Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2011 01:25:58 -0600
From: Jason Villen <jason.villen@gmail.com>
Subject: Tommy Boy part 1

Disclaimer: this story is entirely fictional and involves sexual activity
between a man and a preadolescent boy. If you are offended by this content
or are under the legal age in your area, please leave now and come back
when you are willing/older.

If you're still here, welcome, enjoy, and send me any comments, feedback,
or praise to my email at jason.villen@gmail.com. But please - lots of
praise. Don't be stingy on that.



The moon was hanging solemnly in the sky, casting its pale, silvery glow
over the summer night. Dogs were barking, cars were driving by, and it was
just a normal Friday. Well, except for the ten-year-old being forced to cum
strapped down onto a cot in my basement. Life is funny like that sometimes.

If you asked me how it happened I'm not sure I'd be able to tell you, but
it probably started about the time I managed to adopt my son, Thomas. He
was seven at the time and was the product of a business trip to Russia that
allowed me for a few days of glorious pleasure tripping, but my ineptitude
at finding my way around an unfamiliar city led me to the
less-than-desirable portion of Saint Petersburg. Luckily it was daylight
and I caught a glimpse of what I can only describe as the cutest boy I had
ever laid eyes on. I had always been attracted to young boys - their lithe,
smooth bodies doing just the thing to arouse me - but he took the cake. I
saw that the sign read "Π`Π'Ρ ΡΠΊΠΈΠΉ Π`ΠΎΠΌ" - literally "children's
home," but understood as "orphanage." I went inside.

That trip began a long legal battle that I'd rather not get into that
lasted for nearly eight months. Of course, by the time I received news that
my papers all checked out I was back in the States, but I bought plane
tickets at the first opportunity and went back to Russia to pick up my new
son.

I called ahead of time to let the owner, warden, whatever you want to call
her know that I was almost there and so Thomas was waiting for me when I
showed up. He was sitting off to the right of the waiting room and kicking
his legs over the edge of the chair when I walked in. His face lit up and
he shot a glance back to the secretary, maybe to check if I was the guy,
and she smiled and nodded slightly. He jumped down off of the chair and
sprinted over to me, latching onto my thigh since that was as high as his
embrace could reach. Even for seven, he was very small. He started rattling
off something in indiscernible Russian until I managed to call out,
"Engliski, Engliski!" through my wide smile.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" he continued, sounding more like "tank
yoo" through his accent. I thanked the secretary and did my best to leave,
finally prying him away enough to walk. He settled for holding my hand the
whole way back to my hotel room, and I don't think I've ever been happier
in my life.

The culture shock started right away since he had never ridden on a plane
before. His eyes were wide and his face was pressed up to the glass for
hours until the flight rocked him to sleep, leaving me to look down and
survey him more closely.

He had fair skin with a few freckles cutely dotting his little nose and
cheeks and was only around 3.5 feet (~1m) tall and, by my best guess, was a
little underweight at 40 lbs (~18kg). I couldn't see his eyes since they
were closed, but I thought I remembered them being green (I was right). He
had light blonde hair, fairly common among his ethnicity, that hung down
over his eyes in loose curls as he slept. It took quite a bit of work
getting all of the matted grime out, but the extra shampoo I had requested
at the hotel did the job. I was surprised that he didn't find it strange
that I was helping him take a bath, but at the time I just chalked it down
to years of having to share everything with everyone and a cultural
difference.

We slept in the same bed, and again I thought nothing of it - for one, it
was either that or he sleep on the couch, and there was no way I was going
to make him do that. Plus, he just felt right sidled up against me as he
slept. "Blagodaryu vas za khranenie menya," he said to me right before he
fell asleep. Even with my less than stellar Russian, I knew he had said
"Thank you for keeping me." I cried a little at that before I followed him
into dreamland.

The two of us got back to my house at around noon two days later, a taxi
bringing us the rest of the way. Thomas was searching around with his big
eyes at all of the what must have been, by his standards, huge homes that
lined the street. They houses were nothing special - mine was only a two
bedroom with one of those shared bathrooms between, a living room, an
office, and the basement - but I imagine he had never seen anything like
them before.

We stepped inside and I did my best to show him around, the language
barrier making it a bit difficult, and showed him his new room last. The
walls were bare and there was nothing in it but a spare armoire, a bed, and
a little table next to that, but he saw it as a palace.

The first few days after that were pretty hectic with trying to sort out my
work schedule, school plans, and of course getting Thomas some respectable
clothing, but it all worked out in the end and I even managed to teach him
a workable amount of English in the little time we had together before he
was enrolled in school.

It quickly became apparent that my job had not been good enough, however,
and Thomas was quickly left behind. The teacher notified me of the problem
and advised that I try homeschooling for a year so that Thomas had more
time to adjust. It was a pain with work, but I somehow convinced my boss to
let me work from home for a while since most of my day is spent in front of
the computer anyway. The year went by without a hitch, we became close, and
people often confused him for my biological son since my skin tone and
blonde hair nearly matched his. I enrolled him in school the next year in
third grade, right on track for an eight-year-old, and he did very well.

Of course, I always had less than parental thoughts in the back of my head
whenever we were together. He was just so cute - how could't I? But I
decided to put him first and never act inappropriately towards him. Unless
of course - and this was the sliver of hope in the back of my mind - he
acted first.

The day finally came when Thomas, or Tommy as he had taken to be called,
celebrated his ninth birthday. Several of his friends from school and the
neighborhood came over and celebrated with him in what must have been his
first ever proper birthday party. While overwhelmed at first, Tommy warmed
up quickly and all of the boys (around ten total) were soon running around
my house like madmen and playing games only nine-year-old boys can think
up, generally making noise and tearing the place apart. By this time I had
already earned the reputation of the "cool" dad, but I decided that ten
o'clock on a school night was plenty late enough for the festivities and
parents had been instructed to arrive around that time to collect their
little hoodlums.

Somehow, all of Tommy's friends were as sexy as him (I'm allowed to use
that word since they aren't my kids and it isn't as weird that way). I had
to escape to the office to hide an impending boner that I felt might be
coming my way halfway through the party since that much fantasy material in
one place can do scary things to a man. I returned to my post when parents
started showing up, and one by one every child save mine left.

I shut the door after the last one and let out a sigh. "At least you guys
didn't make too much noise," I said.

"Then we'll make more next time!" Tommy shouted, jumping on me and doing
his best to tackle me still on his adrenaline high from the festivities. By
this time his accent had diminished some, but was still noticeable enough
to make him popular at school because of it. I figured he would have girls
swooning over him in no time.

If he liked girls, that is. I started picking up the debris that now
littered my house when Tommy came up and hugged my crouched frame from
behind. His hand brushed against me through my pants, and I had a feeling
it wasn't an accident. I looked at him questioningly, a bit apprehensive.

"I saw the way you were looking at my friends," he said, sliding
closer. "Men used to look at me that way in Russia, but they don't any
more. Why don't you look at me like that?"

"B-because you're my son," I stammered, rolling over to sit on the
floor. He followed me.

"And you're my dad and I love you. I want to prove it." He reached a hand
out right for my crotch, grasping and undoing the button and zipper on my
pants. I nervously glanced around, knowing full well that no one could see
us from where we sat beside the kitchen table but still expecting someone
to be there and immediately run and tell the police. There was no one.

Tommy reached into my boxers and grabbed my already stiff cock, which at
its current length of 7.5 inches (~20cm) was nothing special but still got
the job done. He caressed it lovingly through the zipper before taking
charge and sliding my pants and boxers down to mid-thigh and, without
hesitation, bent down and took me into his little mouth. Any reservations I
had up to that point were gone.

Although he could only reach his mouth about halfway down my shaft before
gagging, he made up for it by sliding his hand up and down the rest and
because of the fact that this was the first time my fantasy of a boy
sucking me off had come true.

I tried to hold out as long as possible, but with the already pent-up
feelings from the party and the complete sexiness of the situation I only
went for a couple of minutes. What finally ended me was Tommy looking up
into my blue eyes with his bright green ones and locking my gaze as he
sucked.

I groaned and let loose, forgetting for a moment that it was my son down at
the end of my rod. The first few jets of cum went into his mouth, but he
pulled back after a second and let the rest hit him in the face. His
beautiful face, which I had already dreamed about countless times, now
looked a hundred times better dripping with my cum. I resolved that he
would look like that as often as I could possibly stand.

Trying to catch my breath, Tommy started giggling and poking at the sticky
fluid that now coated his face. I watched him for a while and smiled,
coming down from the afterglow and thinking it couldn't possibly get any
better. They soon did when Tommy said, "Now you do me!" and began to strip
right in front of me.

Of course I had seen him in just his underwear a bunch of times since we
were two guys living together, and that was bad enough temptation as it
was. Now, all bets were off. This is what he wanted? Great. I was going to
give it to him.

I had some cock-sucking experience from back in college, so I prepared
myself anxiously as Tommy took his clothes off to give the best performance
of my thirty-year-old life. He finally slid his pants down and kicked them
off, his little 2 inch (~5cm), uncut erection bobbing in anticipation. He
folded his hands back behind him and stuck out his pelvis a little to give
me better access, so I leaned forward and decided to tease him a bit before
I really got into it. I ran my hands along his hairless chest and stomach,
reveling in the silky smoothness of his skin and kissing along his
thighs. He sighed, and I took that as a good sign to move closer to my
prize.

I rolled back his foreskin to reveal the tiny, purplish head that rested
behind it and started flicking at the knob with the tip of my tongue. His
young cock was obviously sensitive and he jumped at every pass, shutting
his eyes and beginning to breath more heavily. I reached a hand around and
grabbed him around the wrists so that he couldn't move his arms and went to
work, sucking his little toy into my mouth easily and swishing my tongue
over the responsive head. He started moaning lightly and, grinning evilly
to myself, I backed off and went back to kissing around the base and his
tiny nutsack. He let out a gasp of protest and tried lightly to move his
hands away, but I squeezed them back and he didn't protest. His dick
bounced a few times, begging me to come back, and I did right as he was
beginning to soften again.

Rather than just holding my mouth over his little tool and letting my
tongue do all of the work, I went down and bobbed my head the little bit
that was necessary to stimulate each of the 2 inches (5cm). He opened his
eyes this time and watched me, and I looked back to gauge his
response. Right as I saw his gaze start to go lax, I let off again abruptly
and went up to kiss and suckle the tiny nipples that had been tempting me
all this time. He whimpered a bit when I stopped again but didn't protest,
obviously enjoying the game as much as I was. Again, his cock jumped up and
down to get my attention but I ignored it.

I repeated the process twice more, and with each go it took Tommy less time
to get to an almost orgasm before I would back off and go back to kissing
or rubbing his chest. Still my hand kept his clamped behind his back,
rendering him useless to spur on the source of the sexual urges that were
building up inside of him. I went back in for one more round, deciding that
I had been mean enough after he had been more than generous enough to me. I
rolled back the foreskin and once again teased the head, which by now
twitched every time I took a swipe at it with my tongue. I sucked him back
into my mouth and went at it, bouncing my head and eliciting moans from the
small boy in front of me. To my surprise, Tommy called out "I'm gonna cum!"
in a strained voice before his entire body spasmed in one of the powerful
dry orgasms that grace preadolescents. I kept sucking until his knees went
out from under him and I reached out to catch him and stop his knees from
hitting hard on the tile floor.

He slowly regained his breath and smiled broadly at me, his face covered in
my now partially dry offering, before he grabbed me around the neck and
hugged me. I hugged him back for a while, then suggested, "We should go get
cleaned up. Want to shower together?"

"Yeah!" he called, running off to the bathroom to start the water and
leaving me to pick up his discarded clothes. He waited for me to get
undressed and we hopped into the shower together, standing under the warm
water and getting the soap ready. It took longer than showers should since
I was in the presence of a gorgeous, naked, and willing boy and he still
had that youthful rejuvenation that allowed him to be horny at a moment's
notice. We each came one more time, this time by a handjob format he other,
before turning off the water, toweling dry, and heading to bed.

Tommy followed me into my room, asking, "Dad, is it okay it I sleep with
you tonight?"

"Of course! Hop on in." He did and I shut the bedside lamp off and we
snuggled together, still nude, his bare back and bottom pressed up to my
chest and stomach. He was out in no time, leaving me with my thoughts.

I had extremely mixed emotions about the whole thing. Here I was trying to
be a good father and taking in this little Russian boy who, unknown to me
until just an hour ago, had apparently been sexually used back in his home
country, and I'm doing the same to him. What if I get caught? What if it
scars him for the rest of his life and he can't live with himself?

I put my arm around him and, through his sleepy stupor, he clutched my arm
back and nestled in even closer to me.

No. This is love. This is good. If this is not how things are meant to be,
some heartless piece of shit will have to come pry him from my cold, dead
hands. We are both the happiest we have ever been, and if this is wrong
then nothing in the world is right. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on
my face and a boy in my arms.

To be continued.