and rest your belly on the edge of the cushion." After Ryan did as I suggested, I said, "Yeah, that opens you up beautifully." Although I couldn't see for sure because my back was to him, I had a sneaky suspicion Lyle was looking at his son's bunghole. He might not find it as pretty as I did but I'm sure he couldn't tear his eyes away from it if his life depended on it. "Okay, son," I said, "take a deep breath and exhale as you feel me slide in. And remember what I said." "Tell you if it hurts. Don't hold back. Don't lie about it." "I'll never fuck you again if you let me hurt you." "I promise." I eased my cockhead into Ryan's ass. I felt him pushing out, not trying to repulse me but to ease the entry. Apparently, he was well- read on the subject of butt-fucking. "You okay?" I asked. "Rapturous," Ryan sighed. "I knew it would be like this. God, I wish you could fuck me forever. I've needed this for a long time." "Haven't you ever used a candle or anything like that before?" "Nope. Never. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to be a true virgin the first time. That's why I didn't want a condom. Using a rubber would be just as fake as a candle." "Ready for me to put some more in?" "You mean it's not all in?" Ryan asked surprised. "Just the head, hon." "Really! Hell yeah, put it all in!" "Deep breath. Let it out slowly." Ryan allowed a long sensuous 'ah' escape his throat the whole time I was sliding into him. Then he felt his underpants, which still had a stranglehold on my fuck tool, crush against his butt cheeks. He screamed, "All right! I did it! Man, this is so unbelievable! It's like the head of your dick is right inside my stomach." "Is it uncomfortable?" I asked, afraid to pull out until I knew exactly how Ryan was feeling. "Umm, no. It's like I'm not hungry." "Words I never thought I'd hear coming out of YOUR mouth," Lyle said under his breath. If blood was pounding in Ryan's ears like I thought it was, he didn't hear his dad's remark. "Okay. I'm gonna pull back. Let me know how it feels." I began easing out and his ass muscles clamped down around my cock. "Ease up or it'll hurt." "It feels like I'm pooping my pants." "Ease up and that feeling will go away. You know you're not ... taking a dump, so everything's okay." "It feels like I'm being drawn into a black hole backward." I eased to a stop and began the inward thrust again. "No, actually, I'm the one in the black hole." As Ryan giggled, he also relaxed and I began a steady in and out motion. "Laughter truly is the best medicine," I said. "You're taking it like a man, now, Rascal." "Daddy, can you see it going in?" Ryan asked, looking over his shoulder at his dad. As Ryan and I looked over, we were just in time to see his dad trying to hide his hard-on. He had it out, apparently stroking it. "No need to be shy around us," I said. "Com'on, Dad, let me see it." Ryan grabbed the hand towel he left discarded on the sofa when we changed positions and tossed it to his dad. "Take off your shorts and lay this over your lap. Uncle Marty's shorts have to be so uncomfortable. They're like two sizes too small for you." I knew where Ryan was going with this. If Lyle wouldn't show us his pecker, maybe we could sneak a peek at it from under the towel. Using one hand, Lyle laid the towel over his lap. Apparently, his stiff dick was beginning to control his decision-making process. Then, modestly covered, he yanked the shorts off. The ends of the towel barely lapped over each side of Lyle's hips. "You about ready to take it like a woman?" I asked Ryan as I pulled out completely. "Sure." Ryan almost laid his head at the end of the sofa closest to his father but I quickly redirected his body so he was lying at the other end. Using my left hand, the one out of view from Lyle, I pointed two fingers in a V shape at Ryan's eyes. Then pointing to my own eyes I silently informed Ryan to focus on my face. His dad didn't know I was positioning Ryan so that, while I was fucking his ass missionary style, Ryan could watch his Dad. But I wanted Ryan to maintain eye contact with me so he wouldn't give away my scheme with overt eye action. If I bent my head just the right way, I could see Lyle, too--without Lyle realizing we were watching him. It took all of Ryan's willpower not to look at his dad but he stayed focused on my face like the best covert operative agent, ever. In this position, I knew Ryan's asshole would be hidden from Lyle's view by my low hanging balls but I planned to take care of that little problem as soon as I started fucking him. I began my strokes and in this position, I was able to scratch Ryan's prostate better. When he started grunting each time I nicked it, I leaned in to whisper in his ear. Ryan's head hid my lips. "Reach between us and grab my nuts so your dad can see me fucking you." A shiver ran through Ryan's body. He grabbed one nut in each hand and wrapped my ball bag around my cock root opening up his fuck hole to his dad's view. Again, whispering, I said, "Don't let him catch you looking but maybe you can see him now." Ryan darted his eyes toward his father to sneak a peek. His whole body trembled from that one quick glance. I raised up a little, so I could crane my neck enough to look under my armpit at Lyle. The towel was pushed up against Lyle's pubes just in case he needed a quick cover-up. He had an angry looking cock head captured beneath white knuckles. 'Damn, that must hurt,' I thought. 'He must be trying to keep himself from cumming.' "Oh, God, Uncle Dickey, that feels so good," Ryan moaned, rolling his head from side to side. Each time his head stopped rolling, it was on his left cheek. The first few times, his eyes stayed closed. Then, the next time, I was close enough to see it. When Ryan stopped tossing his head, his eyelids were open just enough for him to see out but still look like he had them closed. From the sounds coming from Lyle, I figured Ryan was watching his dad stroke his daddy meat. Ryan kept up a stream of dirty dialogue, so his dad would think he was concentrating on me when in reality Ryan's focus was on his dad's handjob--some of the time. Looking under my armpit again, I saw Lyle gripping his 'nads with one hand and holding them away from his body as far as they would stretch. His other hand was beatin' the bishop like the cardinal was out of town. His hand went to his mouth to collect a glob of saliva, only to make loud slapping noises once he started jerking off again. "Jeez, Dad, use some lube, will ya?" Ryan said. Then he grabbed my neck. I lifted him off his back until I was sitting on my heels and Ryan sat impaled on my cock. He wrapped his legs around my waist. Just as Ryan scooped up the bottle of lube off the table, I had an idea of what he wanted to do. Lyle had, predictably, covered his lap with the towel forming a terrycloth teepee. I eased into a standing position. Hanging on with one hand, Ryan upended the bottle and said, "Take the towel off. We've already seen it. Let me get it slippery for you." "No, I ..." "Yes! Or I'll just squirt this all over you." Ryan threatened. Ryan is so impulsive, he sometimes forgets what he's doing, so I eased my cock out of his butt hole just in case he made a sudden move. True to form, Ryan climbed off me and began squirting stream after stream of lube all over his dad. As Lyle raised his hands to protect his face, Ryan grabbed the towel before his father knew what was happening and squirted his crotch. When he tried to protect his 'nads from the force of the squeeze bottle, Ryan aimed spurts at each of his rosy nipples. All the while, Lyle was yelling at Ryan to stop. He begged Ryan not to make a mess of my apartment. Then he warned Ryan that he was going to get in real trouble if he didn't stop. That was followed by threats of being grounded until after he was married--a rather appropriate threat, I thought, since it was unlikely Ryan would ever get married. When the bottle was empty, Ryan looked at me, wiggled all the fingers of both hands and said, "Tickle time." The last coherent word I heard from Lyle was "No!" before Ryan descended on his father to tickle him. As Lyle wrestled his way out of the chair, Ryan tripped him and they rolled onto the floor. The lube was water-soluble and it would wash out of the carpet and chair easily enough, so I decided to give Ryan a hand--well, ten fingers, actually--in tickling his father. Since Lyle at the time was face down, Ryan was tickling the soft tissue under Lyle's arm pits. I began by straddling his calves and tickling the bottoms of his feet. Lyle flipped over almost as soon as I started, so I sat on his thighs, still facing toward his feet. Ryan saw what I was doing, so he straddled his dad's chest with his back to his head and began tickling his waist. Lyle would normally be able to easily flip Ryan off but without the use of his thighs, it became more difficult. The fact that he was laughing weakened his ability, too. The lube all over Lyle made sitting on him a slippery proposition and I wriggled frantically to maintain my balance. It caused my low hangers to dangle between Lyle's thighs, in effect, tickling him better than I could have done with just my fingers. The tender flesh on the inside of his thighs quivered from the sensation. Lyle's peals of laughter subsided abruptly. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Ryan's face was just inches away from his dad's cock. A quick glance at Lyle's face told me he was begging for my help. The grimace, the way his eyes were darting back and forth between Ryan and his cock, and his expression COULD be saying 'Don't let my son touch my cock' or it COULD be saying 'God, I need to cum!' I knew if Ryan forced this issue, it could change their relationship forever--in the worst way. I stood up and turned just as Ryan reached for his dad's cock. I knelt down quickly and gripped Ryan's wrist. Then, just as quickly, I pressed on Lyle's perineum, that soft tissue between his asshole and the back of his ball sack. I massaged it maybe a dozen times and Lyle began to cum. His geysers shot up to splatter on Ryan's face like fireworks exploding in a night sky. When Lyle stopped spurting, Ryan looked up at me and grinned. I licked his father's cum off his face and kissed him, hoping he wouldn't be mad at me for intervening. But even if he got mad, I knew I'd made the right decision--this time. "That was better than what I had in mind," Ryan said. "We'll talk later. But first, you need to get off your dad's chest." "Can you see my butt hole, Daddy?" Ryan asked leaning forward slightly. "Is it as pretty as Uncle Dickey says? It's not hurt, either. He was gentle, Daddy. You should try it sometime. It's like ... Hey, I haven't cum yet!" "Get off your dad and I'll make you cum." "You haven't cum, either," Ryan exclaimed. "Don't worry about that right now," I said. Then, almost gleefully, Ryan said, "Next time, Daddy, you'll listen to me or I'll tie you down and tickle you all night--payback for all the times you terrorized me." "You loved it," Lyle said. Then, as if he was no longer sure, he said, "Didn't you?" "Not as much as this time. Hey! I know. From now on, you can only tickle me when we're both naked." "So you don't ever want to be tickled again?" Lyle said. "Yeah I do! Only now that I've seen you naked, we can be naked more often. Hey, you wanna know what?" "What?" Lyle said more out of habit than curiosity. "You can come over here any time you want and we can all jack-off and do things together." "Ryan, this has already gone too far." Lyle said. "I should have put a stop to it before it even got started." Slipping off his father's chest, Ryan tumbled to lie next to him. I recognized the move. Whenever Ryan began to get tired, he would snuggle. Automatically, his father extended his right arm and Ryan laid his head on the pillow created by Lyle's biceps. While they were getting into position, I eased away to check out how much time was left on the camcorder. When it runs out of tape, it makes a loud clunking noise and then rewinds. I didn't want the noise to interrupt the quality time it appeared they were about to enjoy together. The camcorder showed another twenty minutes left. "Uncle Dickey, where are you?" Ryan moaned. "Right here," I said quietly easing closer to the two of them. "Lie down here with us," Ryan said in a pleading tone. Lyle looked up at me and with an imperceptible nod, gave me his silent blessing. Ryan rested his hand softly on Lyle's right pectoral muscle and rolled onto his left side. Ryan's belly was against his dad's side and his groin nestled gently against his hip. It was a tableau of serenity. I spooned behind Ryan, raised up on my left elbow and rested my head on the heel of my hand. It gave me a great view of the two of them. Ryan's fat cock head was barely visible, crushed against Lyle's hip. It looked like a frog's head coming up out of a pond for air. Having shrunk somewhat from its nine plus inches, Lyle's cock, although still puffy, lay in repose--aimed upward a full seven inches toward his navel. A drop of residue cum clung to the piss slit. I wanted to suck that drop off his cock so much but I just looked at it longingly. I laid my hand on Ryan's hip--something I knew he took comfort in. "This is nice," Ryan moaned. "My two favorite guys. Daddy," Ryan said very seriously, "I love you the most of anyone in the world." Lyle closed his eyes. I don't know if he was filled with dread about what Ryan was going to demand next or filled with elation from hearing those words from the child he loved more than life itself. "I love you, too, son. But you have to understand, I'm not comfortable doing this." Lyle's right hand stroked Ryan's upper arm absentmindedly, causing Ryan's head to bob up and down as the muscle flexed and relaxed with each caress. "I know, but I miss being able to be close to you. If I weren't gay, you and I could do things together, you know, naked and nobody would say a thing." "Like what?" Lyle asked warily. "Shower in the locker room after a game or something like that but, because I'm not straight, I get penalized. Straight sons get to do that kinda stuff with THEIR daddies." "He's got a point," I said. "Well, you know I don't have much time for playing sports with you. In fact, you never gave me any indication you even WANTED to play sports." "Would you if I can figure out a way?" Ryan begged. "I'll think about it." Ryan smiled and I knew he was thinking, 'That means 'yes' when Daddy says it.' "Okay if I take a shower?" Lyle asked. "Rascal made such a mess of me. Oh, and I'll pay to have this stuff shampooed." "Don't bother, Ryan's going to do it. Isn't that right?" I asked giving Ryan a no-nonsense glare. Ryan and I got on our hands and knees and used the extra towels to wipe up the worst of the lube while Lyle showered. "I'll rent a steam cleaner next Saturday and you can shampoo this and the chair." Just about then, the camcorder clunked and began rewinding. I shut it off and stashed it, still on its tripod, in the broom closet in the kitchen. "Out of sight, out of mind," I whispered conspiratorially. "You think about ME when I'm not around, don't you?" Ryan asked. "You're never out of my mind," I said, ruffling his hair. Half the times they were happy thoughts, the rest of the time, I worried about what I was getting myself into with him. About then, we heard the shower turn off. Lyle walked down the hall, drying his hair, apparently no longer self-conscious about being naked. I said, "I'll get you some clothes to get home in." "He's got clothes," Ryan said. "Your dad is not some GI Joe action figure you can dress up in Barbie's doll clothes. He's your father and deserves respect." "I was just having fun with him." "Fun is something 'everyone' enjoys. If even one person feels degradation, fear or anger ... anything other than joy from the experience, it ceases to be fun and becomes harassment, bullying or possibly even torture. Is it fun when your classmates make fun of how big your dick is?" "No." "Would it be fun if your car broke down on the way home and when your dad got out to fix it, he was whistled at by construction crew workmen?" "No, I guess not," Ryan said, smiling at the mental image I'd created. "You mean, it would be funny to you but humiliating to him?" "Yeah, I guess so," Ryan said contritely. "Is there something you want to say to your dad?" "I'm sorry, Daddy. It's just ... sometimes I don't think things all the way through. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I love you more than anything." Then tears fell like rain during the Great Flood and Ryan wrapped his arms around his daddy's waist. "I promise, I'll never do anything like this again. Please don't be mad at me. Please, Daddy." My heart ached and my gut felt like it wanted to puke because I could feel how miserable I had made Ryan feel. I knew it was something Lyle could never bring himself to do but I knew, too, that Ryan somehow had to be brought under control. Lyle clutched Ryan's back with his left arm and, even though we were all naked, he extended his right arm out to me. I moved toward Lyle until he was one-arm hugging me and he had his face buried in the crook of my neck. A softly whispered, "Thanks,"--no more than a rush of air--escaped Lyle's lips before I felt his tears moisten my bare shoulder. I wrapped my left arm around Lyle and my right arm around Ryan, overlapping Lyle's arm. We bonded at that moment like an unspoken declaration of indestructible brotherhood. For the first time since meeting Ryan, I felt like I truly was an uncle to him. "Maybe, between the two of us, we can make a man out of this little rascal after all." I said. "So, Ryan," Lyle said. "How does it feel to have two daddies?" I blushed as Ryan looked up at both of us with that impish smile he gets when he knows he's gotten something he's wanted. We broke the embrace and I had Lyle put on a pair of my cutoff sweatpants and his T shirt. He looked halfway presentable. I stood back, arms folded--and still naked by the way--to evaluate his appearance but frowned. "What?" he asked. Turning to Ryan, I asked, "Okay if I make a slight alteration to your 'designer' T?" "Sure. If you mess this one up, Daddy can always buy another one." "If you don't think my alterations make your dad look even better, then I'LL buy him a new one." Grabbing the kitchen sheers, I cut the sleeve up from the cuff to the shoulder seam, then ripped the sleeve off, following the seam line. I repeated the procedure on the other sleeve to create a homemade muscle T. My dick chubbed up to over halfway hard just touching Lyle's beefy biceps ... but I didn't care. I wanted Lyle to get used to seeing Ryan and me naked ... and hard. "Wow!" Ryan yelped. "You're hotter'n ever, now, Daddy. Go take a look." We followed Lyle to the bathroom mirror. I saw in his reflection a sense of pride in how the modified T accented all the hard work he'd put into his weight training. "You look good enough to eat," I said. "Don't YOU start," Lyle warned with a chuckle. "I've already got my hands full with Ryan." "You will if you grab this," Ryan said, waving his cock at his dad. "I'll pick you up later." Lyle said. "I might be able to still get some work done today, if I hurry." Ryan and I walked Lyle to the door. "Thanks for the makeover," Lyle said sincerely. "At least now I won't get whistled at on the way home." "I wouldn't go so far as to say that, but if you do, it'll be for the right reason--because you're hot, not because you look like a flaming princess." "I love you, Daddy," Ryan said, reaching up to give his father a hug. "I love you, too, son. It's just that it can't be the same way you love me." "I know that, Daddy, but it doesn't mean I have to stop loving you that special way I do." "No, I guess not." "I hope you'll understand if we don't wave goodbye out in the hall," I said. Looking at both of our dangling cocks, Lyle said, "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't" He smiled, opened the door and got into the hall before turning back. "I can pick up the video when I pick up Rascal." Ryan smiled when his dad called him by the pet name I'd given him. "Would it be easier for you if I drop him off?" I asked. "No ... but, since you offered, if I'm running late, I can call you and you can take him home. How's that?" "Fine, we'll be right here. After all, I can't seem to find a thing to wear." "Wear me!" Ryan said as his father headed down the hall and I closed the door. "Which hole, you little rascal?" I asked lifting him up into my arms. Ryan wrapped his legs around my waist like he does and I gripped his ass cheeks. "Both," he said. "That's gettin' a little old ... don'cha think?" "Okay," Ryan said in that off-handed way he says things that tells everyone he's open to anything and everything--without question. "Whatcha got in mind?" To be continued. Thanks for coming back for more. Also, thanks to all those who emailed me with their comments. If you liked this story, please consider checking out stories written by my friends at www.a2zestful.com. They are well-written, edited for grammar and punctuation and include military, voyeuristic, adult/youth, and tales of the paranormal, to mention a few. Comments can be sent to me at dickhickey@a2zestful.com or to my editor at zestful@myexcel.com.