Date: Sun, 19 Apr 2015 03:27:47 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: Robert's Education (Revised)

Robert's Education

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used without his
express permission. Private persons and no others are given permission to
have one (1) electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this work. Nifty
Erotic Stories ArchiveTM is given permission to archive this work.

All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of
fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various ages and
conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of legal
age or mindset or location, go no further but remove this material from
your possession forthwith.

If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story.  I'd
really like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative
comments. I'd really like to hear from YOU so I'll have some idea how I'm
doing and what it is you like to read. Thanks.

I used two returns between paragraphs to simplify formatting for you.
This is a hyphen -. This is an en-dash --. This is an em-dash ---. Other
high-ascii characters that PC's can't understand have been stripped.

Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the
only possible solution and that sexual dimorphism is Mother Nature's
excuse for being kinky.

Enjoy!

Jon




Robert's Education

A story by Jon Hold

jonhold@earthlink.net

Copyright 1999, 2008, 2015 by the author

A friend and I were just talking and the topic 'sex and the handicapped'
came up. It reminded me of this story, and I'd like to share it with you.
I'm going to tell it in the first person even though it actually happened
to a friend of mine. I'll elaborate on some parts, to make a good story
of it, but the essentials are as they were told to me, by both of the
people most involved.

One

I helped work my way through college as a licensed massage therapist. The
job paid very well as I worked only on doctor's referrals, and virtually
all of my clients were either very well off or actually wealthy. One of
the doctors that I had a particularly good relationship with called me on
the phone one evening and told me that he had a particularly difficult
patient that he hoped I would try to help. He explained that the client
was an 18 year old boy who was not only severely spastic, but was
undergoing a very difficult late growth spurt. I agreed to interview the
client and see if a therapeutic relationship was possible.

The address the doctor had given me ended up being in the more exclusive
area of La Jolla. A beautiful estate with ample grounds separating it
from the other residences in the area rested on the upper ridge. The gate
guard had my name on a list. I parked my old station wagon out front and
was let into the house by a uniformed maid. She led me through several
long hallways to an enclosed sun porch and introduced me to Mrs. M. Well
dressed and immaculately made up, she looked me over and made me very
aware of my "uniform". My grey sweatsuit was very likely the first one to
ever enter her sunroom.

Mrs. M very quickly adjusted and put me at my ease while the maid brought
tea and some excellent munchies. Mrs. M asked me if I'd brought my
massage table and I explained that my first visit with a client was free
and was to evaluate their needs, discuss financial matters, and to
decide, mutually, if I were to accept, and be accepted by, the client.
Mrs. M became somewhat anxious and told me that, not only had the doctor
recommended me and the work I did very highly, but that a friend of hers
had told her to do whatever necessary to get me to work on her son. Her
friend was a client of mine who was not only a very wealthy lady with a
sometimes painful muscular disorder, but a very dear person who gloried
in "arranging" her friends lives, including mine whenever possible.

I explained to Mrs. M that her son was to be my client, and that
decisions about therapy and such would be made between he and I and that
I did not tolerate interference by the doctor, much less anyone else.
That I required complete privacy with my clients unless THEY chose
otherwise and that I would not discuss their case without their express
permission. Mrs. M just grinned and told me that the doctor had already
warned her of my fierce protectiveness towards my clients. She also told
me that she was aware of my fees and that I was to be her sons masseur
and that any arrangements between he and I were really none of her
business.

She took me to the wing of the house occupied by her son and introduced
us. She tried to interpret for us, but I told her that I was sure that we
would do okay and asked her to leave us alone. She kissed her son, which
seemed to embarrass him and told me that she'd be in the sun room when we
were done.

The boy didn't look eighteen to me. More like a fourteen year old. Maybe
fourteen. Very thin and underdeveloped with the hard, lean musculature
typical of spastics. I explained to him who I was and what I did and what
I thought I might be able to do for him. Then I asked him to tell me a
bit about himself and what he thought I might be able to do for him. He
became very agitated and only managed to make a few explosive sounds. I
told him that he was not the first spastic I'd worked with and was well
aware that he could speak only with difficulty. I also told him that I
had all afternoon so he could just relax and take his time. Then I just
leaned back in my chair and waited. He finally managed to tell me that he
was eighteen years old but that he'd just started puberty last year and
that his disorder and the sudden growth sometimes caused him extreme pain
and that he was hoping that I could help with that.

I asked him if he had any problems with being nude in front of me or with
me handling his naked body. He blushed but said that he'd been naked in
front of lots of people and that it didn't bother him. I didn't believe
him, especially since he was going through puberty -- and so late, but I
let it pass and asked him if he minded seeing me naked. He turned really
red and had a LOT of trouble talking. He finally managed to tell me that
he had never seen another person naked. I asked him if he wanted to see
me naked and I thought his face was going to catch on fire, he turned so
red.

I explained to Robert what I thought I could do for him and what I would
expect from him in return. I also told him that once he made a
commitment, that I would NOT let him back out of it until he reached the
stated goals. I wrote my phone number down and gave it to him and told
him to think it over. If he agreed with everything we had talked about,
HE was to call me on the telephone. Not his mother or one of the staff,
but him personally.

Four days later the doctor called me and asked me what had happened. The
boy was making everyone's life miserable. More spastic than he'd ever
been. Refusing to eat. Refusing to let people change his clothes.
Refusing to talk. Sulking. Just being generally hateful and mean. I told
the doctor that I had dumped the entire responsibility for hiring me into
his lap and made him responsible for contacting me personally. The doctor
laughed and said that his adolescent patient had, for the first time in
his life, been made responsible for himself and obviously was not
handling it very well. I said, "Tough shit, it's sink or swim time." The
next day Robert called me and told me I was hired. I told him that I
wasn't sure I wanted to work with a spoiled brat and would have to think
it over. Then I hung up on him.

The next day a letter was hand delivered to my house. The block lettering
was crude and shaky, and looked like it had taken a lot of work to
complete. Robert explained that he was scared, but that he really wanted
me to try and help him. I called him on the phone and told him that I
would be out Saturday and that we would spend the entire day doing
evaluations and getting to know each other. We had a great day that
included me throwing Robert into my station wagon and taking him to the
local A&W for lunch. He managed to get the greater part of a Papa burger
and a root beer float all over himself, but insisted he was having a
wonderful time. One of the waitresses, a good looking blond teeny-bopper,
skated over and helped me clean most of the mess off of Robert, and told
him she thought he was cute and kissed his cheek just before she left. I
teased him all the way home about the tentpole and wet spot in his pants
and his new girlfriend. All he could do was stutter and look
embarrassed-proud-scared.

I pulled the wheelchair out of the back of the station wagon when we got
to his house and belted him in. Then I threw a folded blanket in his lap
in case we ran into anyone because his pants really were grossly
distorted by the turmoil inside them and the wet spot had spread until it
was totally obvious. I wheeled him into his bathroom and told him I was
going to give him a bath. He tried to keep me from stripping him, saying
that his staff could give him a bath later. I just told him that it was
no big thing, that I'd seen hardons before and would probably see them
again.

I lied. It was a big thing. A major big thing. We're talking at least ten
inches of thick, gnarly, angry looking cockmeat. His balls were small and
still developing inside of their hairless sack, and there was just a
small cloud of wispy fur perched above the wide base of the rampant
flesh, but there was no question that Robert was endowed with some major
COCK! I complemented him on his good fortune and asked if he minded if I
joined him in the tub. He just got embarrassed, but avidly watched as I
stripped naked.

I unbuckled Robert and lifted him into my arms. When I stepped over the
edge of the big tub his cock thumped against my chest and rubbed against
my smooth skin. Robert almost immediately started spraying me with huge
gouts of clotted cum all over my chest and up my throat and all over my
chin. Even while he was spewing all over me he looked like he wanted to
die of embarrassment. I just started laughing.

"Jesus Christ, man. Did she get you that horny?"

Robert just got wide-eyed and blushed even redder.

"You did like her, didn't you!"

Robert clenched up real tight and managed, through all his embarrassment,
to nod "Yes".

I laughed and sat down in the deep part of the big tub with Robert in my
lap, holding his head out of the water. The tub was sort of like the
fiberglass Jacuzzi's they make today, but made of tile. "I'll bet you'd
like to get this thing," and I pointed at his erection, "into her tight
little snatch."

Robert just got sort of a blank look of confusion on his face and I
looked at him and said, "You trying to tell me you don't know the word
snatch?" When it became apparent that he DIDN'T know what I was saying, I
continued, "You know, snatch, cunt, wormhole, slot, clam, dickeater...
her pussy, man!" It was apparent that Robert had no clue what the hell I
was talking about.

"Didn't your mother or the doctor or someone tell you about the facts of
life?" I asked.

Robert looked totally confused and shook his head, "No."

"Jesus, God Almighty, fucking Christ!" I stormed. "You mean no one has
told you what your dick is for? Why it gets hard and you get horny and
shoot your juice?"

I patiently held Robert in the warm water while he told me that not only
had no one told him the facts of life, but that he had figured out that
his maturing body and emotions and feelings were additional punishment
for being a bad person. I made up my mind to do some severe ass-kicking
as soon as I was done with Robert, but managed to get my anger under
control.

We sat in that tub, heating it up with fresh water from time to time, as
I explained to Robert about his body and the bodies of women. About what
puberty meant and what his cock was for.  Cumming in his pants at lunch
was the first time he was aware of that he'd cum, spraying me the second.
I drained the water in the tub until the built in up-curved bench held
Robert comfortably and securely and then used some soap and my hands to
show him what masturbation was all about and just exactly how good it
could feel. The second time around I showed him how he could get his
hands between his thin, bent upwards legs with his forearms trapping his
amply foreskinned cock between them. From there it was pretty easy for
him to figure out how to masturbate himself. He and I both laughed hugely
when he came so hard, so totally, that he flipped himself off the bench
into the deep water and swallowed about half the tub full. When he
managed to quit coughing up water and laughing, I complemented him
lavishly on how much cum he could spew and asked him if he thought he
could ask questions now instead of just feeling sorry for himself.

I was patient as Robert worked on saying that he hoped I would continue
to teach him and asked me to tell him whenever I thought he was acting
stupid. I told him not to worry about it, that I'd be more than happy to
kick his ass whenever he got out of line. He laughed uproariously as I
dried the both of us off. He said he was really tired so I carried him
into bed and just stuck a small foam pillow between his knees to keep him
from causing himself pressure sores. He asked me if I wasn't going to
dress him in his pajamas. I asked him what he was going to do if he woke
up horny. Did he think he could jack off while wearing pajamas. He got a
huge grin on his face and said, very clearly, "I'm NEVER wearing those
FUCKING pajama's again!"

We both laughed at that, and his first use of a curse word (I wouldn't
learn until later that was something he was learning from me, that I
didn't know he was learning from me, and by the time I did find out, it
was way, way too late to do anything about it! People often make the
mistake of thinking that spastic people are all retarded. If you are one
of them, then please take this opportunity to slap yourself silly.
Spastic people have just as much chance of being bright as you or me or
anyone else -- especially if anyone gives them a chance to be bright.
Anyway...) and the very first decision he had made for himself. And he
never did wear pajama's again, as far as I know.

I got out some light oil and massaged Robert and softly hummed some songs
to him until he was soundly asleep. I noticed, right from the beginning
of the massage how much less tense his muscles were and how much more
relaxed he seemed to be. I don't think it was all from the sexual release
either. He seemed like he was more at peace with himself.

I quietly left his room and asked one of the staff to use a phone. I
called the Dr.'s office and asked him what he was doing. He said that he
was just leaving for the day and I asked him if he could stop of at Mrs.
M's house for a few minutes. He said he would and I asked the maid to
show me to the sun room and to tell Mrs. M that I would be waiting there
for her. She showed up in less that two minutes and asked how her son
was. She said that she had never heard him laugh like that before and
wanted to know what happened. I told her that the Doctor would be there
soon and that I would explain everything then. We sat there in those
beautiful surroundings together, her wondering and me trying to calm
myself and to keep my anger from showing.

When the Doctor was shown into the room by the butler I asked him have a
seat and stood in front of the two of them. In a totally calm, reasonable
voice I asked, "Did you two decide to torture that child together, or did
you each choose to abuse him all on your own?"

I let the shock of my statement/question sink in and then let the
sputtering and denial get underway before I let myself blow up, telling
them what I thought of two "responsible" adults that would keep a child
so protected and ignorant that he thought his developing sexuality was a
punishment for being a bad person. I flashed through my built-up anger,
dumping it messily on their heads until the doctor and I were almost in
tears and Mrs. M was about to go from tears to hysterics. We all managed
to calm down a little and sat down around a glass topped table and I told
them what my day with Robert had been like. I told them everything,
including about me masturbating Robert and then teaching him how to
masturbate himself. All his mother had to say was, "Well, if he's half as
horny as his father was, I'd better buy some more sheets for his bed."
The doctor and Mrs. M realized that they had both relied on the other to
explain the facts of life to Robert and that both of them had avoided
trying to explain to the boy something they were both sure he wouldn't be
able to experience.

I looked at the doctor and asked him, "You're trying to tell me that,
having seen the size of Robert's equipment, that in going through medical
school and your residency, that you didn't meet even one doctor or nurse,
of either sex, who would have sex with him based solely on his possession
of a ten inch cock?"

Dr. D grimaced. "As a matter of fact, I think I could work you up quite a
lengthy list, at least from what they said."

I looked at Mrs. M. "And, of course, none of the girls in your finishing
school or college sorority would have anything to do with a 'poor, dear
spastic' just because he had a long, fat piece of manhood?"

"Well," she replied, "he's not as large as his father was, at least not
yet, but there were probably a few girls who might not object to a man
with such equipment."

She said that with such a devilish grin on her face that I began to
misdoubt that she was quite as hoity-toity as advertised. In our long
relationship to come, she managed to convince me that not only was she a
high-class lady, but a totally dedicated mother and a woman quite capable
of attending a beer-bust at the beach and stripping naked to join
everyone in a midnight bout of skinny-dipping -- from which she led two
college buddies of mine off behind the proverbial bush from which they
emerged as considerably diminished examples of virile manhood. She
emerged from behind the same bush seconds later asking the girls there if
there weren't any real men available. I thought Robert was going to die
of embarrassment, but I figured that it was healthy for a teenager to be
embarrassed about his parents behavior from time to time. In any case,
Robert survived and his mother was escorted off into the darkness by a
considerably more mature professor type, not to be seen again until she
finally appeared at the manse with a silly grin on her face, whereupon I
had a great deal of explaining to do to convince Robert that not only did
his mother have as much sex drive as he did, but just as much right to
try and satisfy it however she chose and that it was no more his business
than his sex life was hers -- or did he want me to tell her about the
pool boy? But, I get ahead of myself.

Once everything settled down, I explained to Mrs. M that I had finals in
the coming week and that between studying and test taking I would not
have time for any of my clients, but that I would reserve the following
Saturday for Robert again, and then he and I could decide on a regular
schedule. I wrote Robert a note, explaining my absence for the next week
and telling him to give me a call if he needed to and to please keep
practicing the exercise I'd taught him. I thought I was being at least
half-way slick, but Robert told me that his mother brought him the note
herself and told him that she approved of what I was teaching him and to
not worry about the mess because she was going to buy a lot of extra
sheets for his bed.

Doctor D and I left at the same time and stood out by the car and
discussed some of Robert's medical and emotional needs and Dr. D
apologized for forgetting to be human with his patient. I told him that
it wasn't me he owed an apology to, but Robert. He said that he knew
that, and would take care of it the next time he saw Robert, but thought
that I deserved some thanks for waking him up. We shook hands and, as we
always did after fighting about a patient, felt much better about each
other.

Robert did call me on Friday morning to make sure I'd be coming on
Saturday. I told him I'd be there bright and early and that he should be
up and dressed because I had some surprises for him. He let out that
peculiar laugh of his and said that I didn't know the half of it. I asked
him what he meant, but he just started laughing and couldn't talk any
more. I threatened to tickle him until he turned purple the next time I
saw him and then reminded him to get a good nights sleep.

I rang the doorbell at Robert's house at 8 AM on Saturday morning and was
shown directly to his room, the day maid telling me that breakfast would
be served at Nine. Robert was up, dressed and in his wheelchair waiting
for me when I knocked on the door and came in. He grinned and did his
best imitation of a puppy welcoming his favorite person. I shook his hand
and asked him how his week had been. He grinned even wider and said,
"Great!", then pointed to his bed and said, "Look!" I went over and
lifted the rumpled sheets and saw three huge spots on the lower sheet
that could only be cum -- two dried up and one still fresh and wet. I
shook my head. "Boy! -- you keep that up and you're going to wear your
dick off!"

He laughed and pointed at my crotch, "Only you circumcised boys have to
worry about that. I've got a foreskin and can do mine all I want." He
started laughing uproariously after he'd managed to get all that out and
I grabbed him by the neck and pretended to choke him. "I've created a
damn monster!" I exclaimed.

Robert reached up and touched me as gently as he could over the bulge in
my Wranglers. "Yeah. But I'm not a horny monster any more!"

We both laughed loudly in agreement and I patted Robert's bulge and said
that I was glad that he'd learned how to "handle his thang". Robert
seemed to think that was hugely funny and barely managed to get himself
under control enough to call the butler and tell him that he needed to go
to the bathroom.

I wheeled Robert into the bathroom and got him on the pot. I noticed that
his shank hung down into the water and held it up for him so that he
didn't piss and shit on himself. "Man, that must be a pain in the ass,
having to have someone hold you every time you take a leak."

Robert just flushed bright red and tried to turn his face away.

"What?"

Robert didn't even try to talk, just shook his head "No."

With a deep sigh I picked Robert up and sat down on the commode myself. I
hooked his rigidly bent arms, elbows first, under one leg and laid him
across my lap. Ten swats later I asked him, in a perfectly calm voice,
"You ready to talk, or would you like a few more to get you started?"

There was a definite denial in his headshake and I assumed that it meant
he didn't want any more swats. I put him back on the pot and sat in his
wheelchair, holding his crank out of the water. There was something
beyond embarrassment holding the boy back. At the best of times it was
very difficult to understand what he was saying, though it got easier
with practice. As he tried to explain to me, his talking was so bad that
I knew that he was under exceptionally great stress. He did manage to say
that since his dick started getting so big, no one but me had ever
bothered to help him stay clean.

"You mean the butler just let you soil yourself."

Robert clammed up. He wasn't embarrassed, he was terrified!

"Robert. I want the truth. Did the butler wash your dick when you were
done?" Robert just became more agitated, more terrified. "Did he wipe
your ass?"

The boy was about to freak. Something was tremendously wrong. I slowly,
carefully lifted his chin until he was able to release his muscular
tension enough to look at me. His eyes were filled with tears. "Robert.
Did that man threaten to hurt you if you told anyone?"

He burst out in tears and became quite hysterical. I finally got him
calmed down and cleaned up and put him in bed. "Did the maid ever hurt or
threaten you?"

Robert shook his head "No" so I rang and the maid came in.

"Grace. Would you please stay with Robert until I come back? He's a
little excited and needs someone to stay with him while he rests."

"Of course," Grace said, smiling at Robert and pushing the hair back out
of his eyes, "Robert's never any trouble."

"Thanks, Grace. This shouldn't take very long, but please don't leave
Robert alone." With that admonition, I left the room.

The butler was in the kitchen, polishing silver. "Excuse me. Could you
come outside with me for a minute please."

"Why, of course, Sir." the butler said, starting to put his coat on.

"You don't need to put your coat on."

 "Yes, Sir. But Madam prefers that we dress properly outside of the
kitchen or our quarters."

I waited for him to finish dressing and then led the way out to the
grassy area between the kitchen and garage.

"I understand that you enjoy tormenting that boy by making him soil
himself and then refusing to clean him up. Do you like pulling the wings
off of flies as well?" He started to swell up in indignation, but I went
right on. "He also tells me that you threatened to beat him up if he ever
told anyone. That true?"

Blustering, giving the lie to his every word, the butler protested that
he'd never done any such thing and besides the dummy didn't have enough
brains to know what he was talking about. I just shook my head.

"There's just one thing..." I said.

"And what might that be, Sir."

And I beat the crap out of him --- literally. When I was totally
exhausted, and becoming afraid that I might do him a permanent injury, I
backed off and let go so he could fall to the ground. I turned and
started to leave but turned back. There's just one other thing." I said.

Groggily, holding his bleeding mouth and nose, he looked up at me.

"Don't you ever go near that boy again!" and I kicked him as hard as I
could between the legs. He screamed like a guinea pig caught by a large
and hungry cat. Most satisfying.

I went back into the kitchen and leaned on the sink, running cold water
over my right hand.

"May I ask what that was all about?" Mrs. M asked coldly from behind me.

I turned to face her and told her exactly what it was about.

She turned pale white, obviously in shock. She started to move and I knew
she was headed for her son.

"Don't you dare embarrass Robert any more than he already is. I don't
know if he could handle knowing that you knew what has been happening to
him."

She froze, and then proved her great presence of mind, even under extreme
distress. Two steps took her to the kitchen door. There was a plaque
beside the door with two buttons. She pushed both buttons at the same
time. In less than a minute several cars full of security men pulled up
and spread to surround the place and I could hear police sirens closing
in. Obviously, her panic alarm got results in a big way.

Several minutes later we were outside near the butler, who was being
supported by two uniformed policemen. Mrs. M was talking to a grey-haired
man in a suit. "Inspector. This man has tormented and abused my
handicapped son. He also threatened the boy with grievous bodily harm
should he ever tell anyone what the pervert was doing to him. I want him
arrested and punished. Do you understand!"

The police inspector looked at the man and then at my obviously swollen
knuckles. Then back to Mrs. M. "Ma'am. It's too bad he had this accident.
But I assure you that as soon as he is able he'll be having a little talk
with Judge Brown. And, knowing Judge Brown, I doubt that you'll ever see
this sick-o ever again."

"Thank you Inspector. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to my son."

Good-bye's were brief and the uniforms drug the butler off between them
without any regard for his somewhat tender state. I turned and followed
Mrs. M back into the house, making no attempt to keep her from being with
her son. Some of you may think that I should have tried to get between
that upset woman and her son. Shame on you. My momma didn't raise any
fools!


Chapter 2


It was two weeks before I saw Robert again. Robert was getting some
fairly intense medical intervention, school was a real drag and the
butler decided to try and press charges. Everything seemed to have
quieted down pretty well by the time I showed up to spend a Saturday with
Robert.

Grace, the maid, saw me in the hallway and stopped me by giving me a kiss
on the cheek.

"Well, thank you. But what was that for?"

"I knew that Rolf was doing something to that boy, but could never get
him to tell me what was going on. Every morning, when I go in to get
Master Robert up, my first question is, 'Have you made a mess of your bed
again!?' He laughs. He laughs and moves around in happiness. When I lift
the covers and start complaining about the huge wet spots he's made, he
laughs so hard I think he's going to hurt himself somehow. If I say
anything about having to get his mother to buy even more sheets, you can
hear him all over the house. He is so proud of his ability to masturbate.
You just can't believe how much joy you've brought into that boy's life!"

She had tears running out her eyes, and I held her in my arms and thanked
her for being so good with Robert. "You have boys of your own?"

She nodded, "Four. Still in High School."

"They good boys?" She nodded, proudly. I grinned right at her, "I wonder
why!"

We both laughed and went in to see Robert.

Five splotches on his sheets! "Jeeze, boy! You're going to slick that bed
up and slide right out of there onto the floor!" I exclaimed.

While he was laughing, crowing in pride, I took off my grey sweats and
stood there naked in front of Grace, she and I letting him see that
nudity was okay. I picked him up and carried him off to the bathroom.
When he was done using the toilet, I cleaned him and then carried him
into the tub that Grace had drawn for us. We played in the hot water and
I started working on Robert's tight muscles. I explained to him what I
was going to try to do; loosen up some of the long muscles, reduce his
pain, increase his endurance, teach him how to care for himself and, just
generally, see how far we could go.

This became a three-day-a-week event. Robert would show me is cum
production for the evening. I'd shave him, hold him on the toilet, take a
bath with him, both to clean him and to start our days exercise regimen.

I liked to work outside, so Robert had to get used to being naked in
front of others and to having the sun shine in places where the sun don't
normally shine. He got sunburned a few times, but I didn't see that as an
experience that a growing teenager shouldn't have. We spent some time in
the pool and Robert eventually learned to "swim" after a fashion. He had
to wear float supports because his hard body instantly sank to the bottom
given half a chance. But we finally found the exact right combination of
foam and air supports and he was very comfortable floating/paddling
around on his own.

I had him on a light mat on the floor of the gazebo one day, stretching
some muscles and using acupuncture to release some of the tension and
keep the pain down where it could be handled reasonably. Juan, the son of
one of the maids, came running up and said that I had a phone call. I'd
seen Juan around, he was fourteen and had been hired to help the gardner
and keep the pool clean on weekends and school vacations. He was a
cheerful little extrovert, full of energy and good will for everyone. I
asked him if he'd mind staying with Robert until I returned. The boy
blushed and sort of stammered and said that he would be very proud to be
with Senõr Robert.

I came back from Robert's wing instead of from the main house. I'd
forgotten some special oil I'd brought and wanted to try. I saw the boys
on the floor of the gazebo together and made a point of being quiet in my
approach. It seems as though Juan had some special skill in fellatio and
was demonstrating some of his particular skills to Robert.  Robert, for
his part, knew nothing of blow jobs, but was obviously an avid
participant and student in the demonstration and was eagerly learning his part in the
process. He was so involved, in fact, that he didn't even notice my
approach. I came up behind the equally busy Juan and was able to lay down
across his back before he noticed me. I lay on his back and nibbled his
ear.


"Can you swallow that whole thing?" I challenged.


Straining to watch me, eye-to-eye, as I mounted him, Juan struggled with
the monster cock in his mouth, feeling the challenge just as he felt me
entering him. Robert noticed what I was doing finally and started to
laugh as he eagerly fucked Juan's throat. Caught between us, Juan made no
attempt to escape. instead he worked his ass down over my fuck-hungry
cock and did everything he could to help Senõr Robert throat fuck him.
Robert, for his part, was almost completely out of control, but fucking
like a champion none-the-less.


Screaming with his whole body, Little Juan started cumming all over the
place, his wild contractions causing him to bury his face in Robert's
sweat-darkened pubes. Robert just couldn't handle that and started
dumping his compete load down Juan's throat. Not to be a party pooper, I
joined in and gave up a healthy, deep load for Juan's butt to suck up.


And that was how the life-long relationship between Juan and Robert
began. Right from the start, Juan was fascinated by Robert and totally
devoted to him once they got to know each other. For his part Robert
thought Juan was the greatest thing since buttered toast. The boys
quickly became devoted to each other.

Robert called his mother in one day and firmly announced that he had
hired Juan and that he would no longer be available for household duties.
Mrs. M asked him if he knew what people who did such things were called
and he quite calmly replied, "They call them Pirates, Mother. And don't
try to tell me you wouldn't steal Mrs. Sharps butler if you thought you
could get away with it!"

Staff put a cot in Robert's room but soon removed it since it was never
used. The maids noted that the sheets no longer needed changing every day
and commented on how very happy both boys seemed to be.

I thoughtlessly walked in one day only to be confronted by Juan totally
trapped within a clasping cage of Robert's spastic limbs. Escape was
further complicated by the ten-inch spike jammed up his ass. I just
smiled and said, "DAMN! You guys mind if I watch. Purely for scientific
reasons, of course!"

That got a laugh from both boys, but I was quickly reassured that I was
welcome anytime. To watch or play or whatever I wanted. Robert told me
that Juan really loved the way I'd fucked him and wanted me to do it
again. Juan blushed and got all shy, but readily admitted that he'd
really like some more of what I'd pounded up his ass --- anytime!

I laughed and settled in to watch my two favorite boys at play.

---
How many a dispute could have been deflated into a single paragraph if
the disputants had dared to define their terms.

          --Aristotle (384-322 BCE)

-----
Common sense is wisdom with its sleeves rolled up.
     --- Kyle Farnsworth