Date: Mon, 09 Jun 2014 01:54:28 -0500
From: happynudist@vfemail.net
Subject: TUCSON Chapter 1

Hey there Niftyistas! My name is Monty and I'm a new Nifty author.
This is my first submission! If you like it, please let me know at my
email, happynudist@vfemail.net. I would love some feedback.

This is the first chapter of TUCSON, a gay adult-youth story, and what
I hope will be a pretty extensive little tale. Please remember that
this only happens because of Nifty, and give generously and often!
Also, this if fiction, so don't get up to any illegal shenanigans in
real life you naughty boys and girls. Keep your hands inside the car
at all times:)


TUCSON

WE BOUNCED along the rutted dirt road, the springs on my rugged little
Toyota pickup working overtime, as they did every day. At the wash,
the bottom sand was still damp from last evening's monsoon. I powered
up the other side of the arroyo and back onto the long slope of desert
floor, winding along between the juniper bushes, an occasional sagauro
cactus breaking up the emptiness. As we got closer to the range, pinon
started to appear, darker green and taller than the juniper. The
mountain loomed ahead, and the shining roof of the casita could just
be seen in the distance.

Next to me, the boy was silent, but he was watching me out of the
corner of his eye. I caught him staring and turned to him, giving him
a smile.

"Do you have a wife?"

"No."

"Are you a homo?"

I figured that this was a discussion we were going to have to have,
but I had expected for it to wait at least until we got to the casita.

"Would that bother you?"

"No way. I know lots of homos."

I turned my attention away from the dirt road for a minute, looking at
the boy, trying to detect a note of sarcasm, or disdain, or really any
emotion. Instead, what I got was a beautifully innocent face broken by
a lascivious grin. I swear, the kid was leering at me. The truck
jarred and I turned back to the road. Then I felt him move his hand
right up next to mine, where it sat on the gear shifter. Without
actually touching my skin, he ran his hand up the length of my
forearm, brushing my arm hair with the tips of his fingers. It was a
wholly, remarkably erotic act. I turned back to him. The corners of
his full, red lips turned up even further. Then he let out a short
little bark of a laugh and turned back toward the windshield. The
little shit was playing with me.

"Is that your house? What the fuck are we gonna do for fun way out here?"

*     *     *

Foster dad. That's what I had signed up for. Three months after I'd
arrived in Tucson I'd gone online and found out the basic facts. Yes,
single adults could be foster parents. You had to pass a background
criminal check. You had to be financially stable. You had to have a
bedroom for the kid. That's what they cared about.

I more than qualified.

Landing in Arizona had been like landing on the moon. I'd never been
west of New Orleans. From my childhood in Georgia, being raised by
grandparents whose idea of travel was driving to Palm Beach for the
summer, I'd gone directly to MIT, and from there to AgroParisTech for
my environmental science masters, then Cambridge, to St. Edmund's for
my PhD. I knew that if I had decided to teach, that with the limited
openings in academia I was likely to end up in some remote corner, but
the Sonoran desert was as weird a landscape as I could imagine. It was
also achingly beautiful.

I'd spent the spring semester teaching a compressed biology course and
exploring the harsh desert landscape, on horseback and in my 4WD
pickup. Since I was putting together an undergrad class on the ecology
of the Southwest, I knew I needed to find some good locations for
field work, and I had fallen in love with the harsh landscape, with
its many prickly and dangerous animals, its tough, efficient flora,
its dry hot air.

The casita had been built by an architecture prof at the University
who had taken a position at Santa Cruz and offered it to me for rent.
It was a straw bale house, with an overhanging metal roof, built in
the traditional Southwest fashion of pine poles, vigas and latillas,
thick plastered walls, cool tile floors. Three bedrooms, two baths, a
large open living room with french doors onto a deep covered porch,
and not a right angle in the place. The xeriscaped yard was filled
with a wide collection of native plants, to which I added, and the
whole place was a model of solar-powered low energy intelligent desert
living. The one luxury was the small, cool swimming pool and adjoining
hot tub, a perfect place to float out under the stars on a warm desert
night, the lights of Tucson twinkling a half hour away in the distance.

Still, it was empty and alone and I'd long thought about being a
foster father. Hell, I'd planned it for as soon as I could finish my
schooling and strike out on my own. I wasn't ever going to have kids
of my own, and there were plenty of troubled boys out there that could
use a stable environment and the support of a loving adult in their
life.

Of course, I also wanted to fuck them.

I'd been into boys since puberty, naturally. Despite being raised by
strict Southern Baptists, by the age of fourteen I'd realized a few
things. I loved boys. This was how I was made, and it wasn't going to
change. There was nothing wrong or unnatural with me. And religion was
a joke. Figuring out my nature had led me into my fascination with the
sciences, especially with biology and the way living things evolved,
including humans. I knew that my desires were a natural variation,
somewhat unusual but common enough to the species, and quite set in my
biology. I accepted it and went on, knowing I was a good person and I
would never hurt anyone. Luckily I was also attracted to twinky young
men my age, as well as to some cute girls, and when I escaped to
college, I was able to find some of both who turned me on. Still, when
I closed my eyes it was boys that filled my thoughts, especially boys
right around the age of puberty. The highlight of my sex life so far
had been getting a sloppy but energetic blow job from a fourteen year
old French boy in the dunes behind a nude beach in Languedoc.

Gay boys liked me. I was a big, beefy tall fair-skinned man of 27,
with a short, trimmed beard and a big chest and arms. I worked out,
ate well, and ticked off the "beefy American" box without ever
becoming fat, while I plowed my way through college in Europe. But no
matter how many slim, hairless young men I could get to swing off my
seven inch dick, I still lusted for younger boys at heart.

And more than lust. I loved the sound of their voices. I loved their
natural, unabashed physicality with each other. I loved their wonder
and excitement at the world. Yes, I wanted to fuck them, but I wanted,
more so, to be with them. That's why I decided to be a foster dad. I
knew that touching the boys I might host would be a very bad idea, and
it could only happen if the circumstances were exactly right. But I
figured it would be enough to have a boy, or boys, in my life. Just to
be around them would be satisfying, and to take care of them, to
protect and nurture and guide them, was something I felt in my bones I
should be doing.

That's why I stepped up for foster parenting.

The licensing agency I chose said that they welcomed single people and
"LGBT families". I went to the orientations. My case worker, Marcia,
visited out at the casita and interviewed me several times. She said
that because I was willing to take older boys, she should have no
problem placing kids with me. She was frank about the challenges
involved. "Some of these kids have seen a lot of abuse and insecurity.
They act out. They try and test your limits. You have to have the
patience of Job."

A few weeks after we'd completed all the byzantine paperwork, Marcia
called me and asked me to meet her for coffee just off campus. She was
a frumpy older woman in a peasant skirt and too much turquoise
jewelry, but she had been in the foster game a long time.

"I may have a boy that I think might be a fit for you."

"OK. What's his story?"

"He's ten. He's in a group home now, but he's having some trouble and
he needs to be back in a home foster situation. His mother is in
prison and isn't coming out anytime soon. There's no dad in the
picture, and any potential family is in Mexico and out of touch, so
you don't have to worry about visitation. I have to warn you though.
He's been in three different foster homes, and it hasn't worked out."

I felt a rising apprehension. Though I wanted desperately to help heal
a broken boy, I knew that compassion had its limits. I wasn't ready to
open my home to a budding sociopath. Marcia could read my face.

"He's a good kid. He's not angry or violent. It's just..." The corners
of her mouth turned down in a contemplative frown. "He's, well, in a
previous foster placement he was sexually abused. Then, in this latest
placement, he acted out. Sexually. He was, um, inappropriate with the
foster parent's son. We can't place him in any home with other
children. He needs to only be around adults for now. We have him in
counseling for his behavior. But you will have to be strict with him,
and make sure he doesn't act out again. There was a complaint at this
school as well, and they don't want him back in September. You don't
live near that school anyway, so if it works out long term you will
have to enroll him in a new school."

I told myself to look appropriately pensive and concerned, while in
fact, the way she was discussing this boy and his "acting out" was
tingling my balls. I knew I could never show it though. I needed to be
very careful about what I said next.

"You know, Marcia, I didn't talk to you about this, but when I was a
boy, I was, touched inappropriately, by a youth leader at my church. I
had to deal with this myself. With counseling and the support of my
parents I worked through it. But I know first hand how confusing this
could be to a boy. You blame yourself, and you don't know how to act,
how to control the feelings that something like this awakens. It's not
easy. One of the reasons I want to do this is because I know that
there are other kids out there who are in pain, like I was."

All of this was a lie, but it elicited exactly the sympathetic
response I wanted from Marcia. I wasn't happy to lie to her, but
unfortunately the truth was not acceptable in our particular society.
I simply loved boys, and I wanted to be around them.

"So, do you think that you might be up for giving it a try?"

I did my best to appear non-committal.

"Well... I guess I could do a trial run. If you think we might be a fit,
then I'd be willing. But if it doesn't work out, that would be OK?"

"I don't want to bounce him around, Leo."

"I know. Well, I'll try."

"Good!"

*     *     *

He was standing in the sun in front of the sterile brick sprawl of the
group home, in a pair of stiff new jeans, a long sleeved black polo
shirt buttoned to the neck, and faded white sneakers. Marcia was at
his side, holding one sad looking duffel bag. When Marcia said he was
named Gabriel Sanchez, I had seen in my mind's eye a fat, round-faced
latino indio boy. It would have been a bit of a relief, because as
much as I hated to say it, I wasn't attracted to chubby boys. I had
been chubby, the fat melting off me when I wrestled and lifted weights
in High School. Maybe that's why they didn't appeal to me. However,
this boy was slender. And he was beautiful from fifty paces.

Gabriel's hair was too long, hanging over his ears and in his eyes. It
was black as the desert night, and perfectly straight and thick. Under
the hair looked up a pair of shockingly light hazel eyes, separated by
the bridge of a slim button nose. A deep philtrum divided a hairless
upper lip, and the lips themselves were rich red, framing a large
mouth of bright white teeth. I instantly and without hesitation
thought "cocksucker lips" and almost blushed as the image raced
through my head.

His face was round, but not chubby, with a well defined chin set above
a long, slender neck with no trace of an ungainly apple. Although he
was almost entirely covered in the July heat, I could tell that he had
a slender, well made body. The shirt was a bit baggy on him but the
outline was clear. Maybe most spectacular was his skin tone. There's
lots of words that get used to describe the tone of Latin boys.
Bronze, leather, café au lait. Gabriel was clearly latino but he was
also clearly part European, and there was one word to really capture
the lovely tawny mouth-watering color of his cheeks.

Honey.

I took the sunglasses from the pocket of my work shirt and, faking a
squint against the sun, slid them on. Thank god for them, lest I not
be able to tear my eyes from that remarkable face.

"Gabriel, this is Leo Marcus. He's going to be fostering you for a while."

"Hey Gabriel." I held out my hand like a man. He looked at me for a
second and slid one small paw into mine, the long, slim fingers hardly
grasping while I gave him a firm squeeze, the dead fish handshake of a
boy whose father never taught him the ritual. The boy looked at me
then, right in the face, with an inquisitive stare, trying to evaluate
me. I dropped his hand.

"Gabriel, do you have everything? All your stuff? You won't be coming
back" Marcia prodded him.

"Yeah, that's what they said last time." His voice was pre-pubescent,
high and fine, with just th slightest trace of a latino accent, set
off with a sarcastic toughness. This was a wary kid.

"Well, Gabriel, that's why it's important to make this work. Leo is
opening his home and I know how much he want's you to be at home there
as well. You will have to work with him, though. Remember, you're
wanted here."

The boy gave me a skeptical look and scoffed. "Yeah?" I stared right
back at him. "Yeah. Now let's stop standing in the sun and get out of
here kid." Right from the beginning I was going to lay down the tone.
I was a no nonsense guy and he wasn't going to pull anything over on
me. The kid was cynical, you could see it in his lovely hazel eyes.
Well, I could be cynical too.

I took the duffel from Marcia. It was light. The kid had nothing in
the world. I said my goodbyes while the boy waited silently, then
turned and headed to to truck, expecting him to follow. Marcia said a
few last words to him, he shook is head in agreement, and with the
slouch that defiant boys have evolved over the millennia, he deigned
to walk over to my truck and climb into the passenger seat, strapping
his thin frame in, the seatbelt across his neck. He was so small, and
adorable, and heart-breakingly sexy.

"Cocksucker lips" I thought to myself.

*     *     *

So we bounced across the desert. The casita hove into view, and I
pulled up in front of the weathered pine turquoise-colored double
doors and left the truck in the dirt drive. There was a small garage
and workshop off to the left for when sandstorms appeared, but I
usually didn't use it. Gabriel climbed out and stepped onto the brick
front porch. I grabbed his bag from the back and yelled "hey". When he
turned around I tossed it to him. The boy was going to look after
himself here.

I unlocked the front doors and we went in. Just inside the door I
activated the cooler, keeping the house comfortable against the
ferocious summer. Down the short tiled hallway was the main room, an
open kitchen to the right done in bright Mexican tiles. There was a
long, heavy rough oak dining table, and to the left was the low
leather couch, facing the wide screen TV mounted on the wall, a
brick-framed kiva fireplace dormant in the corner. Direct ahead was a
wall of glass looking onto the wide shaded back porch, and further
along down a few steps was the desert garden, with the pool and hot
tub at the bottom next to the low adobe retaining wall.

"No way! You have a pool! I love swimming! Can I go in!" In a flash
the surly young man was gone and a ten year old boy was beaming at me,
practically levitating with excitement.

"Do you know how?" I might as well asked him if he knew how to tie his
own shoes, from the look of disbelief he gave me.

"I was on the swim team at my last fosters! I bet I can swim faster than you!"

"OK, but let me show you your room first."

I had prepared one of the two extra bedrooms for Gabriel. There was a
double bed with brand new sheets and blankets in deep blue, and I had
placed my old iMac on the desk, all set up and ready to go.

"You got me a computer?"

"It's my old one, but you can use it."

"It has internet?"

"Yes."

"Awesome! Is it restricted?"

"What do you mean?"

"The computers at the home, they are, like, restricted from lots of sites."

"Hum. Well, no, I won't restrict it. But you aren't allowed to erase
your browser history, and I can check it out whenever I want." Gabriel
smiled a conspiratorial smile.

"OK." He threw his bag on the bed. "Now can I swim?"

"Yes, you have a suit?"

"Do I have to wear one?" The boy looked at me, and I swear he batted
his eyelids and gave me a wicked smile.

"Yes. If you don't have one I will get you one."

"It's OK, I have one."

"OK, then change and I'll see you out there. You aren't allowed to
swim unless I'm in the back yard with you."

"Cool."

I shut the door behind me, and wondered if I had time to jerk my crank
before meeting Gabriel out by the pool. I felt like I was ready to
pop, but I took a few deep breaths and went down the hall to change
into my own suit. I put on my tight speedo from Paris first, to hold
everything in place, and then slid on some baggy board shorts and
headed out the sliding door off my room to the patio. It was warm but
nice in the shade as I hit the switch to roll back the cover of the
pool, but as I stepped to the top step the sun hit me hard, and I
picked up the sunblock that I kept on the shelf next to the built in
bar-be-que. I took off my shirt and started rubbing it on my chest and
shoulders. When I heard the door slide open and shut I turned around
and Gabriel stepped into the sun.

He was wearing the tightest little black speedos imaginable. His black
bangs hung in this eyes, but through the hair I could tell he was
watching me for a reaction. I guess he liked what he saw, because
after a moment he smiled and ran down the steps, grabbing this well
outlined package and pulling the nylon out over it.

"These things are too tight, man."

"Are they?"

"I've had them since I was nine at my last fosters. That was like, a
year ago when I was on the swim team."

"You're not on the swim team now?"

"Naw, the group home don't do that shit."

"Doesn't."

"Doesn't what?"

"The group home doesn't do that shit."

Gabriel let out a defensive tisk at the correction and stepped up onto
the edge of the pool. The hot cement didn't seem to phase him. He
walked along the very edge, holding his thin arms out, palms flat, for
balance. He completed one full circumcision of the kidney-shaped pool,
walking the narrow brick barrier between the pool and hot tub. As he
made to dive in I said "wait". When he turned around I threw him the
sunscreen. He caught it deftly with a smile that said, at least in my
imagination, "oh, I bet you want to see me all greased up". And he
proceeded to squirt an obscene dollop of white goo across his chest
and belly.

Gabriel didn't have an ounce of fat on him, but he wasn't skinny in
the way of some boys, who look like they had been stretched on a rack.
His body was solid and tight, with every muscle moving clearly under
his honey skin. His chest was flat but nicely defined, with little
inverted W's of skin folds at his armpits and penny-sized dark red
leatherish nipples, bigger than most boys. His belly was a rippling
mass of toned muscle, and as he twisted to apply the lotion to his
arms he put on a hell of a show of fine definition. His hips were
narrow, and the pubic bones formed a fantastic V into the top of his
tiny suit. His package was big for his size, nestled between long,
thin colt's thighs, which lightened considerably above his knee,
obviously from wearing shorts in the Arizona sun, turning almost white
where they met the snug black suit. He had no visible veins except at
his neck and wrists, which were so fine and narrow it almost scared
me. I could probably close my thumb and index finger around his wrists
or ankles. He was a fine-boned round-faced shaggy-headed boy with a
too large mouth and pearly white teeth and hazel brown eyes and honey
skin.

I stepped up and held out my hand, and Gabriel, with a saucy look,
squirted a big dollop onto my fingers. I reached around and started
oiling his back. Every bone of his spine made a beautiful little
hillock of honey flesh, and I smeared the lotion across the back of
his rib cage and down that lovely valley to the top of his ass, daring
to go no further.

Now that he was out of the stiff new jeans, I could really appreciate
Gabriel's most stand out feature. And stand out it did. The boy's ass
punched out like a shelf you could leave your drink on. It was round,
it was tiny, and yes, it was a bubble butt, forming a perfect sphere
before it met back with the vertical line of his thighs. His entire
torso seemed to twist, thrusting his chest forward and his ass back in
a sinewy S of sexy boy. I could feel my bone growing despite the two
layers and tossing aside the plastic bottle of sunscreen, I threw
myself into the cool pool with a splash. Before I had time to surface
I felt the concussion of Gabriel striking the water next to me.

He surfaced with a delighted giggle and immediately splashed me, a
splash that earned a big return. We fought back and forth for a few
minutes, and then he took off, enjoying the feeling of slicing through
the water, at one point swimming between my legs, and then he started
climbing out of the pool, standing on the edge, his honey body beaded
with moisture, before diving in over and over, in the inexhaustible
and obsessive way that boys do when they find something that gives
them pleasure. I took a few dives and settled in on the shelf in the
deep end to watch the show, my bone stiff in my shorts. Gabriel was
lost on his pleasure, but eventually he tired a swam over to join me
on the narrow ledge, his leg brushing against mine.

"This is the best foster."

"Just because of the pool?"

"Naw, just because it's just guys, no bitches."

"That's not a polite term."

"Man, I don't care. I never had luck living with bitches. They hate me."

"I'm sure not all women hate you."

"Fuck you know?"

I realized I'd be fighting an uphill battle against Gabriel's mouth,
and frankly, it was kinda cute and I myself cursed fluently, so I let
it go.

"I know that there's no reason you can't have a woman foster. I mean,
I like it being all guys too..."

"I bet you do!" this said with a sarcastic leer, which earned him a
glare, to which he responded by turning his head down and mumbling.

"Bitches have never done nothing but let me down." For a moment, the
bravado was gone and he was a lost boy. It was my chance to get inside.

"Tell me how." Gabriel hesitated and searched my face to make sure I
was sincere.

"Well, first there was my moms. She was a whore."

"That's not a nice thing to say about your mom."

"I don't mean it like, to be mean. She was a real actual whore, not
like a, what you call it, allegorical whore." I let out an
unintentional laugh, and Gabriel glared at me this time, sensitive to
being mocked. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's just a funny word. I wasn't laughing at you." He relaxed.

"So she was a whore. Like, she came here when she was fifteen, but she
was a whore even before that in Mexico. So when she crossed she worked
in this motel by the Davis military base. That's when she got pregnant
with me. Like, she didn't even know who my dad was cuz she fucked so
many guys. Like, you can tell he wasn't no nigger or chink..."

"Gabriel."

"Yeah I know I'm supposed to say africanamerican or asianamerican, but
like you can tell it wasn't none of those and I don't think it was
like a real latino, like no mexicano, cuz I'm way lighter than she
was. She's dusky. Anyways after she had me we moved to the barrio cuz
she couldn't work the motel and she was like, with an escort service.
She would leave me with this really old neighbor woman and go do her
tricks but then she met this pendejo named Victor who was like this
big drug dealer tarado. She was all in love with him but he had lots
of bitches and she started holding for him and dealing and then that's
when she was arrested and she wouldn't testify and got fifteen years
cuz it was heavy weight. That was when I was six.

So they took me to the group home but only for like a day and then
they sent me to my first foster. It was good there, they didn't have
no other kids and they totally were like, doting on me. And then..." A
pensive look came across Gabriel's face and he fell silent, looking
down at the shimmering surface of the water. The sun was approaching
its horizon behind the mountains and the shadows were lengthening
towards the casita across the sloped desert floor.

"What is it Gabriel?"

"Um. Your a gay, right?"

I leaned back and considered the question. I had known the boy for a
couple of hours, and I felt like we were hurtling towards a precipice.
It was exhilarating but fraught with danger.

"Yes, Gabriel, I'm gay. Why?"

"So... is it OK if I, like, talk about sex stuff with you?"

"You can talk about anything that you feel like you want to talk to me
about, Gabriel. There's no need for secrets with you."

"OK." I could tell that Gabriel, his tough boy exterior aside, was
nervous. He flipped his long wet hair out of his eyes.

"So I can talk about sex stuff with you for reals?"

"Like I said... anything."

"Well, at that first fosters my foster dad, he taught me lots of sex
stuff. Like he taught me to jerk it and sucked me and stuff. He taught
me to suck him off, like, really good and deep even though I was still
little. He didn't fuck me, but he played with my butt and licked it
and stuff. I really liked it and I started to get horny all the time.
So like, I would try and get him to do it a lot, even though he said
that like, we could only do it when my foster mom wasn't there but I
wanted to get him to do it like, even when she was asleep and stuff so
he would come in my room at night and do sex stuff with me. I really
liked it but then my bitch foster mom caught him with me sucking his
dick and she screamed and hit him and called the police so they
arrested him and they sent me back to the group home. I was there for
like three months, and that time I got to do sex stuff with the older
boys and that's like, the first time I did fucking for real.

So then these other foster parents came and took me home. They were
like really religious. He was a pastor and we had to pray like ten
times a day and go to church for four hours and stuff. They had three
daughters but no boys and all the girls were bitches and the mom was a
super bitch. So one night I was jackin' it in my bedroom after the
bath and fingering my hole and I saw the dad and he was like, right
outside my window watching me and I could tell he was jackin' it.
Which was funny cuz there was like this big cactus right outside the
window and I dunno how he didn't get pricks in his prick hahaha!"
Gabriel's laugh was high and lovely and infectious. I chuckled along,
mesmerized by his crude but heartfelt story.

"So I knew he wanted to do sex stuff with me and I tried to get him to
do it but he was always uptight and he wouldn't ever be alone with me
or touch me or anything. So then not long later my bitch foster
sisters caught me jerking it hard in the bathroom and she freaked out
and they sent me back to the group home, which sucked cuz I didn't
even do nothing but after like three more months then my last foster
parents took me. They were pretty chill and everything and I liked
them. They got me into swimming and soccer and shit and the dad was
cool. I could tell he wasn't gay or nothing but they had a son, like a
real son, you know? He was fifteen and he was into me so I got him to
start doing sex. He liked it a lot. He like, he was kind of a nerd and
didn't really have any friends so I became like his friend and we
would do it after school when they were still at work but one day the
mom caught us and even though she'd been super nice she totally turned
into a superbitch and she called me a little faggot and they took me
back to the group home. That was last year."

Gabriel fell silent. I could tell he'd unburdened himself and was a
bit sheepish about it. He'd worked hard to develop a tough exterior
but he seemed almost on the edge of tears. I put my arm across his
narrow bony shoulders.

"That sucks Gabriel. But you can't hate all women. Most people, they
think it's wrong for kids your age to have sex, and so when they see
it they don't know how to act."

"I know. It's just, like bitches, I mean women, they must hate sex."

"Well, no, that's not true. I've known plenty of women who loved sex."

"Really? Did you, um, do it with them?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were maricón, you player!" Gabriel gave me a playful
shove and I shoved him back, knocking him off the ledge. He swam
around for a minute, repeatedly diving down to the bottom of the pool,
each time showing me his magnificent black nylon-clad ass. He held his
breath, staying down as long as he could, then came back over to the
ledge and resumed his place next to me, panting from the effort.

"Can I ask you a question, Gabriel?"

"Sure, blanco."

"Do you still do sex stuff?"

He looked off into the middle distance, thinking for a moment.

"You won't be mad?"

"No."

"I get super super horny all the time. Like, my ass just hurts, like
it itches, and I get boners and all I can think about is guys and
their cocks and stuff. I'll like, they say that I'm like a hard core
bottom bitch. Like I can't get it enough." Gabriel's honey cheeks
flashed red with embarrassment at this inability to control his libido.

"And what do you do when you get like that?"

"I do it with the older boys at the group home. They really like to
fuck me. Like, not all of them do it with me, because some of them are
into Jesus and shit, but there's like, eleven dudes who will do it.
They have boys up to fourteen there so some of them, they are like,
almost men. Their dicks, you know? They cum a lot and everything."

"How often does this happen?"

"It happens um, every day usually."

I thought about the reality of getting fucked by different boys every
day. My dick was as hard as steel, straining against the confines of
its nylon case. I reached down and surreptitiously adjusted myself but
Gabriel seemed to notice and a slight smile passed over his lovely lips.

"I don't know what I'm going to do man. I think you'll have to like,
get me dildo or something, cuz there's no way I can go back to just
jerkin' it and fingering my hole. I need way more than that. Would you
do that?"

"Hunh, what?" I'd been lost in some vulgar thoughts.

"Would you, you know, buy me a dildo so I can keep my asshole happy?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

Gabriel grew quiet for a moment. He kicked out into the middle of the
pool, floating on his back, staring up at the sky, the water running
off his magnificent torso. The sun had gone behind the peaks and the
casita was in shadow, one of my favorite times of day. Gabriel floated
for a while, eyes closed, as I watched him, and then he shot up, as if
he had made up his mind. He swam back over to the shelf, and this time
he climbed up next to me on his knees, facing me.

"What kind of gay are you?"

"What do you mean, Gabriel? Gay means I like guys more than girls."

"Yeah, but there's two kinds of gays. There's gays dudes who are into
gay dudes. I mean like older dudes. I'm one of those, cuz I like men
more than boys my age. Even at the group home I always fucked the 8th
graders mostly cuz they were the oldest, and like, I wanted to fuck
this one counselor but he wasn't into gay stuff. So that's the one
type, and then there's the other type."

"What's the other type?"

"Gays who like boys, stupid! Like my old foster dad, and foster
brother and other gay guys. There's lots of gay guys who um, they want
to fuck me and I can tell. Like, they check me out around town and
stuff. The coach on my swim team, I could tell he wanted to do it with
me but I had to quit. So what kind of gay are you?"

"I'm..."

The moment of truth.

"I guess you could say I'm both."

"Woo-hoo!" Gabriel let out a yelp and threw himself on me, wrapping
his arms around my neck and hugging me as tight as he could. He
whispered in my ear. "I could tell."

"Gabriel, what do you think that means?"

"It means you don't have to get me a dildo."

Before I could react, the boy had reached down and grabbed my erection
through the material of my two swim suits. With one slick motion he
slid onto my thighs, pressing his crotch against my bone while his
hand rubbed it, and coming face to face with me. He looked straight at
me, and I disappeared into his deep hazel eyes. Then, before I knew it
he was leaning in and kissing me, his tongue sliding into my mouth
without hesitation. His slick tight little belly rubbed against my
chest. He slid up and down against me, finally resting his ass right
against my boner.

"Gabriel. Slow down." I pushed him away, gently, and he floated out in
front of me in the water.

"Why? What's wrong? Don't you want to be gay with me?"

"Gabriel... you have to remember, I'm your new foster dad. It's my job
to take care of you. I don't, I don't think..."

"You need to take care of me! I'm horny! I need that to be taken care of!"

"Gabriel, if... if we do this, you need to understand. I'm still your
foster dad. I'm still, I'm responsible for you." I couldn't articulate
the conflicting emotions that were coursing through me. "Are you, are
you sure you want to do this?"

The boy looked at me, wet hair in his eyes, with a look that
approached pity. How could an adult be so stupid? He swam back up to
the ledge and stood up on it next to me. The water came to just above
his knees. With both hands he reached down to his hips and carefully
pulled his too small speedo out and down over his erection. His cock
stood straight up at a 45 degree angle, stiff as marble, the rosy pink
head peaking through the red clans. It was maybe a hair under three
inches long, sticking out from the tight little sack of his
undescended balls, no trace of pubes yet. With a practiced motion he
licked his forefinger and thumb on his right hand and reached down to
slide his foreskin back. The boy was a living picture of childhood
sexuality. Anyone looking at him there, nylon bunched across his pale
thighs, erection thrust forward, lust written on his face, would have
to admit that the idea that children weren't sexual was total and
utter horseshit.

"Leo. I need help. It gets like this, and I need you to help it be
satisfied. That's how you can, you know, take care of me."

In one motion I was on my feet, lifting him into my arms. He wrapped
his long legs around my waist and I stepped up out of the pool. He
couldn't weigh more than 80 pounds. I carried him across the yard and
up the stairs and across the porch, kicking open the door to my room
with my toe. I threw the boy down on my bed with an explosion of
giggles and reached over him, ripping the black nylon suit down his
legs, over his beautiful feet, the soles pale white, and threw it to
the floor. I then fell to my knees on the floor, grabbed him by his
thighs and pulled him to the edge of the bed before slurping his cock
violently into my mouth. My need was desperate, and I sucked hard. I
darted my tongue up and down the little shaft and out across the tight
sack with its cherry seeds, then back up his length, going to work on
his tip, flipping the foreskin back and forward with my tongue.

"Fuck papi. Fuck! Oh man, oh, that's so good. Suck my cock man."
Listening to the high pitched little boy voice urge me own with such
filth was too much. I was in a frenzy. With my free hands I
desperately yanked down my two pair of swimsuits and grabbed my cock.
Gabriel was writhing and humping under my tongue. I couldn't hold it a
second longer. I stood up, threw my crotch forward, stroked my cock
three lightning fast times, and started spurting.

The first squirt of jizz shot right onto Gabriel's chin, neck and
chest, surprising him. It was a massive load. I hadn't come in days.
The second load plopped out onto his superb tight brown belly. For the
third, the boy threw himself forward into a jackknife with the speed
that only the young had, and as that third stream hit him in his cheek
he adjusted his aim and engulfed my cut cockhead in his warm, sweet
mouth without so much as a touch of teeth. He started suctioning me as
I had suctioned him, drawing spurt after spurt out of my balls and
into his mouth. I must have fired  another three or four shots that he
greedily swallowed. I was whimpering like a puppy, and when the last
one left me I collapsed with a gasp onto the bed with a sigh.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh." The words came out of me in tearing sobs.

"Shhhh. It's OK. It's OK papi. It's OK. It's OK daddy. That was so
good. So yummy." Gabriel slid up next to me. taking my face in his
little hands. He kissed me softly on the lips, and I could taste
myself on him. "That was so hot, daddy. That was what I wanted. I love
doing that. Shhhh. It's OK."

I leaned back as he stroked me gently, trying to wrap my head around
what I had just done. The boy snuggled up next to me, running his
fingers softly across me, through the small whorls of hair on my
chest, down my belly, into my pubes. As my sighs subsided, he pushed
up closer, and I could feel his erection against my side. His little
hand ran up my thigh and wrapped around my still hard cock, and
slowly, he started to stroke my seven inches. I looked down at him
with wonder.

"Now it's my turn." My cock went instantly hard.

"Lube?" Gabriel whispered. I nodded towards the night stand. He rolled
over and fished the slim bottle from the drawer. He fiddled with the
cap, figuring it out, and then he poured some onto his hand and
resumed the position, this time stroking me with some chemical help.
My cock was pulsing with blood, straining to burst with excitement.
Gabriel got up and kneeled between my knees. He poured more lube
directly onto my pale pink head and started jerking me with an expert
two handed motion, looking me in the eyes. Then he poured some more
lube onto his right fingers, and expertly reached behind himself to
apply it to his asshole.

"This is so much better than the group home. We have to use vaseline
and stuff." When he was satisfied, he reached back and continued to
double fisted jerk, speeding up, and then, with a practiced motion he
sprang up, squatted over me, reached down and grabbed my cock in his
right hand, and slowly lowered that perfect pale bubble ass right onto
me. I felt the head find its home at his ring and stop. There was no
way I would fit in him. He let out a sigh, wiggled his ass, and
smoothly pushed down. My head popped right in and the boy sighed a
sigh of contentment. Then he slowly lowered himself unto me, with one
hand on my chest to help hold his weight. He was astonishingly tight
and warm, and I felt my head push past a bit of firmness, at which
point Gabriel let out an involuntary "Unnngghhh" of release. He
stopped about halfway down my staff. I looked at him, he looked at me,
he smiled the wickedest smile to ever cross a boy's lips, and he
thrust himself down to me, his ass slamming against my pubes.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" we both cried. I reached out and took him by
the shoulders, squeezing him. He looked at me with pride. Then,
slowly, he started to ride.

Gabriel couldn't have been more of a pro if he'd been raised in a
greek slave's brothel. He started to work up and down on me, while his
slicked up right hand found his own bone, which hadn't flagged one
degree from its erect angle. He started furiously jerking himself.
This was so hot, I could feel the seed churn in my balls. I had just
come, but the surge was starting again. My breath grew shallow and I
started to thrust my hips up into him, timing with his bounces on me.

"Oh fuck boy. Oh fuck. You are so sexy. You little fucker. So sexy. So
hot. So beautiful. Oh Gabriel. Oh Gabriel! Oh, I've waited, oh, I've
waited so long for this! Oh, so long! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!"

As my thrusts became more urgent, the boy's hand moved into a blur on
his cock. He started to puff his cheeks out and a whine arose from
deep in his narrow, slim little body.

"Unnnnghhh! Unnnnnghhh! That's it daddy! Oh, that's it. Scratch my ass
daddy! I'm so horny! Oh, papi, I need this every day! You have to do
it every day!"

Gabriel's eyes were closed, his back was arching, his fist was flying,
and he was coming. He perfect little penny nipples had popped up like
little mountains. His tight, cut belly was heaving. His graceful neck
was thrown back in ecstasy, and his eyes were screwed shut. I looked
at those pursed cocksucker lips and a great rush of semen squirted
from me in what seemed like one long stream. Gabriel opened his eyes
and his wicked, sexy imp's smile returned.

"Yess!!!" The boy held up his hand. I couldn't believe it, but he
wanted me to high five him. I reached up and slapped his palm with mine.

"Oh man, I came so hard dude! So hard!" Gabriel collapsed against me,
my cock still in him but my spooge leaking out and running down my
balls. "Oh, that totally blew my head off. Dude! Dude!" The boy sat
back up excitedly, bending my cock uncomfortably.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry dude." without a moment's hesitation he pulled up and the
cock snapped out of his hole with a pop, and he settled his tiny
little ass back down on my belly.

"Dude, I came so hard. That was awesome. You were so horny! You
spooged in like three minutes and I thought it was gonna suck but then
you never went down! That was awesome. Some of the boys at the group
home can come twice real fast like that but most of them don't have a
big cock like you and anyway it was awesome. I'm so glad you're gonna
be my new foster dad and you're the right kind of gay."

The little devil laid there with his head on my chest. I could feel
his heart beat. I ran my hands down his back and over his perfect,
firm, round, silky smooth and hairless ass. I could feel a bit of
blood move back towards my cock.

"I'm glad too Gabriel. I'm very glad. You are a very special boy. It's
very special, what we have, this connection. But we need to be very
careful about it. I'm your foster dad. That means I'm responsible for
you. For everything with you. It's not bad, what we did, but... it
doesn't mean that we still don't have to be responsible."

"I know" the boy whispered softly into my chest.

"Most of all, we have to make sure no one knows but us." Gabriel
looked up at me with a "you have got to be kidding me" expression.

"Dude, I been fucking boys at the group home forever and no counselor
ever caught onto that shit. I'm super sneaky, man! No way we gonna get
caught all the way out here by ourselves Leo. Besides, there's one
important thing. Super important."

"What's that?"

"Ain't no bitches out here!" Gabriel jumped up and did a little naked
dance on the bed, a sexy jig.

"NO BITCHES! NO BITCHES! NO BITCHES!" I laughed and pulled him back on
top of me and he hugged me tight.

"I'm so glad there's no bitches, Leo. It's just us gay guys. That's
how it should be. Gay guys, we should only stay with other gay guys.
Other people don't get us."

"I agree Gabriel. I agree."

The boy looked up at me, contentment and mischievousness in his eyes.

"So Leo, do you have any other boyfriends?"

"A boyfriend? No, I'm not dating anyone right now."

"You don't have any other boys like me?"

"Gabriel, you are the only young boy I've ever done stuff with."

"Really!" The boy's eyes popped out. "You've never done other boys my
age and stuff?"

"Nope?"

"Do you want to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to? I mean, like, I can arrange it."

"Gabriel, what are you talking about?"

"Dude, I know every gay boy in Tucson!"

With that, Gabriel exploded in laughter, leapt to his feet, ran out
the open door and across the patio and down into the garden, and with
a satisfied yelp of pleasure he cannonballed into the pool.

"Yippie!"

I stood up and followed him out onto the patio and looked down at the
yard from the top of the steps. It was growing dark. Up on the
mountain, a Coyote howled. I flipped on the pool light switch and it
exploded into turquoise luminescence, a honey brown boy slipping
gracefully through the light.

"Hey Leo!"

"Hey Gabriel!"

"Come wash your cock off in the pool so I can suck it!"


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