Date: Tue, 17 Nov 2009 08:43:03 -0800 (PST)
From: William Rush <greenphone69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Howdy Archivist

This Love Lost in My Heart
Part II
by William Rush

Disclaimer

The content and opinions expressed in this story are not necessarily the
personal view of the story's author and not necessarily those of anyone
responsible for this archive or website.

This story contains depictions of sexually explicit erotic acts. In some
cases these acts may be of a homosexual nature, if this is illegal where
you are at, please stop reading now.

This story depicts simulated sexual acts between adults and minors. If this
type of material is offensive to you, then stop reading now. By reading
further you declare or affirm that you are not a minor or in the company of
a minor and are entitled to read this material, furthermore you declare
that you will not hold the author and the archive or website publishing
this story liable for any damages incurred from reading this story.

The author grants permission for this work and all his other works to be
reposted on any site as long as the site does not charge for membership and
as long as it is legal to post the story on that site and that there is no
illegal intent when posting the story. If a site charges membership,
permission must be granted prior to allowing the story to be published. The
author retains all rights to the story and permission to publish this story
does not alter or transfer those rights.

I also want to make my normal speech now. This is a work of fiction and as
such, should be treated as that. I do not endorse anything that happens in
this story, nor do I encourage anyone to participate in any activities like
this. This is fantasy. If you feel that you are in danger of molesting or
harming a child, then you should seek immediate psychiatric help. Remember
in most countries there's nothing illegal about having those thought, but
if you act on them that's an entirely different matter. Any similarities to
real people or places, is completely coincidental.

Also I feel it's important to point out that this story is a work of
fiction. I am writing this story in the first person, but I am not this
man. This man's life is the creation of free expression, not of
reality. With that said, I hope you enjoy the story.



From the end in Part I

He looked at me watching him and smiled mischievously opening his legs a
bit more. Five minutes later he was sitting next to me on the couch pawing
at my crotch. I watched as he squeezed my cock in his hand, looking at the
trickle of pre-cum, probably thinking it was for him and not that first
little boy I had sex with so long ago.

"Do you want me to suck it," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "but only if you want to."

He grinned and knelt down in front of me, looking up at me as his lips
touched my glans. I groaned, remembering for a second little Brian, who
used to tease me by running his tongue over the head of my penis.


Part II

I ran my hand through Ricky's hair, his eyes watching me, innocent and
curious, I'm sure he was wondering if he was doing it right. He moved his
mouth over the tip of my cock, keeping his tongue away, as if he was
uncertain whether or not he wanted a taste of my pre-cum fresh from the
slit.

"Lick it," I said in a husky voice.

He looked at me for a second, then squeezed his eyes shut, the look of a
child told to eat his broccoli. I felt him run his tongue softly over the
head of my cock, lingering at the tip. The feeling sent tingles through my
cock and I smiled.

"That feels great," I said, stroking his hair softly.

He opened his eyes again and I saw a glint there, the boy was hungering for
approval, I felt bad taking advantage of it. He took more of my cock in his
mouth and I felt it slide across his tongue, his eyes looking down at my
hairy bush, almost in awe. I couldn't take my eyes off the sexy sight of
this little eleven year old brown haired angel sucking me, his twinkling
green eyes looking at me for a second, then suddenly self-conscious,
looking away.

He bobbed his head up and down, imitating the motions I had made on his own
cock the night before. I let him do what he felt like, I wanted him to feel
comfortable doing this, not forced. He wasn't very good, to be honest, but
he didn't have to be, the sight of him with his lips wrapped around my
thick cock, was enough to get the seed boiling in my balls. I didn't want
to come that quick though, I wanted it to last.

"Lick my balls," I said.

I saw the look on his face, his young mind deciding how far he was willing
to go. He took my spit slick cock out of his mouth, and started to lick
down it's length until he reached my sack, then one at a time, he ran his
tongue over each one of my balls, watching me. I smiled and continued to
stroke his soft hair.

"That's nice," I said. "You're a natural."

He smiled and said, "does it really feel good? Am I doing it right?"

"Ricky," I said, "you couldn't do it wrong if you tried."

He giggled and took my cock back in his mouth with a renewed vigor, sucking
more and more inside until it bumped the back of his throat, bringing tears
to his eyes. I moaned as I felt his mouth convulse around my cock, but I
stayed still, regardless of what my cock wanted to do. The last thing I
wanted was to scare the crap out of this kid trying to force him to do
something he wasn't willing to do.

He continued to suck me, running his tongue under the length, allowing my
pre-cum to seep out into his mouth like sap. He watched me now, no longer
shy, but instead he looked almost proud that he could make me feel so good.

"I'm almost there," I said, feeling my body begin to react to the sensation
of his warm mouth. "you might want to start stroking it now."

He took his mouth off my cock, much to my disappointment, and began
stroking my cock up and down as he watched me.

"Is it close," he asked, this excited look on his face.

"Oh yeah," I said, then before I realized what I was saying, asked him,
"can I cum on your face?"

He looked at me with a slight frown, then as if he had decided, in for a
penny, in for a pound, pointed my cock at his face and kept stroking.

"Oh God," I moaned, "here it comes."

I watched as my thick cum shot of my cock and splattered a long strand of
cum across his cheek, a second thick spurt came out and coated his nose and
upper lip, a third landed on his forehead, dripping over his right eye. He
kept stroking, a brave little soldier, allowing my cum to run out from the
tip and coat his lips and chin. His face was sticky with my juices. Without
asking he took my cock, slick with my cum, into his mouth and gave it one
last suck, then let it out with an audible pop.

"God," I said, "Ricky, that was the best cum ever."

I was lying, but not by much, it was indeed one of the best orgasms I ever
had, in part because of the lewd display of this little guy kneeling in
front of me, his face glazed over with my cum.

"Did you really like it," he asked, my juices dripping down off his chin,
threatening to land on the floor.

"Yeah," I said, handing him a towel.

He took the towel and wiped his face, but rather than removing the cum, he
only succeeded in coating his face even more with my seed. I groaned and my
cock twitched at the sight.

I watched Ricky as he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for dinner. He kept
asking if I'd really liked it, as if I was lying to him so I didn't hurt
his feelings. I told him I loved it and he could suck me anytime he
wanted. He watched me smiling, a knowing look on his face, the look of a
boy who had just figured out one of the mysteries of life.

"Do you want to do it again," he asked, insatiable.

"Not right now," I said, pouring a package of spinach into a pan, "don't
you want something to eat?"

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't like spinach."

I felt like saying, you don't care for the taste of cum either, but you ate
it, instead I said, "well you don't have to eat it if you don't like it."

I put a fried ham steak on his plate and then one on mine. He liked carrots
and peas. He watched me as I ate and I worried that he had finally started
to feel guilty, but that wasn't the case.

"What's on your mind," I asked.

"Nothing," he said, looking at his food, moving his peas around his plate
with his fork.

"Come on," I said, "you can tell me."

"Would you have let me stay here if you didn't want to," he said, "you
know."

"Yes," I said. "I wanted to help you the moment I saw you. You didn't
deserve to be out there."

"Did anyone let you stay with them when you were living on the streets," he
asked.

"No," I said, "I can't say that they did."

"So where did you stay," he asked.

"I rented a room," I said, "back then you could get away with that."

"You had your own room," he asked.

"Yep," I said, remembering that room well.

A Russian man named Demitri had rented me the room and given me the key. He
wasn't a pimp in the straightest sense, rather he wanted a split on the
action, as well as a bit of action of his own. The man was hung like a
horse and after he got done with you, it was really hard to even sit down,
let alone see other men that day. I wasn't even twelve at the time, but I
had a few regular customers that came to see me, enough to pay the daily
rent. Demitri would always come up at ten to put me to bed, leaving a fresh
load of his cum in my tummy or ass. He would stroke my hair and tell me he
felt sorry for me, but he never offered to let me stay in the room for
free.

I worked that room for about a year, before Demetri got busted and sent
away. I almost got pinched too, but I had snuck out the window and hid on
the roof, until the cops left, then I snuck back down and grabbed my stuff
and left.

"Did you like living there," he asked.

"It was better than nothing," I said.

Ricky was insatiable now. As I washed the dishes, I watched him stroking
his little cock while he watched a woman's volleyball competition on
ESPN. I smiled, I was pretty sure he wasn't gay. I knew that he had seduced
me more out of fear than gratitude, the simple fact being he didn't want to
have to go back out on the street, or worse his mom's apartment. At least I
wasn't selling his toys and clothes for drugs. I wasn't bringing men home
at three in the morning and fucking them on the living room couch. No, in
the grand scheme of things, taking my cock in his mouth was probably a lot
less repugnant to him than hearing his mom have sex every night with some
stranger or watching her lay there on the couch so sick she couldn't move
when she ran out of drugs.

My mom had been no different. I remembered the times my dad was in jail, my
mom having to do whatever she could to get her fix. Unlike Ricky, I would
never have flushed my mom's drugs, no, I would've tried to get her more. My
mom was a terror when she started to come down. I have a scar across back
of my head to attest to that fact.  I got too close to her when I was eight
and she hit me across the back of the head with a coffee cup, split my
scalp open straight to the skull.

Yeah, if I was him I'd have sucked some stranger off too if it meant I
didn't have to be in that kind of hell. There were no illusions on my
part. I realized that I probably had feelings for the kid, maybe even loved
him, in whatever way a man can love a boy that's not his son, but the kid,
he was only doing what he needed to do to survive. If I was a decent man,
I'd have dropped him off at Family Services and prayed that he got a good
home, who knows, maybe he might. I just know that foster homes are a crap
game. Not a lot of people take in foster kids out of the good of their
heart, most are doing it for the extra money they get. That's not to say
there aren't decent loving foster parents out there, there are, it's just,
from what I hear, you're more likely to run into the man who can't keep his
hands off you at bedtime, or the woman who likes to sit on your legs and
burn her initials into your tummy with her cigarette butts.

It amazes me how the system can work the way it does. My friends Charlie
and Manuel grew up in a group home. The stories they told me gave me
nightmares. I have no doubt why they're the prolific boy fuckers they are,
or why they're so successful at their chosen occupation. They spent a good
part of their childhoods being manipulated into having sex, it trained them
to be perfect little manipulators themselves.

Thinking about that shit, sent my stomach south. I looked at adorable
little Ricky, still innocent in his own way, jerking his little dick,
oblivious to the fact that he shouldn't be doing that, at least not in
front of me. I knew he was never going to be 'normal' now, that some part
of him was broken, whether he admitted it or I did. Yeah he might still
grow up and get married, but he probably would have some kink relating to
our time together, whatever that might be.

Maybe I was making excuses so I didn't have to lose him. I didn't want to
lose him. I watched the kid and something inside my soul moved, something I
couldn't quite place. I wanted this little boy to be happy and loved. I
realized that if it meant I could never touch him again, I'd rather have
that, than have him go through what I did. I finally made a decision and
called one of my old friends, Phil.

Phil was a lawyer. He represented the dregs of society. Most people would
call him a scumbag, I know I would, but he got the job done when it could
get done. I told him about everything except for the sex, I thought it
would be best to leave that out, if for no other reason, than a fear that
Phil might come over and try to get a piece of Ricky as payment.

"Fuck," Phil said. "Do you know what you're doing? You could get time for
this."

"I know," I said. "I couldn't help it."

"Are you sure you're not touching the kid," he asked. "You know they'll
look at him, do swabs and all that shit."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm not touching him."

"Fuck," Phil said, waiting a moment, "I'll look into it for you, but I
can't make any promises."

"I don't want this kid getting hurt," I said. "He's a good kid."

"Let me make some calls," he said. "See if there's anything that can be
done."

"How much is this going to cost me," I asked.

"It's not cheap," he said, "you should know that. Pretty little boys are an
expensive commodity."

"No ones touching this kid," I said, as menacingly as I could.

"Luke," he said, "he's not my cup of tea, don't worry. I'm just saying,
there are going to be questions as to why a single man you're age wants to
take care of a pretty little boy. Unless you can answer them, you're
probably going to end up spending the next ten years in Sing Sing."

I hung up the phone, my hands trembling. I looked at the kid now, wondering
if I should just kick him out. He laughed at something on TV. I thought for
all my trouble I deserved a little something, so I went over and picked him
up out of the chair and carried him to the bed. He laughed the entire way
there.

I pulled his clothes off and sucked his little prick for what seemed like
hours. I couldn't tell how many times the kid came, after awhile he just
didn't have any juice left to squirt. He finally pulled me off him and
begged to do me.

He sucked my dick into his mouth, looking at me with those cute green eyes,
his lips stretched taught around my knob. I moaned and put my hand on the
top of his head, guiding him on and off my dick, relishing the sensations
of his mouth. I didn't tell him when I was going to cum, I just let it go,
holding his head down on my cock, forcing him to take it in his mouth. He
looked at me with his eyes wild, feeling my juices pump out inside of
him. When I was done and let him up, he spit my seed out into his hand and
looked at me, with this shocked expression.

"Gross," he said, in an angry little voice. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry buddy," I said, "I don't know what came over me, I just wanted
to come in your mouth so bad."

He looked at me pouting, a strand of cum hanging off his chin.

"Was it really that bad," I asked.

"I don't want to do that," he said.

"It feels so good though," I said. "You like coming in my mouth, don't
you?"

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't have sperm yet."

"So," I said, "you still have juice."

"But you like that stuff," he said.

"I didn't always," I said, "at first I swallowed it because it made my
friends happy."

"I don't know," he said, looking away.

"It's okay," I said, "if you don't want to, you don't have to. I shouldn't
have made you, you were just doing such a great job, I lost it for a
second."

"Did it really feel that good," he asked.

"God," I said, "did it ever."

My little speech worked. A couple hours later, when my batteries were
recharged, Ricky sucked me again, only this time when I told him I was
coming, he kept it in his mouth and swallowed all my seed. He looked a bit
disgusted, but he did it. I was amazed at how far this kid was going so
quickly. It could take months to get a boy to even taste your cum, Ricky
was swallowing it the same day he started.

It all seemed like a dream as I lay in bed, Ricky laying on his tummy next
to me, already fast asleep, his little leg draped over mine. I stroked the
boys hair and looked at him, not really understanding where these feelings
I felt for him were coming from. I had seen a lot of little boys on the
street and had just kept walking. Ricky was different, the few days we
spent together taught me that even more than before. As I fell asleep I
decided that I would go to whatever lengths I needed to, to ensure that
this boy was happy. If that meant giving him to someone else, then so be
it.

Ricky was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons, laughing now and
again, dead to the world. I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I
heard the knock on the door. I went to open it and I found Phil standing
there in the hallway.

"Can I come in," he asked.

"What are you doing here," I asked.

"I'm representing you," he said.

"What the hell Phil," I said, "the boys here."

"I know," he said, "I need to talk to him first, before I do anything."

"Talk," I asked.

"Don't worry," he said. "He's too young for my tastes."

I opened the door and let Phil in. He walked in and looked around. Ricky
was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the kid," he asked.

"He must have hid in the bedroom," I said, "Ricky come on out."

Ricky opened the bedroom door and looked out, he had gotten on a pair of
shorts and a t-shirt.

"It's okay," I said. "This is my lawyer, Phil. He's trying to help me find
a place for you to live."

"Hello Ricky," Phil said. "Don't worry, I'm just hear to talk to you. I
want to know what you want to do."

"I want to stay here," Ricky said, in an angry voice. "I like it here."

"Ricky," I said, "Phil's trying to help us, be nice."

"That's okay," Phil said, "He's just afraid I'm going to make him leave,
but I'm not. I just want to make sure you're not being hurt."

Phil looked at me after he said that, and I said, "I wouldn't hurt him."

"Luke is nice to me," Ricky said, in a pleading voice, "Please don't make
me leave. I like Luke."

"I know you do Ricky," Phil said, "but what about your mom? Would you want
to stay with her if she got cleaned up?"

"What do you mean," he asked.

"I spoke to her," Phil said. "She's going into rehab tomorrow. She's very
sorry about what happened. She loves you very much you know."

"She's going to stop taking drugs," Ricky asked, doubt in his voice.

"Yes," Phil said. "Well, she's going to try."

"How did you find that out," I asked.

"You said you wanted me to make sure the kid was okay," Phil said. "I
couldn't think of anyone better to take care of him than his mom. We just
have to get her cleaned up first."

"What about Luke," Ricky asked.

"Well," Phil said, "you can stay with Luke until your mom gets better, then
you'll go home and live with her again."

"I don't want to live with her," he said, in an angry voice.

"She loves you very much," Phil said, "she's just very sick right now. She
was really sad that she hurt you. She's been worried sick since you left."

"I didn't leave," Ricky said, "she kicked me out."

"I know," Phil said, "and she's very sorry she did that. She loves you very
much and she wants to get clean so she can take care of you again, really
be your mom."

"I don't believe you," Ricky said.

"You don't have to right now," Phil said. "All you have to do is stay here
until she gets better."

"What if she doesn't get better," Ricky asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Phil said.


Ricky sat next to me on the couch, watching Friends. He had been very quiet
since Phil left. I had mixed feelings about the whole thing, not wanting
him to go, but also knowing that he needed a mother and a normal home.

"You know," I said, "I'll still be right here, if you need me."

"I know," he said.

"Don't you want your mom to get well," I asked.

"I don't think she'll get better," he said in a sad little voice.

"Well," I said, "all we can do is hope for the best."

He nodded and leaned against me, wrapping his arms around my own arm. We
watched TV until it got late. When it came time to go to bed, he said he
wanted to sleep on the couch. I waited 'til he fell asleep and then went
and laid down on my bed. I couldn't get to sleep. At around two, while I
was laying in the dark, I heard Ricky moving around in the living room. I
got out of bed to find him stuffing his things into one of my backpacks.

"Weren't you going to say goodbye," I asked.

He jumped and turned to look at me, fear in his eyes, and said, "I didn't
want you to stop me."

"Where are you going to go," I asked.

"I don't know," he said, "but I don't want to go to my mom's. I don't love
my mother anymore."

"Okay," I said. "then you wont go back there, you'll stay with me, we'll do
whatever we have to."

"What do you mean," he asked.

"If it comes down to it," I said, "you wont go back, we'll leave and go
someplace else."

"But what about mom," he asked.

"She had her chance with you," I said, "and if it comes down to you being
safe or running away, I'm going to make sure you're safe."

"Really," he asked, not sounding convinced.

"Ricky," I said, "I care for you so much, even if you might not
understand. I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"It's because I'm like you," he said, "well, like you were."

"Maybe," I said. "maybe not. I just know I'll do anything to make sure your
happy."

"So I don't have to go back with my mom," he asked.

"Not if you don't want to," I said, "but I think we should at least give
her a chance first."

"I don't want to," he said, looking down at her feet, "I never want to see
her again."

"Never is a long time," I said.


Ricky slept on the couch, his head in my lap. I stroked his hair, looking
down at the tired little boy. I realized that his life was different than
mine. If my mother had offered to get clean and take me back, I would've
gone home without a second thought. How horrible it must have been for
little Ricky. I guess I forgot how helpless you can feel when someone you
love is destroying themselves right in front of you, how the love you had
can so easily turn to hate.

The sudden turn of events didn't damper Ricky's libido at all. The next
morning he begged me to suck him, offering to do me 'all the way' if I
did. Who was I to deny him?

He lived up to his promise, going so far as to open his mouth to show me my
cum was inside, only to swallow it down in one gulp, his sour look turning
to a mischievous grin as he saw my reaction.

For the next few days, that's how it went, brief interludes of sex,
followed by our daily routine. I spent as little time at work as I had to,
always worried I'd come home to find him gone. His attitude was changing
though, the sweet little angel was occasionally turning into a little
hellion.

The next weekend we returned to the beach. He was a quick study and soon he
was able to swim on his own. He wasn't a strong swimmer, so I kept my eye
on him, but I let him have some time alone in the water. When it came time
to leave, he begged to stay, but I was firm and told him we had to go for
dinner.

When I got back from parking the car he was sitting watching television,
absorbed in some show that involved giant robots. He was getting distant, I
could tell. I worried we had moved too fast and now he was beginning to
have regrets about the things we did. I should've known better.

"I'm going to take a bath," I said.

"Okay," he said, not taking his eyes from the television.

"Did you have a good time today," I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"You look sad," I said, "what's the matter."

"Nothing," he said.

"I know there's something wrong," I said, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said.

"Is it because I made you do those things," I asked.

"You didn't make me do anything," he said, looking at me with these sad
little eyes.

"Then what is it," I asked.

He waited for a second, looking down at the ground, then said, "it's my
mom."

"We talked about this," I said, "you don't have to go back if you don't
want to."

"What if I do," he said, "I don't want to leave you alone."

"Buddy," I said, kneeling down beside him, running my hand along his cheek,
"you don't need to worry about that, you need to worry about what you want
to do."

"I don't want you to be sad," he said.

"Ricky," I said, "Seeing you sad makes me sad. I only want you to be
happy."

"Will I be able to see you if I go home," he asked.

"I don't see why not," I said, "I can be like your big brother."

"Big brothers are dorky," he said, "My friend Stevie has one and everyone
makes fun of him."

"Then we can just be friends," I said.

"Really," he asked.

"Have I lied to you yet," I asked.

"No," he said, leaning his cheek against my hand.

When I got out of the tub he was waiting on my bed naked. I looked at him,
a towel wrapped around my waist and thought of all the lewd things we could
do, then decided I would rather just spend some time with him.

"Lets play Guitar Hero," I said.

"You don't want to have fun," he asked.

"We can have fun playing the X-Box," I said.

He shrugged and got up off the bed, as he walked by me he let his hand
slide gently across my bulge, as if to say, I know what you really want to
do.

We sat beside each other taking turns playing the video games, for once his
competitive nature was put aside. After awhile he moved and sat on my lap,
looking at me smiling. I smiled back. He could feel my bulge wedged in the
crack of his ass.

"You want to fuck me," he said, this serious look on his face.

"You're too little for that," I said, knowing how painful it was for a boy
his size to take a cock as big as mine.

"I can take it," he said, "if you want to, I'll let you."

I knew he really didn't want to do that, that this was just his way of
making up for telling me he wanted to be with his mom. I should've stopped
him, but feeling him slide his butt across my cock, sent shivers up my
spine.

"Buddy," I said, "If I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

"You don't have to stop," he said. "I want to make you feel good."

"It'll hurt," I said, "maybe a lot."

"I can take it," he said.

I looked at him, smelling the strawberry shampoo in his hair, my dick
throbbed against his backside. Normally boys rarely offered to fuck you. In
most cases you had to coax them into it over time. I knew that Ricky would
be tight, but he also was an older boy, so it probably wouldn't be as
painful for him as it had been for me my first time.

"Has anyone ever fucked you," I asked.

"No," he said, then in a bashful voice added, "but..."

"But what," I asked.

"I've put my fingers up there," he said, "and toilet paper."

"Toilet paper," I asked.

"Yeah," he said, as I slipped my hand inside of his shorts, feeling his
stiff little prick throbbing. "I ball it up and put it inside, then poop it
back out."

"Do you like it," I asked.

"Sometimes," he said. "If feels funny."

"My dick will stretch you a lot more than toilet paper," I said, "are you
sure you want to do it?"

"Yeah," he said. "I like you. I want to do it."

I shook my head, certain that he didn't want to do it, so much as he wanted
to make sure I didn't abandon him. I felt sad that the boy thought the only
thing he had to offer me was his body. I wanted so much to say no, to tell
him I wouldn't do that to him, but instead I lifted him off the couch and
took him into the bedroom.


I stared at him as he lay there rolled up into a ball, his knees on either
side of his head. He watched as I lubed up my fingers. I could tell he was
nervous, frightened even, but he wouldn't deny me, he couldn't, not because
I would force him, but because he wanted all of me and he thought this was
the only way to have that.

I coated his tiny hole with the lube, watching his reaction. He tried to
see what I was doing, but couldn't. I stopped for a second and grabbed him
by the hips and swung him around, then laid him down on his side, so his
left leg was pulled to his chest and his right was held up in the air by my
free hand.

"You can watch me," I said, pointing to the mirror I had placed at the foot
of my bed, so I could see myself when I jacked off.

He lay there resting his cheek on his forearm. I continued to watch him,
gauging his reaction, trying to take it as slow as possible.

"Push out like you're taking a poop," I said.

I watched his little hole wink and when it did I pushed the tip of my
finger inside of him, he let out a little gasp, looking up at me for a
second in surprise.

"Does it hurt," I asked.

"No," he said. "your fingers are bigger than mine."

"I know," I said, "if you don't want to do this, you don't have to."

"I want to," he said.

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop once I'm inside," I said, trying to
be honest, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it," he said, trying very hard to be brave, even as his body
trembled underneath me.

"Okay," I said, moving my finger further inside of him, watching as his
body tensed up.

I gently stroked his leg as I pushed my finger in and out, my cock was as
stiff as it could be, almost painfully stiff. I kept telling myself, 'this
is you, this is you, don't do it', but I couldn't stop. The feeling of his
bottom wrapped around my finger drove me on, fueling the lust inside of me.

He whimpered as I moved my finger in circles inside of him, trying to
stretch him out as much as I could. He lay there, breathing softly, his
eyes glued to the mirror, watching my finger slide in and out of his body.

"That's nice," he said.

"You like that," I asked.

He nodded, not even bothering to look up, instead watching my reflection.

"I'm going to put two inside now," I said.

"Okay," he said, still staring at the obscene display in the mirror.

"Here goes," I said, pushing a second finger inside slowly.

His body went rigid for a second and his face scrunched up in pain as I
slipped inside. He hissed as I twirled my two fingers around, just inside
of his bottom.

"I'm sorry," I said, "do you want me to take them out."

"No," he said, "I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure," I asked, pushing my fingers in slowly, testing his will.

His eyes closed for a second as he grew accustomed to this new intrusion,
then after a moment they opened and he turned his head to look at me.

"Please," he said, "I don't want to be scared anymore."

"What do you mean," I asked.

"Just put it inside," he said, "I don't want to wait anymore."

"It will hurt if I don't stretch you out," I said, moving my fingers in and
out of his bottom.

"It'll hurt anyways," he said, turning back to watch in the mirror, "just
put it in already."

I looked at him, wanting to stop, instead I removed my fingers from his
bottom and applied more lube to his hole, I pushed it inside with my
fingers, smearing his intestines with the slippery fluid, then squirted a
liberal amount on my stiff seven and half inch dick.

I knew I could not put enough lubricant inside of him to make it painless,
that this part would be the true test of his resolve. He watched in the
mirror, his face taking on a grim expression as I placed the head of my
dick against his winking pink hole.

He groaned as I pushed forward, relentlessly applying pressure to his tight
bottom.

"Push out," I said in desperate voice.

When he did, my dick popped in and he cried out, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

His hands pushed against my tummy, trying hard to hold me back, to keep my
cock from going any further. I looked down and saw his anal ring stretched
tight and thin around my dick. I tried to hold as still as I could.

"Does it hurt," I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.

"It's so big," he said on the verge of tears, "I didn't think it would hurt
so much."

"I told you," I said, "it always hurts the first time."

"Don't put anymore in," he said in a pleading voice, "please."

"I wont," I said, "We'll let you stretch out a bit, okay."

He looked at the mirror, seeing his body as it lay bellow mine, the tip of
my thick cock dissapearing into his tight hole, and he shuddered, finally
realizing the enormity of the task at hand.

I did my best to hold still, but each time I shifted, he gasped, feeling my
cock move inside him, even if it was only a centimeter. We stayed like
that, joined together by mere inches, him feeling his tight ring with his
finger, then sliding down the length of my penis still outside of
him. Finally, with patience, the pain lessened and he was ready.

Without a word, I slid further in him. He cried out once more, his head
thrown back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to cope with the
painful intrusion. His eyes were closed now, unable to watch the deviant
act playing out before him.

I could feel him tense up, his body trying to push out my thick muscle, a
futile attempt to resist the massive rod invading his bottom. He whimpered
softly, his eyes closed. I worried if he asked me to, if I could stop.

"Do you want to keep going," I asked.

For a moment there was no reaction, he lay there in contemplation, then he
nodded his head, wiping a rogue tear from his cheek.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said.

"It's starting to feel better," he said in a soft miserable voice. "It's
okay."

My lust outweighed my compassion, the feeling of his tight tunnel squeezing
against my cock too much for me to deny. I pushed forward again, sinking
nearly all of my cock inside of him, eliciting a deep whine from inside of
his small body.

"Wait," he cried out. "Oh God, wait."

"I'm sorry," I said, holding still again, feeling the spasms inside of him,
worried I might have torn his insides.

I started to pull out, but he shouted in a desperate voice, "don't take it
out."

"I need to make sure you're okay," I said, pulling my dick free of his
hole.

I watched as his anus twitched and winked, opening and closing. My dick was
remarkably clean and his hole looked fine, if a bit dilated. I put the
bottle of lube directly against his tight ring and squeezed the slick gel
inside of him, causing him to gasp. Once again I spread the lube over my
cock and placed it at his hole. When I pushed inside for the second time,
he grunted, gripping the sheets in his small hands.

My dick filled him up slowly, stretching him once more. I didn't stop
pushing until my balls rested against his thigh. His cheeks were flush and
he held his breath, wincing as he felt his bottom clinging to my bloated
cock.

"I'm all the way in," I said, "you did it."

He gave me a weak smile and shifted his body beneath me, trying to get into
a comfortable position. I held still, the anticipation of what was too
come, almost unbearable. The idea of stroking my cock in and out of Ricky's
bottom was sending tingles throughout my body.

"Luke," he said, the first signs of hesitation in his voice, "you're too
big."

"The hard parts over," I said.

"I don't know if I can take anymore," he said in a whining voice, "it
really hurts."

"I know buddy," I said, reaching down to stroke his hair, "and I'm so happy
you're letting me do this."

If he told me to, I'd take it out, I knew that. I thought I wouldn't be
able to, I wasn't able to with Brian when I fucked him. Brian had begged me
over and over to stop, but I just kept going. Maybe I was more mature,
maybe my feelings were different for this boy, what I knew was that I
couldn't continue to hurt my darling little Ricky, no matter how dark my
heart was, if it became unbearable for him.

He laid there, his body still tense as his body adjusted to me, he looked
up at me for a second, I'm sure wondering how far I was going to go with
him, whether I would stop if he wanted to. I said nothing, not wanting to
encourage him to stop, rather I left that decision up to him.

"It feels really good," I said.

"Really," he asked, "what does it feel like."

I thought for a second and then said, "really tight."

"I know," he said, "you feel so big."

"It gets easier," I said, "soon you'll beg me to fuck you."

He looked at me, not believing a word of it, then a wicked smile formed on
his lips and he said, "fuck me."

"You're too much," I said, groaning.

I pulled out of him slowly, then pushed back in. He grunted softly as I
bottomed out. I watched where are bodies joined together, the obscene image
of my thick cock stretching his hole taught as it slipped out of his slim
bottom, only to return, filling him up again. As I pushed in the second
time Ricky tried to change positions, rolling over onto his back. He gasped
as my cock pulled free of him.

"Ready," I asked, watching as he pulled his legs up to his his chest.

"Yeah," he said, "but go slow."

I did as he asked, pushing my thick cock into him at a snails pace, feeling
his intestines cling to my dick as it forced it's way back into his tight
passage. He moaned as he felt my length rub along his prostate, causing an
unfamiliar sensation to coarse through his body.

"Oh yeah," he said, arching his back.

I reached down and stroked his little soft penis, trying to take his mind
of the pain, knowing that if I was stimulating his prostate with my dick, I
could give him one of the best orgasms of his young life.

His breathing became ragged, he reached up and pushed my hand away, taking
over the duty of stroking his cock. He pulled on it frantically, I smiled
at his urgency, realizing he was crossing that threshold of pain and
pleasure. He whimpered again, but this time it was the halfhearted whimper
of boy unsure what his body was doing.

I quickened my pace, driving into his bottom, causing Ricky to gasp when I
bottomed out inside of him. I stroked his legs as I held them against my
chest. He opened his eyes and watched me, a puzzled expression on his face.

"You're making my bottom tingle," he said, unaware that I understood better
than him what he was feeling, having been fucked more times in my life than
I could even remember.

"I know," I said, smiling, "I told you it got better."

"Why does it feel good," he asked, innocently.

"Because I'm rubbing your prostate," I said.

"My prostate," he asked.

"It's a little gland in your bottom," I said, smearing some of the clear
fluid from the tip of his dick on to my finger, then showing it to him,
"that's where this is coming from."

"It feels really funny," he said in a tired voice.

"I know," I said, "We'll be done soon."

"Are you going to come inside me," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "you'll feel it when it happens."

He nodded and closed his eyes, absorbed in the sensations coursing through
his bottom and penis. I watched as his fingers tugged at his stiff little
cock urgently, milking as much pleasure as he could from the small organ.

I could feel my own orgasm building as well. My balls began to tighten up
as I watched my dick push in and out of him. Each time he gasped, it
threatened to send me over the edge. Without thinking I grabbed his hips
and started to thrust inside of his bottom at a feverish pace, feeling cum
rising up inside of me, then, as if the very center of my being was
exploding inside of me, I came, shooting thick gobs of slimy juice inside
of his bottom. Ricky's eyes widened in surprise as he felt the fluid shoot
inside of him.

"I can feel it," he shouted. "you're doing it inside me!"

"Oh God," I said, pushing as far as I could inside of his bottom and then
holding still, feeling his slim passage spasm around my dick as it pulsed
and spit more cum into his tight ass.

I collapsed on top of him, panting, trying to catch my breath. It was one
of the most intense orgasms of my life. I felt Ricky pushing against me,
trying to roll me off his small body. I lifted myself up off of him and lay
down beside him.

I saw his fingers still stroking his tiny cock as he whimpered, then a shot
of clear juice shot high up into the air and came down to land next to his
belly button. Three more tiny blasts came out, splattering little patterns
on his belly. When he was done, his cock was coated in his slimy boy juice.

"Did you like it," I asked.

"I guess," he said. "It hurt real bad, then it started to feel better."

"It'll get easier," I said, stroking his side. "Thank you for letting me do
that to you."

"It's okay," he said, "I like you a lot, I want to make you feel good."

"Well you did buddy," I said, "that's the best I've felt in a long time."



To be Continued...