From: Boy-writer <bstory@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: Story "Tempting the Uncle" M/b/b cons.
Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 09:59:14 -0800
Organization: The Bear's Den

As always the usual  warnings and disclaimers apply to this story which
contains graphic nudity
and sexual activity between an adult male and minor males. If this type
of story is illegal to
possess a copy of, or if you are offended by this type of material or
you are under the legal age
in your locale, close this file IMEDIATELY!  Do not download or read.

   I am not the author of this story, a friend of mine who wishes to
remain anonomous sent it to
me to read and post in this newsgroup.  Happy reading!

Tempting the Babysitter
-----------------------

12-year old Lance looked into 11-year-old Charlie's eyes.  He spoke
quietly
so he would not be heard by the man down the hall.  "I heard my mom and
dad
before they left.  Mom didn't want Uncle Tom to sit for us this weekend.
You know why?"

"Why?" Charlie asked, mildly bored, mildly interested.

"She says he's 'too old to be a bachelor.'  Know what that means?" Lance
asked excitedly.

"No, what?"

"He's *gay*, that's what.  Mom thinks Uncle Tom is gay, and I bet he is,
too."

Charlie was taken aback.  "You mean he ... she didn't want him to be
with
you because he ...."

"... because he likes boys," Lance said, grinning ear to ear, with an
exaggerated lisp, flipping his wrist.

Charlie got the joke.  "Uncle Tom is a fag ...," he started, then
started
laughing - too loud.  Lance went up to him quickly and put his hand over
Charlie's mouth.

"Shhhh ... he'll hear you," Lance said in an urgent whisper.  Charlie
shut
up.  Lance went on.  "He thinks he's so cool, that nobody knows.  Why
don't
we find out how cool he is?"

"How?" Charlie asked.  His new friend was only a year older, but Charlie
was
still amazed at the things Lance thought of.  This was their first
sleepover.  Lance's great-grandmother had finally died after being left
unable to speak by a stroke before he was born.  He never knew her and
didn't care about her - but his parents were out of town for the
funeral,
and he was going to have some fun.

"What do you mean, how?"  He saw that Charlie didn't understand. 
Charlie
never seemed to understand anything, but he looked up to Lance like
Lance
was a god, and the older boy liked that.  Charlie wasn't the first
younger
friend he'd had - for the same reason.  "Look, he thinks he's cool, that
nobody knows he's gay.  So why don't we give him something to look at?
Let's see how cool he is."  Charlie still had a blank expression, god
the
kid was slow.  "Why do you think he volunteered so fast to babysit me? 
He
likes to look at boys' butts."

Charlie's eyes opened wide.  "He wants to look at *our* butts?"

"Right," Lance said, "but he acts like it's nothing.  I bet we can get
him
so hot he'll come in his pants.  He'll probably give us money to take
our
clothes off - or beer, or women, or anything."

"Wow," Charlie said.  Neither boy knew anything about women or had drunk
a
beer, but the money sounded good.  "How much money?"

"Who knows?  Maybe 10, maybe even 20 dollars."  To Lance, that seemed
like a
lot of money; his parents were quite poor, as were Charlie's, and they
got
by in a small town on $2-3 a week allowance.

"Let's do it," said Charlie, happy to be in on another of his friend's
schemes.  They shook on it.

The boys came back into the living room after a long absence.  Tom
didn't
think anything of it; perhaps they were playing video games in Lance's
room.
Charlie seemed to be swinging his hips, and both boys were looking at
him as
they came into the room, but he didn't know kids very well and didn't
think
much of it.  He turned back to the old Western on AMC.

"It's 8 o'clock," Lance said, as if that should mean something.  His
parents
hadn't said anything about 8'clock.

Tom was a bit taken aback.  "Is something important supposed to happen
at 8
o'clock?" he asked, trying to make it seem like a joke.

Lance glowered at him, then smirked.  "We're supposed to take our
baths."

"Oh, well, whatever you normally do," Tom said nonchalantly.  In fact,
Lance
had been right about Tom.  He did have urges, but he kept them well in
check.  Nevertheless, the thought of two naked boys, *these* two,
started to
arouse him.  He kept it under control.  Tom turned back to his movie.

Lance was angry, but he kept that to himself too.  He and Charlie walked
out
of the room.  Soon Tom heard water running in the upstairs bathroom. 
The
door was evidently open.

"Tom!" Lance's voice rang out.  "Tom!"

Tom opened his mouth to shout an answer, then decided that something
might
be wrong and he should go up.  The bathroom door was open, and Lance was
sitting in the tub alone, and he had used bubble bath, so little could
be
seen except for the boy's marvellous chest.  "I can't reach my back," he
said, "can you wash it for me?" He held out the soap.

Tom seemed to hesitate, so Lance lied:  "Mom does it when she's here."
Still the man hesitated.  "Please?" the boy said.

Tom was starting to get a hard on, and that *must not* happen.  Sure, he
liked looking at the kid, but that was all he was going to do.  And he
didn't want to have to explain anything *down there*.  But the kid was
looking at him, and he was getting harder and harder, looking at the
soft
shoulders, the hairless knees sticking up out of the water, the smooth
face
....  This had to stop, and there seemed to be only one way to stop it.
"OK," he said.

Tom took the soap from the boy's hand, got his hands wet, and worked up
a
lather.  He quickly soaped up Lance's back, trying to be clinical about
it.
"There," he said, trying to smile.

"Now rinse me off," said Lance, with what looked like, but could not be,
a
coy smile.

"Just slide down in the tub," Tom said, too gruffly he belatedly
thought,
and walked off.  He went back downstairs to watch his movie.  The bad
guys
were caught, as expected.  He tried to forget what he had just seen and
felt.

"Tom!" a voice rang out sometime later.  It wasn't Lance, so it had to
be
Charlie, though the younger boy had hardly said a word in Tom's presence
since he came over.  Once again the man trod up the stairs, craning his
neck
to see as the bad guys escaped during an Indian attack.

This time the door was closed.  "What do you want?" Tom shouted through
the
door.

"I need a towel," Charlie replied.

"Where are they?" the man shouted back.

"In the linen closet, I think," the boy answered.

The linen closet, where was that?  Tom looked around.  He found it down
the
hall and got out a big green towel.  He came back to the door.  "I'm
going
to open the door and put it on the counter, OK?" he asked.

"Don't come in, I'm naked," came the reply.  There seemed to be a
giggle.

"I'm just putting it here on the counter," Tom replied.  He opened the
door
a crack and did so.  He went back downstairs.

The Indians, who as usual couldn't shoot straight, had been routed, and
the
hero was kicking over corpses of braves.  One belonged to a boy of about
13
or 14.  The hero shook his head at the savagery of these people.  The
bad
guys had gotten away during the fight, however.

"Tom!" Lance called out again.  Jeez, I might as well give up on this
movie,
he thought, trying to pretend his irritation was due to the
interruptions.
He looked in the bathroom, but it was empty (though a mess).  "Tom!" the
boy
called again, and Tom realized it was coming from the boy's room.

The two boys were standing there in bath towels.  "We don't have any
pajamas," Lance said, with a serious look on his face.  Charlie covered
his
mouth.

"Well, what do you normally wear?" Tom said stupidly, trying to
concentrate
on the angelic faces so that his attention would not wander elsewhere.

"That's what I normally wear," Lance said.

"Didn't you bring any?" the man asked Charlie.

"I forgot mine, I was going to wear his," Charlie replied.

"Mom must have forgot to do laundry before she left," Lance said.

Tom rolled his eyes.  "Well, put some clean underwear on, then.  I'll
wash
clothes tomorrow."  He turned around and started to go back downstairs,
then
quickly turned and went into the bathroom.  He closed the door, then ran
cold water over his face.  He wasn't up to this job at all.  Tom picked
up
the towels on the floor and put them in the hamper, which was indeed
full.
He took a piss, swearing under his breath when his cock would not at
first
soften enough.  As he went back downstairs, he heard the boys talking in
hushed tones.  Charlie giggled.

The hero had sneaked up on the bad guys, who, sure enough, were
delivering a
box of rifles to the savages.  Tom settled back into the movie, trying
to
figure out what was going on.

The two boys came downstairs shortly.  Lance wore a plain white T-shirt
and
an old pair of briefs that were at least two sizes too small for him.
Charlie had on a red muscle shirt and a new pair of briefs that were too
big
for him and seemed to be constantly on the verge of falling off.  Lance
brought a blanket, which they spread on the floor, seeming to take
exceeding
care in getting the wrinkles out.

Tom was getting quite a show as the scantily-clad boys crawled around on
their hands and knees in front of him.  He watched in spite of himself.
Charlie looked over and caught him at it, then smiled and whispered to
Lance.  The older boy did not smile; he glanced at Tom and whispered
seriously to the younger boy.  Eventually the blanket was more-or-less
straight.  Lance laid on his stomach.  Charlie sat up on his heels, his
too-large briefs falling down in back and exposing a bit of crack.  The
phrase, "Smooth as a baby's butt," popped involuntarily into Tom's mind.
Charlie laid down on his stomach next to Lance, pulling up his shorts so
that they rode up into his crack.  The two boys seemed to take an
inordinate
amount of time to get settled, and Tom could not take his eyes off them.
Charlie in particular seemed to wiggle his butt more than was strictly
necessary.

Lance turned to Tom.  "Can I have a pillow?" he asked.  "Me too,"
Charlie
said.  Tom took a couch pillow and handed one to each boy.  Lance
glanced at
Tom's crotch, evidently noticing the growing bulge there, but said
nothing.
The boys put the pillows under their chins, again taking a long time to
get
situated.  Lance whispered to Charlie, who reached back and rearranged
his
shorts.

"Hey!  Do you guys want some popcorn?" Tom asked, trying to lighten the
mood, which had seemed to become uncomfortably cloudy.

"I'm not hungry," Lance replied.  "Me neither," Charlie said.

"Well, *I* am," Tom answered brightly and went off to the kitchen.  At
least, he hoped it was "brightly."  He had to get out of there.  As he
made
the popcorn, he mused.  Those kids seemed to be showing off for him, but
that couldn't be so.  He didn't know what to think.  His cock began to
go
down - keep it under control, guy, he said to himself.

Tom came back in carrying the bowl of popcorn and almost dropped it. 
The
boys had taken off their shirts, and Charlie was on top of Lance,
rubbing
his back.  As before, the younger boy's shorts were falling down in
back,
affording a glorious view.

Tom resumed his seat on the couch.  The movie had ended, of course, and
the
boys had evidently selected some 3-hanky TV movie (the TV Guide and
remote
were sitting in front of Lance).  He wondered at that, but shrugged it
off.
With some difficulty, Tom held out the popcorn to the boys, whose
motions
were reminiscent, not of an innocent backrub, but of another activity. 
"You
want some?" he asked.

Lance just smirked and shook his head.  He spread his legs a little
more.
"No, thanks," Charlie said, and giggled, continuing to rub Lance.

Tom tried to concentrate on the movie but found himself looking
repeatedly
at the show on the floor.  Lance caught him at it and looked directly at
the
man's crotch, smiling.  Tom realized he was hard as a rock.  He grabbed
the
blanket draped over the back of the sofa and hurriedly spread it over
himself, trying to appear nonchalant.  He looked back at the movie.

The movie the boys picked did not help take his mind off other matters. 
It
turned out to be an old TV movie about a boy who was dying of cancer. 
The
boy's parents cried a lot (the doctor even cried once), and half the
shots
seemed to show the kid in his short little hospital gown.  Every glance
at
the boy-actor's hairless legs seemed to draw Tom's eyes back to the show
on
the floor, which eventually ended with Charlie lying next to Lance, the
younger boy's arm across the older one's back.

"I'm cold," Charlie said suddenly.  "So am I," Lance said.  Tom was
about to
suggest that they fold the blanket they were lying on over themselves
when
they crawled under the blanket with him.  Each boy took one of the man's
arms and put it around his shoulders.  Tom tried unsuccessfully to
concentrate on the movie.

"You like us?" Lance asked with a smirk.

"Sure I do," Tom answered, smiling as he squeezed both boys.

Lance reached under the blanket and grabbed Tom's hardon through his
pants.
"Feels like you do," he said, grinning.  Tom did not know what to say;
he
was mortified and excited at the same time.

Charlie's hand joined Lance's on Tom's cock.  "Guess he likes boys,"
Charlie
said, giggling.  "Likes to look at boy's butts."  He laughed again.

"Guess so," Lance said, turning off the remote.  "You like looking at us
in
our underwear, don't you, Uncle Tom?"  The boy started moving his hand
slowly up and down, causing a stain of precum to spread slowly around
the
head of Tom's engorged cock.

"Would you like to see us without our underwear?" Charlie asked.

"Tell us," Lance said, "tell us what you want.  Do you want to see
Charlie's
butt?"

"Ummm," Tom uttered, unable to respond.

Lance undid Tom's belt and opened his pants.  The man jumped but
couldn't -
or didn't want to - stop him.  "Do you want to see Charlie's butt?  He
has a
cute one, don't you think?"

"Yes," the man replied, no longer able to think of consequences.

"What will you pay us?" Charlie asked.  Lance took his hand away from
Tom's
cock and looked at him expectantly.

"I, uh, twenty dollars," Tom stammered, staring at Lance.

"Twenty apiece, right?" Lance said.

"Yeah ..."

Lance threw back the blanket and stood up, as did Charlie.  Both boys
pulled
their shorts off.  Tom stared at the two gorgeous butts before him. 
They
looked over their shoulders at him.  Charlie shook his rear
suggestively.
Tom pulled his own briefs down and stroked his cock.  "What will you
give us
to turn around?"

"Ten dollars ... apiece."

Charlie turned around first.  He had a short little boy-dick, his
ball-sac
not descended yet.  Lance turned around to reveal a more well-developed
cut
dick and hanging balls.  Both boys were completely hairless.  Tom was
stroking in earnest.  He noticed that Lance was semi-hard himself.

"Charlie's up too late," Lance said, feeling his power.  "You better
carry
him up to bed; he looks tired."  He laughed.  Charlie looked at Lance
angrily.  "I'm going to settle up with Uncle Tom," he said to the
younger
boy, rubbing his fingers together in the gesture for "money."

Tom started to zip up his pants, then thought better of it and took them
off.  He pulled his boxers up, however.  He picked up Charlie, who
seemed to
be as light as a feather, feeling the hairless thigh and soft chest.
Charlie had gotten a little hardon.  Lance watched with interest.

Tom put Charlie in bed, tucked him in, and kissed his forehead.  To his
surprise, Charlie kissed him back, on the cheek.

Lance was waiting downstairs.  He had put the t-shirt and briefs back on
and
was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, a broad smile on his
face.
"That's sixty dollars," he said.

Tom took out his wallet, barely able to count out the money as he stared
at
the boy's gorgeous legs.  He handed the cash to Lance.  (Lucky it was a
Friday night - most nights he wouldn't have been carrying that much.)

Lance took the money and folded it up in his hand, wrapping his fist
around
it.  "You can have another look for another ten," he said.

"I don't have any more," Tom replied, almost truthfully.  In fact, it
was
his personal rule never to be without at least $20 in his pocket, and
the
additional ten would put him below the mark.  Twenty dollars was enough
to
get a cab if he was stranded or to buy whatever he might need on an
emergency or whimsical basis.  Not that Tom was poor; he was fairly
well-paid as an air traffic controller.  At any rate, the image from the
previous display was burned into his mind.  Tom thought, half-amused,
that
from now on the blips on his screen would appear as naked boys; he
wondered
whether any plane crashes would result.

"Well, I'm going to bed, too," Lance answered with a smirk.  "Nice doing
business with you."

On an odd impulse, Tom held out his hand.  Lance was surprised but shook
it,
then walked out, resuming the smirk.

Tom's eyes followed him as he went, wishing at the same time that he
would
stay and that he would get out so that Tom could masturbate, something
he
hadn't done in nearly five years.  When the boy was gone, he sat down on
the
blanket and closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to drive out the
images
he had seen.  When he gave up and opened them, he noticed that Charlie's
underwear was lying on the floor.  He picked up the briefs and smelled
them.
They had very little smell, mostly of clean laundry; underneath,
however,
was a slight smell, mostly soap, but with a hint of boy.  He inhaled
deeply.

Tom pulled the front of his boxers down and put the briefs over his
cock,
which seemed to be so hard that it would shatter if touched, like a
banana
dipped in liquid nitrogen.  He closed his eyes and thought of Charlie
rubbing Lance's back, moving his little butt back and forth, Lance
spreading
his legs in contentment.  He thought of Charlie pulling his briefs down
-
no, they fell off him - and Lance's little pecker, now hard, sliding
into
Charlie's cleft.  He came so hard he had a cramp in his thigh.

As he sat rubbing his thigh, Tom was suddenly visited with horrible
dread.
God, what am I going to do? he thought.  I've kept this in check for my
entire life, kept it entirely secret, in fact, but now these boys know
the
secret.  My life will be ruined.  Someday, maybe even tomorrow, they'll
tell
someone, maybe just another classmate, who will tell a teacher, who will
tell Lance's parents, and that will be it.  Tom couldn't bear it.  He
thought of killing himself - he knew there must be a gun in the house
somewhere; Lance's father was an avid hunter.  Then he thought of the
boys
finding his body the next day, his brains splattered over the living
room
wall.  No, that would destroy them, especially Charlie, he thought. 
They
don't deserve that - *I'm* the one who deserves to die, not them; they
were
just playing a game.

He found the remote control on the floor and clicked through the
channels,
finding "Little Lord Fauntleroy" playing on A&E's late-night movie.  In
spite of himself, he stopped and watched.  The boy's face kept morphing
into
Charlie's, then Lance's.  He found himself crying at the end.

I'm evil, he thought, as the movie ended.  I need to get away from them
as
fast as possible.  My car is in the driveway; I can just leave.  But
that
was just it - he couldn't leave.  Even in this town, where there hadn't
been
a crime, at least no serious crime, since 1922, 11- and 12-year-old boys
couldn't be left alone.  Tom remembered growing up in the town,
remembered
the time a group of boys had wandered into the abandoned mine outside of
town and had had to be rescued.  There were old wells, too, that had
been
covered over with time.  He wondered then whether he was rationalizing.
Someone else could watch them; he could claim to have fallen ill or
something; maybe claim the government wanted him on an urgent errand
(most
of Tom's relatives only considered him as "working for the government"
and
thought it was much more exciting and dangerous than it actually was). 
But,
no, Aunt Charlotte was getting on and couldn't get around much any more,
and
she lived in Tulsa, over 200 miles away.

Tom resolved himself that he had to stay for the full week.  In that
time,
he had to explain to the boys.  Explain what?  That there was nothing
wrong
with them, that he was to blame.  But if they told, it would still be
the
town gossip for decades to come, and they would suffer by that, in spite
of
what he said.  He hung his head in dejection.

"Tom?" Charlie said.

Tom looked up rapidly, as if he had been shocked.  Charlie was standing
at
the base of the stairs, naked as the day he was born, and just as
unconcerned.  Tom was glad he'd pulled his boxers back up after jacking
off,
but he was still pantsless.  "What is it?" he asked, with kindness - and
guilt.

"I had a bad dream," Charlie lied, convincingly.

"Well, we all have bad dreams, just remember it's only a dream," Tom
said.
To his surprise, he didn't get hard, though he was taking mental notes -
the
masturbation had helped.  He quickly kicked Charlie's cum-soaked briefs
under the sofa.  "You should get back to bed," he added.

"There was a monster in it," the boy said, less convincingly.  Charlie
was
too old to believe in monsters under the bed.

Tom laughed, and the laughter seemed forced, as indeed it was.  "There
are
no monsters in this house," he said, "and I'll take them on if there are
any."  He wondered about the monster bit, but remembered that Charlie
had
seemed shy and innocent, certainly in comparison to Lance.  Some kids
don't
mature as rapidly as others.

"Can I stay with you for a while?" the boy asked, sincerely this time.

"Sure," Tom said, not knowing how he could refuse, and, truth be told,
not
really wanting to.  The kid's eyes were melting his heart.

Charlie smiled and ran over to Tom, sitting next to him on the sofa and
pulling the blanket over them.  Tom stood up a little to let it loose. 
The
boy snuggled close under the blanket, and Tom put his arm around him
protectively.

Tom put on Nick at Nite, which seemed to be the best thing on at that
time
of night from a kid's point of view.  He remembered reading something a
while back about how the old sitcoms had all been geared to a
10-year-old
mind.

Charlie didn't seem to be paying any attention to the TV, though.  "I
like
this," he said, secure in Tom's arms under the blanket.

Tom's guilt came back in full force.  "So do I," he said, giving the boy
a
squeeze, "but what we did before should only be done with certain
people."

"With people you like?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," Tom answered, "um, that is, with some people you like."

"I like you," the boy said, "you like me too, right?"

"Yes, I like you a lot," Tom answered honestly, squeezing the boy again.
God, this was difficult.

"You mean, like, taking money for it?" Charlie asked.


Tempting the Babysitter     part 2

"Well, yes.  When you are in love with somebody, you do things together,
but
if there's money involved, it's not love."

"You can have the money back," the boy said earnestly.  "I only did it
because Lance wanted to.  I mean, my half."

"You can keep the money, Charlie," the man said, the name coming out
with
difficulty "- it's nice of you to offer to give it back though.  The
point I
was making is that love is a lot more important than money, and even
liking
somebody is more important."

"If you like me, does that mean I'm important to you?" Charlie asked.

Tom couldn't resist - he kissed the top of the boy's head.  "Yes, it
does.
Same as Lance and your other friends are important to you.  But when you
get
older, you will have special friends," he carefully added, "probably
girls -
and with those special friends you do different things."

"Like show them my butt," the boy stated.

"Yes, like that.  Only you wouldn't do it like you did.  With your
girlfriend - or your wife - you show your whole body to each other.  It
is a
way of showing your love.  And when a man and a woman get together that
way,
they can have kids, and the kids become part of their love."

"I know what you mean!" Charlie said, and ran back up the stairs.  Tom
was
wondering what could possibly be going on.  Watching the boy's butt
shake as
he ran up the stairs, Tom started to get hard again, but it quickly
subsided.  Charlie came back almost instantly, making more noise than he
should have, with Lance still asleep upstairs.  He was carrying two
magazines.

Charlie got back under the blanket and snuggled back up like he had
never
been gone.  On the TV, Mary Tyler Moore was arguing with Lou Grant about
something, seeming to lose the argument yet winning it, as she always
did.
"Lance showed me these, I mean, he showed me this one," the boy said,
holding out a copy of _Hustler_.  "His dad looks at these all the time,"
he
added, attempting to appear knowing.

Oh my God, Tom thought, as he looked at the picture the boy was showing
him.
It was a woman on a bed on all fours, her wrists tied together.  A
well-endowed man was taking her from behind.  She was on her hands and
knees, and it was difficult to tell which orifice was being penetrated. 
Her
mouth was curled in lust.  Even in Podunk, Tom thought ruefully,
remembering
all the jibes he had received at the office for his small-town
background.

"He's not hurting her, is he?" Charlie asked.

"No, he's not.  They're just playing a game," Tom answered, regretting
how
he had phrased the reply but not knowing what else to say.

"That's what Lance said," the boy answered matter-of-factly.  "He said
it
was a fun game and wanted to play it with me but I said no."

Tom was stupefied.  "Well, that's right.  You shouldn't play that game.
It's only for people who are in love.  For a man and a woman."

"But if you are in love you can play that game?"

"If you are in love you can, but you only do it with a person that is
very
important to you."

"Boys can play that game, too, huh?"

Tom was unable to reply.  After a long pause, he said, "Some boys do
things
like that, but usually it is a man and a woman.  That's how they make
babies."

"If boys do it, does it make babies?"

"No, it doesn't."  He added, "Boys don't usually do it, though.  When
they
do, it is only like practice for when they get older."

"In here, it shows boys doing it," Charlie said, holding up the other
magazine, obviously yellowed and much older than the other one.  The
cover
showed a man with his arms around two boys.  All were clothed, but Tom
did
not doubt that on the inside pages they would not be.

"Did Lance show you that?" Tom asked, curiosity winning out over sense.

"No.  He showed me where his dad's magazines were, and I found this
one."
Charlie, anxious to show his new discovery, didn't pause before opening
the
magazine.  The picture showed the man kissing one of the boys.  The man
was
fully clothed, but the boy was naked, sitting on the man's lap.  "I wish
I
had a dad," he said, sighing.  "My dad is dead," he added,
matter-of-factly.
Once again, Tom didn't know what to say.  Charlie took care of it.  He
got
up slightly, with the blanket still over him, and sat in Tom's lap,
again
arranging the blanket over them both.  "He would love me like that," the
boy
added, pointing to the picture.

"There's a lot more to being a dad than that," Tom started to say, but
Charlie got up a little and kissed him on the cheek, then sat back down.

"The other boys make fun of me 'cause my dad's dead," Charlie almost
whispered.  Obviously, it was a great revelation, or intended as one. 
"Is
it because they get to practice with their dad and I don't?"

"No, it's just because they're mean," Tom said.  He was about to go on,
when
Charlie replied:

"Yeah, their dads probably don't even love them.  Like that," he said,
opening the magazine to a picture that made Tom's jaw drop.  It was
almost
exactly the same pose as the one in _Hustler_, but in this one, the boy
took
the place of the woman.  True, his hands were not tied, but the pictures
were otherwise identical.  In this case, of course, there could be no
doubt
about the orifice.

Tom got hard, and since his own boxers were the only thing between them,
he
knew that Charlie felt it.  If so, the boy gave no sign.  "Well," he
ventured, "not all dads do that with their boys.  In fact, probably most
don't.  It doesn't mean they don't love them."

"Well, Lance's dad does," Charlie said.

Tom was hornswoggled - no wonder Lance was such a horny little shit,
with so
little shame.  "What does Lance say about it?  Does he like it?" the man
asked, his voice thick, his resolution of only a few minutes ago
forgotten.

"I didn't ask him," Charlie said, seriously.  "He didn't know I was
watching
last night when his dad did it.  Mr. Sanders walked in and just touched
Lance on the arm, and Lance got up and walked out with him.  I followed
and
watched.  They didn't even close the bedroom door," he added, giggling.

"Did they see you?" Tom asked, by now having forgotten all caution.

Charlie giggled.  "No, they didn't.  It was all dark.  I could see
anyways."

"Well, that's good," Tom said, now thinking with his cock, which wanted
nothing more than to be embedded in Charlie's willing ass.  "It's a very
private thing that men do with boys, and it's never talked about,
because
it's too important."

Charlie smiled so as to brighten the darkest cave.  "Yeah!  That's what
it
says here!"  He read from the magazine.  "'"Fuck me, Daddy!" Marty
cries, as
Daddy shoves his cock into his son's most private place.'"

Once again, Tom was unable to speak.  No problem with the schools in
this
town, he thought ruefully - they must still teach phonics here.  He
tried to
understand what the boy wanted, but found other revelations pushing
forward.
Lance's dad was fucking his son, perhaps on a daily basis - certainly a
regular one, judging by the fact that the kid knew what the man wanted
just
by being touched on the arm.  Furthermore, it was consensual, or at
least
habitual, since the boy had not complained.  The man wasn't worried
about
Charlie watching, since the door to the master bedroom was left open -
perhaps he even wanted him to watch.  Tom realized that there was a
nightlight in the hallway, and Charlie could definitely have been seen,
and
both Lance and his father would have known it, so it had to be
intentional.
Lance had wanted to do the same thing to Charlie.

"Not every boy does that with his dad, you said," Charlie said,
interrupting
Tom's reverie.

"No, not all of them," Tom replied.

"Mr. Sanders must love Lance a lot, then," Charlie said seriously.

Tom didn't say anything.  He didn't know what to say.

"Am I, um, do I ..." Charlie seemed to struggle with his words.  Tom
waited.
Charlie made up his mind.  "You like me, right?"

Oh God, Tom thought, nearly cumming then and there; he knew what was
coming,
but he wanted to hear it from the boy's lips.  "I like you a lot," he
said,
giving Charlie a fatherly squeeze.

"Um, you think I'm important, right?  I mean, am I important to you?"
Charlie seemed ashamed of himself then, regretting he had asked the
question.

Tom put his hand on the boy's bare chest under the blanket, his thumb
and
little finger nearly stretching from side to side.  He moved it a
little,
savoring the soft touch, then left it there.  "Yes, I like you a lot,
and
you are important to me," he said softly.

"Well, then, um," Charlie seemed to be working up the courage, "do you,
um,
want to fuck me?  You could, y'know, pretend you were my dad?"

"I will do more than that with you, Charlie," Tom replied, moving both
his
hands under the blanket to feel the marvellous body sitting in his lap.
Charlie sighed as the man's hands roamed over his legs, hips, chest,
back
and shoulders.  "I will do whatever you want, but you tell me if you
don't
want me to do anything, okay?"

The boy was obviously not paying attention.  He had reached under Tom's
shirt and was feeling his chest and arms.  "Yeah," he said.  Suddenly,
he
hugged Tom so hard the man was nearly unable to breathe.

Tom stood up, took off his shirt and boxers, then gave Charlie both
views,
his arms held out.  Charlie giggled.  He wrapped the boy in the blanket
and
carried him upstairs to the master bedroom.  Lance's bedroom door was
open;
Tom was pleased.  His mind was clear.  No lights were on upstairs, but
the
hallway nightlight was shining.

Tom threw Charlie on the bed with a bounce.  The boy giggled loudly. 
Lance
would have to be awake by now.  Tom leaned down and picked Charlie up
with
one hand as he pulled the covers down, then set the boy back down. 
Charlie
watched expectantly.  Tom got in bed and pulled the covers over them
both -
just one sheet and a blanket, though; they would work up enough heat
themselves.  When Lance got up to watch, Tom thought, he'll only see the
blanket moving.  Imagination is the best aphrodisiac.

Tom thought he heard a bed squeak in Lance's bedroom, but his attention
was
elsewhere.  He framed Charlie's face with his hands and kissed him
lightly
on the lips, the moved them slowly down the boy's arms, savoring
especially
the delicate wrist and fingertips.  He held both hands, intertwining
their
fingers, as he kissed the boy again, licking the child's lips this time.
Charlie sighed, and Tom inhaled his breath.  He moved his hands up to
the
boy's shoulders and touched him, just with the fingertips.  He moved
them
down across the boy's collarbone and around his nipples, just touching
each.
Tom then went back across under Charlie's arms, stopping just short of
the
ticklish spot.  From there, he traced his way along the boy's sides till
he
came to the pelvis, then followed the prominent edge till his fingers
met in
the middle.  He laid one hand flat on the boy's chest and played with
his
bellybutton with the other, eliciting a giggle that he smothered with a
kiss, running his hands down the boy's sides, stopping as before at the
pelvis.  Charlie shivered.

Tom smiled.  He crawled down under the covers and kissed each of
Charlie's
feet tenderly, then wrapped his hands around the boy's ankles and
started
moving up.  At the knees, he stopped and looked at the boy's face:  his
eyes
were closed, his mouth open.  Tom smiled again and kept moving up, inch
by
inch, till he got to Charlie's hips.  He could hear the boy breathing.

Tom pushed Charlie's knees up.  The blanket fell off of both of them.  A
gasp was heard in the hallway.  Tom licked each of the boy's ass cheeks,
starting at the hip and working toward the center.  Charlie was
breathing
audibly.  Finally, the man reached the boy's hole, but instead of
licking
there he went all the way down to the base of the crack and licked
slowly
upward, pausing briefly to lick lightly around the hole, not touching
it,
however, and continued up to the space between Charlie's legs.

Charlie was going ballistic.  Nobody, *nobody* had touched him there
since
he had last been bathed by his mother, and he couldn't remember that. 
He
felt like something was building up in him, that he would explode if
this
went on, but he didn't want it to stop.  His breath was coming in deep
gasps, widely spaced.

Tom licked the underside of the boy's balls, as if by accident, then
went
back to the asshole.  This time he didn't dance around but licked it
directly, moving his tongue around and around Charlie's pucker.  The
boy's
head spun in time with the tongue, then, just as it seemed that the
torture
would never end, Tom planted his tongue directly at the opening,
pressing
against it.  "Ah-h-h," Charlie said.  Tom pressed harder, and the tip of
his
tongue slipped in.  "Uh-hh-uh," the boy continued to vocalize.  He
twirled
his tongue a bit and pushed in further.  He pulled out a bit, then
pushed in
all the way.  Charlie squeaked loudly.  Tom smiled.  "Wow," a voice from
the
hallway whispered.

Tom pulled his tongue out, then pushed back in again, setting up a
rhythm.
Charlie was shaking like a leaf.  Tom was amazed he could be so
effective,
when he was just as inexperienced as Charlie - several years of
fantasizing
was evidently paying off.  His amazement turned to alarm when the boy's
sphincter suddenly clamped shut, trapping Tom's tongue inside.
"Eee-eeee-eeeeee-eee," Charlie screamed.  The whole block was awake
after
that.  "Fuck, Charlie," the voice in the hall said.  The boy finally let
go,
and Tom savored the taste, cleaning his tongue on the roof of his mouth
and
swallowing.

"Did you like that, Charlie?" the man asked, taking the boy in his arms,
holding him close.

"Yeah," Charlie said, "do it again."

Tom was surprised.  Charlie had evidently cum, yet he still wanted more?
Suddenly the man realized that there was no wetness above Charlie's
dick,
now held against Tom's belly.  The boy had had a climax, surely, but it
didn't leave him spent as it would a man.

Tom smiled again, more broadly than ever.  He kissed Charlie on the lips
(the boy didn't seem to mind) and went directly to the little cock.  He
started by simply breathing on the circumcised head.  Charlie arched his
back.  Tom went down and licked the space between the boy's legs again.
Charlie moved them wider apart.  Tom let his tongue play with the bottom
of
the boy's ball sac, making each touch a surprise.  He moved up and
breathed
on the boy's cock again, then licked it lightly with the tip of his
tongue,
starting at the base, stopping short of the head.  Charlie acted as if
he
had been shocked.

This is too easy, Tom thought, as he moved back down, taking each little
ball in his mouth in turn and swirling it around.  Charlie was shaking
like
a leaf, reacting to each touch, no matter how small.  Tom moved his lips
slowly up the length of the cock, then kissed the head.  He licked it
lightly, then took it in his mouth.

Charlie shook again, and Tom sensed that he was nearing another orgasm. 
He
decided that he needed to remind Charlie where the center of a boy's
sexiness was.  He licked the tip of his middle finger and shoved it in
Charlie's still-slick ass.  Tom then went down and took the boy's cock
and
balls into his mouth, licking around the tip and down to the base.  He
sucked a little bit, bathing both in his saliva.  At the same time, he
moved
his finger in a little more, reaching the second knuckle.

"Ohhh-hhhh-hhh," the boy said.  Tom pushed the finger all the way in and
twirled it around as he moved up and down on the boycock, giving it full
suction and licking the little balls on each downstroke.  It didn't take
long then.  Charlie was soon bucking his hips, pushing up into Tom's
mouth
on the upstroke, pushing onto the finger on the downstroke.  "Eeee-eee,"
he
started, then it choked off; unable even to squeak, unable to breathe,
Charlie came again for the second time.  The pulsation of his cock in
Tom's
mouth, however, was the only sign of it.

Tom couldn't get enough, however, and kept sucking for a little while.
Eventually he realized that Charlie was unable to get his breath, and he
stopped.  He left the tip of his finger in, however.

"Do it," Charlie breathed, "again."  Like all kids, he couldn't get
enough
of a good thing - which is why a kid will eat ice cream till he's sick
if an
adult doesn't stop him.

"Wow, hot little shit," Lance said, standing in the doorway, stroking. 
Tom
turned to look at him.  The other boy was completely naked but didn't
seem
to see Tom, his eyes fixed on Charlie's face.

"Okay, one more time," Tom said, looking into Charlie's eyes, one hand
roaming over the smooth body, the other with one finger in the boy's
ass.
"You wanted me to pretend I was your dad and fuck you, right?"

"Yeah, like Lance's dad," Charlie said.  "Shit!" Lance exclaimed from
the
doorway.

"It will go in here," Tom said, wiggling his finger for emphasis.

"In there," Charlie said, in a trance.

Tom put the boy's hand on his own hard cock.  He couldn't imagine how he
had
failed to cum before now.  "This will go in there," he breathed, making
sure
the boy understood.  Even now, he wasn't going to take advantage.  "It's
big, and it might hurt."

"But then it will feel real good, Charlie," Lance said.

"Like your dad does," Charlie said absently, twisting his hips on Tom's
finger.

"Like my dad does," Lance echoed, stroking in earnest.

"Put it in me," Charlie said, his eyes closed.  "Do it again."

Tom spat on his hand, though he doubted any additional lubrication was
needed, and spread it on his cock, mixing with the precum that was
already
dribbling down from the tip.  He pushed Charlie's legs back again. 
Suddenly
he felt mischevous.  He reached between the boy's legs and ran his
fingers
up over that sensitive space, over the balls, and to the hyper-sensitive
tip, which he barely touched.  At the same time, he pushed the finger in
again to the second knuckle, wiggling it slightly.  "Tell me what you
want
me to do, Charlie," Tom said, huskily.

"Fuck me," the boy said.

It was all Tom needed to hear.  He pulled the finger out and pushed
Charlie
back, his legs over his head.  Charlie opened his eyes in fear, as if
suddenly realizing what he had asked the man to do.  If that were the
case,
it was too late, for Tom immediately pushed the head of his 6-inch cock
into
Charlie's "most private place," shoving past the sphincter as if if
weren't
there.

The man felt a slight twinge as the head of his cock was pulled apart,
but
it was nothing compared to what Charlie felt.  "Aaaaa-aaaah," he said
(well,
sort of "said").

Lance grabbed Charlie's hand.  "It hurts at first, Charlie," he said,
"but
you will like it more and more.  I do," he added, then looked up at Tom,
who
smiled.  Lance looked back down at his feet, ashamed of the admission
but
unable to take it back.

"I can take it," Charlie said through gritted teeth, "push it in more."

Tom was only too glad to oblige.  Feeling close to cumming himself, he
shoved it all in in one lunge.  "There ya go, kid," he said, feeling
evil.

Charlie screamed again, this time not from arousal but from pain.  "Go
through it," Lance helped.  "Relax down there, and it will hurt less."

"Is it all in?" Charlie asked.

"It's all in," Tom answered.  "Yeah, that's all," Lance added, and Tom
looked sternly at him to be quiet.

"You are like my dad, then, like Lance's dad," Charlie said.

"Yeah, you're my little boy, and I'm fucking your little boypussy," Tom
said.  Lance heard that and looked at the cock embedded in his friend's
ass.
He seemed to forget about Charlie then, dropping the other boy's hand,
staring instead at the invader impaling his friend.

"I'm your little boy ..." Charlie whispered with satisfaction, the pain
subsiding.

"But you got to give me a good fuck," Tom said, savoring the feeling of
the
tight virgin ass around his cock, but wanting to get on with it, to
share
the joy that Charlie had felt twice already.

"I will," Charlie said, but before he had finished, Tom had started
pumping
in and out, slowly at first, then accelerating.  As Lance had said,
Charlie
was evidently in pain at first, biting his lip to avoid crying out, but
he
was soon bucking his hips, pushing down as the cock entered him, as
pleasure
- or perhaps rather the thought of what was being done to him - took
over.
A man was finally loving him.  That thought electrified him more than
the
earlier times, and, fighting against the pain as Tom's cock shoved in
and
out, finally he transcended it, and soon had the greatest orgasm of the
night.

As before, Charlie screamed, and Tom, had he been thinking, would have
been
grateful for the fact that they lived well on the outskirts of town.  As
it
was, he wasn't thinking - he was ramming his cock into the boy beneath
him
as fast as he could.  Once more, Charlie's orgasm was unmistakeable. 
Tom
found it nearly impossible to keep moving as the boy clamped down.  At
the
same time, looking at the boy beneath him, writhing in the throes of
what
seemed to be the greatest orgasm of all time, feeling the little muscles
stiffen as the boy's cock struggled to produce something, anything, to
relieve the tension - well, it set Tom off.  He started shooting into
Charlie, harder that he had ever shot before, harder even than the j/o
session he had had earlier that night.  It was the greatest experience
of
his life, as if he had be put on earth only for this.  The soles of his
feet
hurt.  He fell on top of Charlie, nearly smothering him, then
half-remembered himself and rolled over, still stuck in the boy.  Tom
noticed something dripping slowly down his side and back - it was
Lance's
cum.

Charlie was still in the impossible position of having his knees against
his
shoulders, his feet over his head, though he now rested on his side. 
Tom's
body was holding him that way, against the tendons in the boy's thighs,
and
the only thing holding Tom there was his cock, embedded in Charlie's
ass.
Something had to give, and it did, as Tom popped loudly out of Charlie.
They both fell back, Charlie's legs flopping down as if he were a rag
doll,
both breathing heavily.

Charlie snuggled up against Tom, ignoring Lance, who was feeling Charlie
gingerly with his fingertips, as if he feared getting burnt.  "You love
me,"
Charlie said, as if stating a fact.

Tom looked at him.  "Yes," he said.  And, at that moment, he did.  He
kissed
Charlie on the lips.

"Can we do it again?" Charlie asked.  Tom rolled his eyes.  "God, you're
hot," Lance said.

"Another time," Tom said.  "I'm all worn out.  You boys go at it."  He
started to get up.

"Stay here!" Charlie said, panicked, grabbing Tom's arm.

"Yeah, stay," Lance said.  "You can watch us."

So Tom stayed, lying on his side, his head in his hand, as the boys
"went at
it."  And they did - with a vengeance.  First, Lance asked Charlie to
suck
his dick.  Charlie looked at Tom to see if it was okay.  Tom smiled and
nodded, and Charlie when right to it.  A couple times Lance had to warn
him
about teeth, but it wasn't long before a very surprised-looking Charlie
was
sitting in bed with cum flowing out of his mouth.  "Swallow it," Tom
told
him, and Charlie did.  Charlie wanted to "do it again," and Lance was
game.
This time, Lance sucked Charlie off.  Charlie put his finger in his
butt,
but Lance pulled it out.  "That's next time," he said.  Charlie came,
screaming as always.  Next Lance, true to his word, draped Charlie over
the
edge of the bed and fucked him.  Lance was not at all concerned with how
Charlie felt and fucked him like a rabbit, but Charlie came again
anyway.
So did Lance.  Lance, by that time, was spent as well, but Charlie
begged
him to "do it again."  Lance laid on the bed as Charlie licked his ass,
then
fucked him.  Again Charlie came.  Tom lost count of all the times
Charlie
had an orgasm; he did it at least twice while Lance was fucking him. 
Still
he wanted to "do it again."

Finally, Lance told him no, he was worn out too.  Lance laid down on one
side of the bed, Tom on the other, and Charlie curled up in between.
Charlie put his head on Tom's shoulder.  His little prick, still hard,
rubbed against Tom's thigh.  Lance eventually rolled over and spooned
Charlie.  He stretched his arm over the other boy so that it rested on
Tom's
chest.  It was going to be an interesting week, Tom thought.

THE END