Date: Fri, 30 Jul 2004 17:00:34 -0500
From: Dick Hickey <dickhickey@a2zestful.com>
Subject: Rascal Part One

Rascal Part One
Dick Hickey dickhickey@a2zestful.com

(M/M Oral, Anal)

	This is my first submission.  Several more chapters of this
are already in progress.  I've been writing gay male erotica for
several years and I've been published in several gay magazines.
E-mail me for a list if you're interested.  (I don't collect or
distribute e-mail addresses.  I'm not that computer savvy.)
Constructive criticism is welcome, at zestful@myexcel.com.
Mention the title of my story in the Subject line or I might
delete it by accident thinking it's spam.

	Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely
coincicental.  The characters in this story might not practice
safe sex, so you should not imitate their behavior.
Save a life--your own--by practicing safe sex.  If you're not old
enough to read stories involving graphic descriptions of sex
between consenting males, or if such stories are illegal where you
live, do not continue reading beyond this sentence.

Rascal
Discoveries and Dilemmas

	Before I met Bert, I was nothin' but a snot-nosed young punk.
He was my cellmate in prison and one of the War Lords.  He sold my
mouth and ass for cigarettes and favors the whole six years I was
in the Pen.  It was my own sheer stupidity that got me arrested in
the first place.  I let Mall Security set me up.
	Once I was sentenced and incarcerated, I found out that Bert,
my prison protector, was the brother of Kevin, the cop who arrested
me.  When Kevin came to visit, he always asked for me instead of his
brother, because I could do things for him that his brother couldn't
--or wouldn't, maybe.
	Bert might have used me like an adolescent kid uses a cum rag,
but he also told me to get an education while I was penned up--so I
did.  I knew computers, electronics, chips and nanos were the
wave of the future, so I studied up on anything related to them.  CD
players, X-Box, PlayStation.2, digital cameras--anything like that,
I studied.  I got my G.E.D. about a year ago.
	After I made parole, and with the help of Bert and his brother,
I landed a job at The Appliance Emporium--a nationwide chain.
Minimum wage, health benefits and two weeks vacation to start--oh,
and discounts on in-stock appliances.
	So, I had been working for about six months and feeling pretty
good about how well I'd changed my life around.  Kevin still held a
sword over my neck.  He threatened to arrest me again on trumped up
charges if I didn't service him and a few of his friends once in a
while.  But that wasn't often, just uncomfortable and usually
inconvenient.
	I was at work recovering from one of Kevin's mandatory late
nights--early morning actually--when a man named Lyle and his son,
Ryan, came in.  They appeared to be "browsing," so I shadowed them--
staying close but not in their faces--available but not aggressive.
I was reminiscing about the suck-fest I'd had the night before--
thirty-two guys in eight hours--when I heard the father say something.
	"I'd give anything to have one of those," Lyle said.
	I knew he couldn't be talking about the gangbang I was
visualizing in my mind so I looked to see he was admiring a big-
screen plasma TV.
	"Be careful," I admonished.
	"Whaddya mean?"
	"Remember the tale of Salome?  The king granted her any
wish she wanted if she would perform the dance of the seven veils
for him and she asked for the head of John the Baptist."
	"Oh, Yeah" Lyle said.
	After a thoughtful moment, Ryan said, "And Rumplestiltskin!"
	We two adults looked down at the diminutive 14-year-old
quizzically.
	"Well, he made a bargain with the miller's daughter that
if he taught her how to spin straw into gold, she had to give
him her first born male child."
	"Oh, I see.  Yes, another example of making a bargain you
really don't want to keep," I said.
	"Still, I'd love to have one," Lyle said wistfully.
	"Well, I don't know anyone whose head I'd want on a platter,"
I said with a devilish grin, "so I guess it'll have to be your
first born male child."
	"That would be me!" Ryan said sprightly.
	"No, sport," I said, ruffling Ryan's mop of blond hair,
"your dad's not gonna trade you for a TV!"
	"Why not? Aren't I good enough?"
	"Oh, honey," Lyle said, "of course you are.  It's just people
don't use their children for barter.  That's only in fairy tales."
	"Barter?" Ryan asked.
	"It's where you trade your goods or services for someone
else's goods or services."
	"Why don't you just pay 'em?"
	"It's used when people don't have money to spend."
	"Oh," Ryan said with a look like he was processing the newly
acquired information into something he could relate to.
	"We have an easy payment plan and a lay-away plan if you're
serious about wanting it," I offered.  "Or, if you sign up for the
Appliance Emporium credit card today, you can get 20% off.  The
cards are good nationwide in over 2200 stores."
	"Does that mean we can't get the big screen TV?" Ryan asked
with his lower lip stuck out in a pout.
	Ryan had been courteous and quiet the whole time his dad had
been browsing--not like some kids that rip and tear around the place
like it's their personal playground.  He was the kind of kid you
just wanted to please.
	"What would you say to this?" I said, leaning down to look Ryan
in the eyes.  "If I find a scratch or dent, I'll give you a call."
	"Scratch or dent?" Ryan asked with that tone of voice that
indicated an inferior product was undesirable.
	"Sometimes a forklift crushes a box or packing crate and the
product gets a little scratch or a dent in it.  We can't sell it for
new so it's set aside for our S&D sale."
	"How often do you have those sales?" Lyle asked.
	"Not very.  The employees get first dibs on the merchandise,
so ... if it's the good stuff, they get it before the sale."
	"So, any time you guys need a birthday present or whatever,
you just drive the forklift into a refrigerator or something?" Lyle
asked.
	"No, not really.  The S&D price is only slightly lower than
our employee discount, so that's not much of an incentive--especially
if your job is on the line for denting something."
	"Who would want a TV with a scratch in it?" Ryan asked.
	"The screen is fine.  The scratch would be on the wood grain
finish.  Of course, metal washers and dryers might have a dent, but
they can usually be popped out with a common bathroom plunger."
	"I'll tell you what," Ryan said, "you do that for Daddy and
I'll be your first-born male child for a whole week!"
	"A whole week, huh?" I said dubiously but with a grin.
	Looking up at his dad and then at me, Ryan said, "Okay, a month.
I'll do all the same chores I do at home and I'll mow your lawn, too."
	Giving Lyle a look of mock astonishment, I said, "Wow!  I don't
see how a guy could pass up an offer like that.  I guess I'll have to
keep a sharp eye out for the next S&D sale."  I didn't have the heart
to tell him I didn't have a lawn because I live in an apartment.
	"Just don't get your hopes up, son," Lyle said.
	"It's not for me, daddy.  It's for you.  I'm doing it for you."
	"I know, son, but it still has to be paid for and I don't know
if your mom would let us spend that kind of money on a TV."
	"We could tell her it was your birthday present ... and Father's
Day ... and," continuing to think Ryan added "... and Christmas."
	"Yeah, I suppose we could tell her that," Lyle said rolling
his eyes like he knew his wife would never go along with the purchase.
	"Then give him our phone number so he can call as soon as one
is dented," Ryan said excitedly.
	To appease Ryan, Lyle wrote his number on a scratch pad I had
next to the register.  I gave Lyle one of my business cards.  Then,
just to make Ryan feel grown up, I handed him one, too.  "You can
call me any time, okay?"
	"Okay," Ryan said, sliding my card in his pocket like it was
gold bullion.
	Several weeks went by and I didn't give either of them a second
thought.  After all, Lyle was married.  Not that I didn't mess around
with married men.  As far as I'm concerned, marriage only puts a ring
on the guy--not a lock on him.  Of course, Ryan was a kid half my
age, so he wasn't food for fantasy, anyway.  So, I was surprised when
Ryan showed up one day, seemingly out of nowhere.
	"Remember me?  I'm Ryan."
	"Yes, I do.  Big screen TV," I said.
	"Is that all I mean to you?" Ryan said in a hurt tone.
	I looked at him quizzically.  "Uh, well ..."
	"You're my Rumplestiltskin.  I'm your first-born male child
prize," he said mischievously.  "Don't you remember?"
	"There's no way I'd forget something like that.  But I've been
thinking ..."
	"About what?" Ryan interrupted excitedly.
	"I'm not used to little ... uh, young men like you being around,
so as far as you doing chores, uh ... that is ... I mean ... uh."
Unable to come up with anything sensible to say I blurted out, "I
don't have any children."
	"Why not?"
	"I'm not married."  To direct any further discussion away from
my personal life while looking around for his dad, I asked, "How did
you get here?  Where's your father?"  I tried to think of Ryan's
father's name.
	"He's at work.  I took the bus."
	"Does he know you ride the bus by yourself?"
	"Yeah.  So I was wondering, could I be your son for one day?"
	"I beg your pardon?"
	"You know, kinda like that month long thing we talked about only
it would just be for one day.  I'd still do the full month later, cuz
I promised."
	"But why?  I mean ..."
	"You know next week is 'Bring you kid to work day.'"
	"Yeah."
	"Well, if I can go to work with my dad, I can get out of school
for the whole day.  All I have to do is write a paper about what I
did."
	"So why don't you go to work with ..." I searched my memory
banks trying to remember his dad's name.  "Lyle!" I said, proud of
my ability to recall it so easily.
	"He works in a top secret lab someplace and I can't get in
without a security clearance."
	I thought about how I don't really like being around kids.  It's
like W.C. Fields, the late comedic actor, once said, "I don't like
working with children or animals--I never know what they're gonna do
next."  I don't mind holding my coworker's babies because there's
always someone around eager to take it out of my arms.  But from the
toddler years through the teen years, I feel awkward around them.
I can't understand toddlers just learning to talk and I don't know
what to talk about with the teens.  I just can't believe we'd have
anything in common.
	"Next Wednesday," Ryan said excitedly, wrenching me from my
reverie.
	"I have your number.  I'll check with management to see if it's
okay and I'll call you."  Then, fearing Lyle might think it was some
scheme I had come up with to corrupt his son, I asked, "Uh, does your
dad know about this?"
	"No, but it'll be okay.  He likes you."
	'He only met me briefly a month or so ago,' I thought.  'Why
would Ryan think Lyle likes me?'
	"I'll tell him when I get home," Ryan said.
	"Okay, but I'll want to talk to him when I call.  Okay?"
	"Sure.  He'd love to talk to you again."
	'The kid has to be delusional,' I thought.  'He thinks all he
has to do is wish for something and it'll happen.'  I looked at my
watch and saw it was almost quitting time.  "Uh, I'm getting off in
10 minutes."
	"What time is it?" Ryan asked in a panic, looking around the
room for a clock.
	"Almost five-thirty."
	"I've got to catch my bus," Ryan said.  As he sped away, he
turned long enough to put his fingers to his ear in the universal
sign for 'call me.'
	I had my car and could have given him a ride but I abandoned
that idea as quickly as it occurred to me.  'I don't want to put
myself in a compromising position with an under aged kid,' I thought.
After punching out, I got in the car to head for home.  Just as I
pulled up to the street to await my turn to merge into traffic, I
saw Ryan getting on the number three bus.  I knew it went
downtown--not that far out of my way--so I followed it.  I wanted
to make sure Ryan got home safely.  He's the kind of kid bullies
like to intimidate.--short, thin and blond.
	When the bus pulled into the downtown terminal, I pulled into a
vacant parking space on the street to see if Ryan changed busses.
He got off the bus and, along with a guy in his fifties, walked into
the men's room.  From where I was parked, I couldn't tell if they
were friends or if the guy was following Ryan.  He was maybe a pace
or two behind Ryan the whole way.  Being the suspicious type, I
rushed to investigate.  As I got to the men's room door, all the
busses pulled out at about the same time, one after another.
I entered the bathroom and looked around. That's when I realized
the bathroom serviced both sides of the terminal because there was
another set of exit doors at the other end of the room.
	I heard the unmistakable noises of cocksucking, so I looked at
the spaces under the stall walls.  I saw what looked like a man
sitting on the toilet and a guy standing in the same stall, facing
him.  I couldn't remember looking at Ryan's shoes or even his pants,
so I didn't know if it was him in there or not.
	Even so, I thought, 'How stupid!  If security walked in right
now, these two would be busted!  The guy should at least have his
feet up on the back of the stall door so it looks like the other
guy is just in there peeing.'
	I heard what sounded like the voice of a younger guy, grunt
and groan as he unloaded his spunk down the other guy's throat, so
I eased into a stall two doors down and waited.
	"Thanks again," the younger guy said, offhandedly.  "See you
again, sometime."  Because the voice reverberated off the tile walls
of the cavernous room, I couldn't tell if it was Ryan's voice or not.
I chose the stall I did because I also expected him to leave the way
he came in but all I saw was the back of him as he left.  He had
blond hair but, again, I couldn't be sure because the fluorescent
lights in the men's room turned it kind of green.
	As the cocksucker left the stall, a twinkle glinted off the
mirror.  He stood at the bank of sinks and leaned in to look at his
face in the mirror for telltale signs of cum.  That's when I saw his
security guard badge.
	Stepping out of my stall, and in a calm voice, I said, "That's
illegal, you know."
	As the guard whirled around, his right hand went for his gun.
	"Whoa, dude!" I said, raising my hands up to about shoulder
height, palms facing him.  "Looks to me like the devil's after you."
	"Jesus, man!  Don't sneak up on a guy like that!"
	"Sorry," I said in a tone that implied I wasn't.  "It's just
that I try to be quiet in public places when I'm engrossed in illegal
activity."
	His face reddened but he tried to defend his actions by
squaring his shoulders and hitching up his pants like a Wild West
lawman. The guard said, "He's legal."
	"But the act is still illegal."
	"Wrong again," the guard said in a know-it-all tone.  "The
sodomy law was overturned last year in this state."
	"What you were doing wasn't sodomy."
	"You just better look it up in the dictionary, mister, because
it says oral or anal."
	"Maybe you better read it again.  It includes oral only if it's
between members of the opposite sex.  I think the courts left it that
way just so they can still prosecute homosexuals."
	"You sound like you might be ... uh ... gay ... friendly."
	"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
	"So you're not gonna turn me in?" the guard asked with a
friendly smile.
	"Do you know the kid's name?"
	"Nah.  He likes to keep it that way, anonymous, you know."
	"Does he come here often?"
	"Why, you interested?"
	"Does he?" I asked tersely.
	"Occasionally ... more like sporadically.  Never know what day
but it's always at the five-thirty to six o'clock switch off."
	"Switch off?"
	"Between seven-thirty and eight in the morning and five-thirty
and six at night all the buses arrive about the same time and leave
about a minute apart.  Those are the busiest times of transport
traffic."
	"Makes sense."
	"Like I say, you interested?  I could let him know," the guard
pressed, like he wanted me to confess to being gay, too.
	"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?"
	"Oh shit, yeah!  Damn, I forgot," he said looking at his watch.
	As I got back in my car, I wondered if Ryan had, somehow
discovered that I was following him and deliberately gave me the slip
or if he just used the men's room as a short cut to another bus.  On
the drive home, I wondered if the blond leaving afterward really was
Ryan or not.  I know I was sexually active at his age, so I guess it's
not a stretch of the imagination to expect him to be, too.
	That night, I fell asleep thinking about Ryan and how I would
react if he told me he was gay.  The next day at work, in the light of
day, I admonished myself for projecting my own homosexuality  onto
others.  I convinced myself Ryan wasn't gay, he wasn't the kid in the
men's room and I was flattering myself by thinking a kid his age would
even be that interested in a guy my age.  I asked about the
possibility of bringing Ryan to work.  I fibbed a little and told them
he was my nephew and they agreed.  'So much for an easy out,' I
thought.  Nevertheless, I phoned Ryan when I got home from work.  As I
expected, Ryan answered.  He was a teenager, after all.
	"Is your dad home?" I asked.
	"Can I do it?" Ryan asked eagerly.
	"I have to talk to your dad," I said sternly.
	"Oh, you're no fun," Ryan said petulantly.
	"So you're changing your mind then?"
	"Then it's a yes!" he said excitedly.
	"Let me talk to your father."
	"Ok, okay."  Ryan yelled out to his father without covering the
mouthpiece, just about deafening me.  "Dad, it's for you.  It's Mr.
Hickey."
	I waited a moment before I heard what sounded like an extension
phone click in.
	"Hello?"
	"Lyle, I was wondering ... uh ...."  I hesitated.  I didn't want
to get Ryan in trouble, in case his father didn't know about the
arrangement, but I had to make sure his dad was okay with it.
	"Is this about the scratch-and-dent or Ryan's hare-brained scheme
to go to work with you?"
	"Uh ... the scheme.  So you know about it?"
	"He told me about it after he'd already asked you," Lyle said
apologetically.
	"Well, it's okay at work, if it's okay with you.  I told them he
was my nephew. I hope you don't mind."
	"I've got no problem with it," Lyle said.  "I want you to know
that you don't have to do this.  He can go to work with his mother."
	"I don't want to hang around a bunch of old ladies paying
insurance claims," Ryan said from his end of the extension.
	"What have I told you about listening in on my conversations,"
Lyle said.
	"Uh ... I answered the phone ... I just forgot to hang up is
all," Ryan said in a tone that was meant to fool us into believing
it just occurred to him that he hadn't hung up.
	"Well, there's something else I need to talk to you about," I
said.  "It's really important that you know before ..."
	"Have you hung up yet?" Lyle interrupted.  Then, not hearing any
response he said, "Let me call you back on my cell phone."
	"Okay," I said.  "You've got my card."
	Moments after I hung up, the phone rang.
	"Lyle?" I asked.
	"Yeah."
	"That's one slippery little eel you've got there," I said. I was
not only thinking about how he asked me before he told his father but
I was also remembering him giving me the slip at the men's room--if,
indeed, it had been Ryan.
	"Yeah, the little rascal, he's a handful--in more ways than one
but I think I'll keep him.  There's something I need to talk to you
about, too," Lyle said.
	"Maybe I should go first.  Then, maybe your issue won't be an
issue anymore."
	"Well ... uh ... okay, go ahead," Lyle said.
	"It's just that ... ummm, I have a record--a police record."
	"Yeah, I know.  How many years of your sentence did you have to
serve?"
	"You know about that?"
	"Yeah.  I keep track of everyone my son finds ... shall we say
... interesting."
	"Well, I want you to know, that incident didn't involve a minor.
In fact, I was set up.  Don't get me wrong, I did the deed but
entrapment was involved, too.  If you only knew what went on
afterward."
	"Like I say, I know everything there is to know about you that's
on the official records and I'd guess about half of what's unofficial."
	"But ..."
	"All I need to know is whether you really want to let Ryan go to
work with you."
	"Yeah, sure, it's okay with me.  But I have to tell you, I'm not
real good with kids.  I mean I like 'em ... no, I mean, not like that.
They're okay but I'm not interested in 'em ... you know, like that ...
sexually.  I wouldn't do anything ..."
	"Calm down," Lyle said soothingly.
	"It's just I don't want to be accused of doing something I
didn't."
	"It's okay.  I know you're gay.  I know the names and addresses
of everyone you've ever dated--male and female--and I know you've never
touched anyone underage."
	"Well, that not true," I said, unable to control my desire to
vindicate myself, "but I was underage, too."
	"That's kinda what I meant.  Trust me, if I thought you meant my
son any harm, we wouldn't be having this discussion."
	"So this going-to-work thing is okay with you?"
	"There's a few stipulations.  Can we meet somewhere tomorrow for
lunch?" Lyle asked.
	"Actually, I'm off tomorrow.  Name the place and I'll be there."
	"Your apartment.  I'll bring take-out.  Is that okay with you?"
	"Uh, yeah sure," I said surprised that he wanted to come to my
apartment.
	After we hashed over what he would bring for lunch, he said,
"See you around twelve-fifteen."
	"It's a date," I said.
	After Lyle hung up, it occurred to me what I'd said.  'No
stupid,' I thought, 'it's not a date.  He's coming here to see if you
have any nude photos hanging on the wall, obscene statues or kiddie
porn stashed somewhere.'  I had a fitful night's sleep waking up
several times worrying about why he chose my apartment instead of some
restaurant.  Naturally we couldn't discuss my homosexuality in public
but, on the phone, he sounded okay with it.
	'Maybe he's coming over to threaten me,' I thought. Then, before
falling asleep again, I ran through all the reasons why he wouldn't, or
couldn't, or shouldn't.  A little later I awoke to the realization that
I had invited him to the apartment so he wouldn't need a search
warrant.  Thoughts about my previous entrapment--thoughts I had mulled
over and over many times before--lulled me back to sleep.  'Maybe he's
coming over to put the make on me--to see if I'm good enough for his
son.'  I fell asleep once again, chiding myself for such foolish
thoughts.  'He's straight.  His son is straight.  I'm just making more
out of this than I should.'
	It was eleven-thirty before I got up, more tired than when I went
to bed.  I quickly showered and shaved.  I air-dried, keeping my body
chilled, while I decided what to wear.  After setting out the sixth
outfit on the bed, I realized I was acting like I was going out on a
date.  'It's my day off.  Wear what you wear on your day off.'
Putting all the other outfits back, I slipped on a pair of cutoff
sweatpants and a T-shirt.  'Okay, it's a little snug but what the
hell,' I thought.
	The coffee maker beeped that it was done brewing just as
the doorbell rang.  I buzzed Lyle in and went out in the hall to wait
for him.  He saw me as he got off the elevator.  The light from the
elevator before the doors closed made him look huge.  His swagger
helped perpetuate my belief that he was ten-foot-tall and bulletproof.
His handshake was hardy but friendly.
	I accepted the carryout bag of Philly Beef and Cheddar we'd
agreed on for lunch. I also noticed the bag was from an exclusive
restaurant, not a fast food place.  I started to get plates out of
the kitchen cabinet but Lyle said, "Don't go to any bother.  No need
to add dishes to your list of chores to do on your day off."
	"You sure? It's no bother."
	"I'm fine."
	"You sure are!"  It slipped out before I could stop myself.
	"Well, thanks, I didn't think I was your type."
	"I'm sorry.  Sometimes ... I mean ... I didn't sleep well last
night and when I'm tired ... well my mouth tends to get me in trouble."
	"I've heard that it does," Lyle said with a smirk.  "I don't have
much time but I'd like to set you straight on a few things."
	Out of habit, I raised one eyebrow when he said the word
"straight."
	"I know you're gay--and perhaps bisexual--and that you went to
prison for ... shall we say, having an unfortunate run-in with a
security cop at the mall.  I also know about the arrangement that was
made while you were incarcerated."
	Although surprised, I lowered my head thinking, 'I thought all
that was behind me but that son-of-a-bitch of a mall cop still
wants a piece of me.' "Look," I said defiantly, "I served my time.
I even had to knuckle under to those pigs, but I don't perform lewd
acts in public any more and as far as I'm concerned, that part of my
life is a done deal."
	"I understand," Lyle said.  "I didn't mean to offend you.  I'm
not passing judgment on you.  I just wanted you to know I'm not some
pompous rich-assed bastard pandering to the whim of his kid."
	"What the hell are you talking about?"
	"Most fathers would do everything they could to keep their son
away from you, but ... well, Ryan likes you and ..."
	Still in shock, I said, "Pandering?  Like in arranging-sexual-
favors-for-someone pandering?"  My voice was an octave higher than
normal and a little too loud.
	"Don't get me wrong.  I like you, too.  Just not the same way
Ryan does.  And I respect your preference for adults.  I'm not asking
you to ... you know ... uh,"
	I looked at Lyle in total shock.  'Surely he can't be suggesting
that he wants me to ...,' I thought.
	Lyle got a look of shock on his face, too.  "Oh my god!  He
didn't tell you, did he?  No, of course he didn't, the little rascal."
	"Tell me what?"
	"Ryan's gay.  He told me he told you."
	"No, he didn't!" I said.  "I'm sorry, Lyle, I thought ...I
couldn't ..."
	"Wait, let's start over," Lyle said.  "After Ryan met you last
month at Appliance Emporium, he's talked about you a lot.  To me, that
means he's infatuated with you--or at least with what you sell."
	"Gay?"
	"It's not a phase.  He's been ... 'interested' since he was nine.
Over the last few years--ever since his 'other plumbing' started
working--he's gotten more bold."
	"Like what he just did to you and me?"
	"Yeah, like that.  He loves playing pranks and I've had to ground
him a couple of times because of it.  But the reason I came over was to
tell you--if you're still willing to take him to work--that he'll have
to sleep here the night before."
	"Sleep here?" I asked incredulously.
	"You can back out right now and I can tell Ryan it's his own
fault for setting us up."
	"No, it's okay, but are you sure you want him to sleep here?"
	"Like I say, he's gay, you're gay and you're man enough to
protect yourself from the rascal.  But I'll warn you, he's wily and
conniving when he wants his own way."
	"Like how?" I asked dubiously.
	"He's notorious for batting his eyelids to wrap a guy around his
finger--or crying miserably like his heart is breaking.  Most people
give in.  It's up to you if you want to.  If not, you have my
permission to tan his hide.  I gave up using my hand and I use a rolled
up newspaper now.  He'll try to convince you he's never been spanked or
he'll threaten to tell me some made up story.  If he does, hand him his
cell phone and tell him to call me."
	"Call his bluff, huh?"
	"You got it!"
	"What's his mother think about Ryan being gay?"
	"She works in the medical insurance field and she knows it's not
his fault.  She's more upset that she won't have grandkids than
anything else.  As far as who he sees and what he does with them, she'd
just as soon not know."
	"And you?"
	"Ryan tells me everything."  Then after a moment to think about
what he said, he added, "Probably not everything, just the stuff he
thinks will shock me but enough that I know he's playing safe and not
doing anything that'll land him in jail--or in his case, reform
school."
	"I'm living proof that you can't promise that."
	"Well, maybe I can look into that for you.  It sounds like
there's something still hanging over your head.  Consider it a perk for
knowing Ryan--or better yet, for putting up with his antics."
	Looking at the kitchen clock I said, "You said you didn't have
much time ..."
	"This is more important," Lyle said dismissively as if he were
talking to his secretary.  "If Ryan gets too pesky, tell him to sit in
a chair.  He knows that's his punishment and he knows he has to do it
without any backtalk."
	"Just sit in a chair?"
	"It's the one thing he hates the most.  He can't talk, read,
play games or anything.  Just sit quietly."
	"As active as he is, that would be sheer torture."
	"Exactly.  Also, he knows he has to practice safe sex--not that
you'll need to worry about that.  Although," Lyle said rather
dramatically, "if he starts to come on to you, and you want him to
stop--he can be pretty persistent--tell him if he doesn't quit
pestering you he'll have to stand at attemntion on a kitchen chair, out
in that hallway--naked."
	I looked at Lyle like he had gone completely insane.
	"Don't worry, it's only a threat but it's very effective.  Ryan
has a slight vertigo problem, so standing on a chair frightens him.  A
worse fear for him, however, is being seen naked.  The coach at his
school is working with him to overcome that little phobia but he says
Ryan's got a long tough fight ahead of him."
	"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, a pang of genuine concern
coursing through me for the little guy.
	"He has a retainer he's supposed to wear when he's sleeping.
He'll try to talk you out of it.  I'm telling you all this because you
mentioned you're not comfortable with youngsters."
	"I appreciate it," I said.  "I realize you're a busy man, but I
have to tell you ...you're attitude about Ryan and me is very cavalier
and it scares me."
	"I'm here to reassure you, not upset you.  My son has an uncanny
knack for choosing friends who are pure and honest. Well, maybe not
pure in one sense of the word but pure of heart as far as their
friendship is concerned.  You know how movies depict a snarling dog
when evil enters the room?  Well, Ryan has that ability which helps
him steer clear of evil people."
	"I'm a convicted homosexual sex offender who could warp your
son's mind with all the different ways he can engage in illegal sex
practices and not get caught ... and you're fine with that?"
	"I trust my son's instincts."
	"I could be feeding you a line of bull about not being a child
molester.  Time spent in prison can be very educational, especially
anything that involves deceiving the authorities.  How do you know I
won't rape him or kidnap him?"
	"He'd never let that happen."
	"He's a kid!  I'm stronger than him.  I could ..."
	"Ryan will outwit you every time .. no offense, but he's a
quick-witted young man.  I don't mean to brag but he's so bright and
he gets so bored in class that he writes espionage scenarios for me
to evaluate when I get home from work."
	"And his school work doesn't suffer?"
	"Nope," Lyle said proudly.  "They're talking about skipping
him a grade."
	"I had a friend who jumped a grade and he hated it.  He was
always a year behind everyone else in physical development.  I'd advise
you wait until Ryan's a little more developed, if you know what I mean.
Otherwise, it could be intimidating, not to mention embarrassing in the
locker room."
	Lyle gave me a knowing smile.  "Maybe you could talk to him about
that.  He might feel better about staying in his own grade level if he
knew you had his best interest at heart.  By the way, do you sleep
nude?" Lyle asked rather abruptly.
	"I beg your pardon!"
	"Ryan sleeps nude.  Has ever since he discovered his stiffy in
the middle of the night once.  Will he be sleeping out here," Lyle
asked, waving an upturned palm in the direction of the sofa in the
living room, "... or with you?"
	"Uh, I don't know.  I mean, he can choose.  I can sleep out
here."
	"No, don't put yourself out.  He can sleep with you.  That's not
a problem.  It's just that he likes to cuddle, so if you have trouble
sleeping with someone who sticks to you like glue, you might have him
sleep out here.  I've had some luck with putting a pillow down the
middle of the bed, though."
	"Uh, thanks.  I'll keep that in mind.  But ..."
	"But what?"
	"You really don't mind if he sleeps with me?"
	"No, not at all.  Hell, you can have sex with him if you want.
Safe sex.  He'll let you know what you can do and how far you can go.
But again, it's not mandatory."
	"That's nice to know."  Then with a grin I said, "Unless he
seduces me, right?"
	"That's what I've been trying to tell you.  He's a charmer.  He
got to his uncle, his math teacher and now, I think he's working on his
coach."
	"Uh, has he ever ..." I suddenly had second thoughts about asking
about the bus terminal security guard and hesitated.
	"Ever what?"
	"Let me ask him.  If I can't get him to tell me, then maybe I'll
ask you.  There's just this sleazy guy I met who might be preying on
young kids.  Don't get me wrong.  If a kid wants to do it, I'm all for
it.  Hell, I was a horny kid once, too, but if this guy is forcing kids
to do things just because he's ... well, like I said, let me talk to
Ryan first."
	"I have one more question and then I have to go," Lyle said.
	"Shoot."
	"Are you HIV positive?"
	"No."
	"I had to ask, what with the prison incident.  You understand,
don't you?"
	"I only hope Ryan is asking the same question before he...
well... gets 'interested' in someone."
	"He assures me he does.  In fact, let me know if he doesn't--that
is, if anything happens between you two.  It's been nice talking to
you.  I know Ryan will be in safe hands whenever you're around."
	"Thanks.  That's nice to hear after all I've been through--prison
and all, but uh, you're not gonna be in any trouble for being gone so
long, are you?"
	"No, I'm pretty much my own boss but thanks for asking."
	After Lyle left, I had a short period of peacefulness before my
suspicious nature intervened again.  Our chat had been very upbeat and
positive but once I had a chance to reflect on some of the things Lyle
said, I began to question his motives.  I realized that if I told Lyle
whether Ryan asked about HIV or not, I'd be admitting to Lyle that
something happened between his son and me.  'Would Lyle really be okay
with it if I had sex with Ryan?' I wondered.
	Later on I thought, 'Why do I even waste my time worrying about
it?  Ryan isn't interested in me, he's only interested in what
electronics he can get from me.'  My thoughts kept returning to the
possibility that this was a new way to entrap me again.  'I'll have
Lyle sign a statement that he's given me permission to let Ryan sleep
over.'
	Thursdays and Saturdays are my scheduled days off. So,On Saturday,
I phoned Lyle but again, Ryan answered.
	"Hey, Rascal," I said, remembering his dad had used that term
several times to describe him.  "Is your dad home?"
	"Yeah.  Are you excited?"
	"Excited?  Oh you mean about the work thing ... and the
sleepover," I added figuring that the sleepover was more exciting to a
kid his age.
	"No, I mean, are you excited.  Do you have a hard-on?"
	"Ryan!"
	"It's an honest question."
	"How do you figure?"
	"Well, I need to know if I should bring the Viagra or not."  Then
he giggled so delightfully I found myself chuckling.
	"No, you won't need to bring any pharmaceuticals."
	"So do you?"
	"Do I what?"
	"Have a hard-on."
	"No, not right now."
	"I do.  I'm stroking it right now while I'm talking to you.  Do
you like to jack off?
	"Ryan, this isn't something we should be discussing over the
phone."
	"People do it all the time," Ryan said, "only they get paid for
it."
	"Can I just talk to your dad?"
	"One more question and then I'll call him."
	"What's that?"
	"Do you swallow or spit it out?  I like to swallow unless it's
yucky tasting like asparagus or broccoli."
	"Ryan!"
	"Okay."  Once again, he yelled, without covering the mouthpiece,
for his dad to pick up the phone.  This time I held the phone away from
my ear.  I put it back just as Ryan said, "Bye," and hung up.
	"Dick?"
	"Lyle?" I asked.
	"What's up?" Lyle asked.
	"Now you sound like your son," I said.
	After a brief pause to think Lyle said, "Oh, not that phone-sex-
interrogation thing again.  He pulled that on me at work one day.  He
didn't know I was on the speaker phone."
	"How embarrassing!" I said.
	"Yeah, it was.  Thank god the people I work with know him--or at
least his sense of humor.  So why'd you call?"
	"Uh, this is kind of ... uh, uncomfortable for me to ask, but
could I ask you to put in writing that it's okay for Ryan to ... uh,
sleep over?"
	"Not a problem," Lyle said lightheartedly.  "I'll also include
all the other stuff I mentioned that might happen."
	"Well, I ... uh ... know a little about the law and your wife
will have to sign, too."
	"I'll tell you what.  I'll have her bring it over when she drops
Ryan off and she can witness my signature and sign hers in front of
you.  How's that?"
	"Well, it probably won't hold up in court, but it'll make me
feel better."
	"I'm going to be out of town but Ryan will have my personal
cell number.  I'm afraid I can't give it to you but, if you have any
problems, anything whatsoever, have him call me."
	"I promise.  But what if he's like ... unconscious?"
	"Amanda, that's Ryan's mother, will give you her number.  She
can always get in touch with me."
	"Do you guys do that often?  I mean, it's like you have all this
stuff worked out already."
	"It's because of my job.  We've had this arrangement since Ryan's
first baby sitter."
	"Oh, of course," I said, feeling foolish for, once again,
thinking I was being set up.  "Lyle, would it be better if I picked
Ryan up at your place--save Amanda a trip to my place and back?"
	"Your place is on her way.  She's got an out-of-town meeting
Wednesday, so she's getting a motel room Tuesday night.  By the way,
that's why Ryan needed to sleepover.  Otherwise, he would be with his
babysitter--and he hates that."
	"Can't blame him.  I never liked sitters either, after I ...
well, uh ..."
	"Started getting spontaneous woodies?" Lyle said good-naturedly.
	"Yeah," I said, blushing even though I was on the phone.
	"Did you want to talk to Ryan?"
	"Uh ..." I hadn't planned to, so I hesitated.  In the blink of an
eye, I convinced myself we didn't have anything in common to talk about
and I said, "Sure!"  While I waited for Ryan to get on the phone, I
wondered why my brain said 'no' but my mouth said 'yes.'
	"Mr. Hickey?"
	"Hi, Ryan.  Didn't want to hang up without saying good-bye to you
this time."  I heard the extension hang up.  Listening carefully, I
could hear erratic breathing, like Ryan was using a Stairmaster or
something.  "Did you get that little problem taken care of while I was
talking to your dad?"
	"Working on it right now.  Ungh, ungh, ungh.  Oh, god.  Ungh!"
	I was listening to a 14-year-old climaxing.  Invariably and
against my conscious will, I visualized his little fist stroking his
adolescent pee pee until his toes curled and, in my mind's eye, his
stiffy spurted thin, watery ejaculate.
	"Ahhh, yeah, that was good!  Have you ever tasted your own cum,
Mr. Hickey?"
	"Can we change the subject?"
	"Sure," Ryan said brightly.  "Do you ever get butt-fucked?"
	"Let's save this conversation for when you come over, okay?  What
I need to know is what you like to eat."
	Ryan's giggle tickled me.
	"Other than that!"  I said, knowing he was dying to say 'cock.'
	"Spaghetti and meat balls."
	"Okay, I'll make sure I have the fixin's."
	"It's gotta be meat balls, not meat sauce.  It's just not the
same, otherwise."
	"Duly noted," I said, feeling like I'd been reprimanded by the
principal.  "What about dessert?"
	"Oh, wow!  Uh ... umm ... can it be anything?" Ryan asked in a
tone that implied he didn't get treats often.
	"Within reason," I cautioned, remembering our discussion about
Salome and Rumplestiltskin.
	"Can it be a banana split?"
	I thought for a moment, wondering if I had all the necessary
ingredients.  "Sure, why not?  We can make 'em together."
	Ryan said dismissively very much like his dad, "Okay, g'bye, I've
gotta clean up."
	"See ya Tuesday night," I said just before he hung up.  I don't
know if he heard me or not.
	Sunday and Monday were workdays for me, so I didn't have much
time to think about anything.  After work, I remembered to buy a jar of
maraschino cherries and a can of whipped cream.  I debated whether to
buy the non-dairy or the real deal.  Recalling Ryan's reaction to
inferior products during our scratch and dent discussion, I bought a
can of the real stuff that can be squirted on with a fancy swirl.
	Tuesday, at work, my mind wandered terribly as I worried about
my decision.  I berated myself for ever agreeing to the sleepover.  I
agonized over how I'd keep a teenager entertained since I didn't have
an X-box or a PlayStation.2.  I even considered buying one or the
other and returning it for a full refund after his visit.  I squelched
that idea because there are thousands of games in hundreds of categories
and it was impossible to know which ones would interest Ryan--if any.
	For the same reason, I nixed the idea of renting a couple of
movies because I didn't know what he liked.  I presumed he was too old
for Nemo and too young for Kill Bill.  By five o'clock, I was so
mentally exhausted from worrying, I didn't think I could make it
through the night with a hyperactive kid.  Then it hit me 'His mother is
dropping him off.'and I perked right up--running on all cylinders--
worrying all over again.
	I hadn't been home five minutes before the intercom announced
their arrival.  I buzzed them in and waited in the hall like I did for
Lyle.  The moment the elevator doors opened, Ryan bounded down the hall
toward me screaming, "Hi, Uncle Dickey."
	When he got to me he wrapped his arms around my waist.  Because
of his short stature, the top of his head was right between my pecs.
While we waited for his mother to approach at a stately pace, I
whispered, "Uncle Dickey?"
	"Yeah.  It's a combination of Dick and Hickey--Dickey, get it?
I heard you're passing me off as your nephew at work so I thought
I'd practice."
	"Oh, okay."
	In a whisper Ryan said, "I hope you don't have a hard-on.  Mom
wouldn't like that."  Then he backed away to look.
	"Well, if I did," I said, "I don't now, but thanks for the heads
up."
	"Heads up," Ryan giggled.  "You mean, like a stiffy?"
	"Shh," I admonished, "and introduce me to your mother."
	"Mom, this is Mr. Hickey.  Dad's already checked him out.  He's
kewl.  Mr. Hickey, this is my mom."
	"Amanda," she said extending her hand.
	"Call me Dick."
	I ushered them into the apartment.  Amanda stood near the door
but Ryan ran to sit on the sofa like a proper little gentleman,
dropping his overnight bag close to the end of it.
	"This is nice," Amanda said, looking around.  It was difficult to
tell from her tone if she was being sincere or if she felt the
apartment was tiny by her standards. I don't know why but I pictured
them living in a mansion-sized home.
	"Uh, let me show you around."  During my fits of insecurity over
the past couple of days, it occurred to me that she would want to see
the place her son was going to be spending the night.  The layout of
the place was such that when you walked in, you could see the dining
room and the kitchen on your left and the living room on your right.
Then, down a short hallway, the bathroom was on the left and the
bedroom was on the right.
	I directed Amanda toward the kitchen and Ryan jumped up to join
us.  As she looked around, she said, "Nice cabinetry."  I got the
feeling it was an incomplete sentence, like she forgot to say, 'for an
apartment.'
	I opened one.  "They're actually deeper than most," I said
proudly.  Then, opening one after another, I said, "Glasses and cups;
plates and bowls; boxed goods like instant potatoes, rice and pancake
mix over the stove.  It helps keep 'em dry in damp weather."  Leaning
down, I opened more cabinets.  "Pots and pans, all the usual stuff."
	She gave me a smile of approval.  I think she knew I was doing
this to prove to her I didn't have anything to hide.
	I then directed them down the hall to the bathroom.  Turning to
Ryan, I said, "This toilet seat is always left down, okay?"
	Amanda smiled.
	"Okay," Ryan said easily.
	I opened the medicine cabinet and said, "Everything in here is
off limits.  Everything.  If you need something, ask for it." I said
sternly.  I led them into the bedroom and slid the folding doors to the
closet wide open.  Instead of shelves or drawers, half the closet had
stackable wire baskets, so everything I owned was on display.
	"Are you always this organized, Mr. Hickey?" Amanda asked
apparently uncomfortable calling me Dick.
	Not wanting to mention that it's mandatory in prison, I said,
"Yeah, I'm kind of a neat freak."  I shot a look a Ryan to see if he'd
heard that remark.
	"Okay.  Neat!  I GET it."
	"Ryan, mind your manners!" Amanda warned.
	"Sorry, Mr. Hickey," Ryan said, his head bowed in contrition.
	"And over here," I said, opening the door, "is the master bath
and this lid is always left up."
	"Don't you fall in when you do number two?" Ryan giggled.
	"You know what he meant," Amanda admonished.
	"There's just one more thing," I said in a serious tone.  I
leaned with my hands on my knees to support myself so I could look Ryan
directly in the eyes.  "This is your room while you're here.
Everything in it is mine and you have to respect that.  But this is
your room.  If you don't want me to be in it, you can tell me to leave
and I'll abide by your decision."
	"You don't have to do that, Mr. Hickey," Amanda said.
	"No, I think it's important for Ryan to have a place where he'll
feel safe," I said, making deliberate eye contact with her so she'd
know I was being honest.  Then, to Ryan, I said, "But because it's my
belongings in your room, you can't let anyone else in here.  None of
your little friends, no one you might meet around the apartment
complex, no one!"
	"Thanks, Uncle Dickey.  I knew you'd be this way."
	"I hope you don't mind him calling you that," Amanda said.
	"No, not at all.  It's refreshing after some of the pejorative
names I've been called.  With a name like Dick Hickey you learn to just
ignore the rude and crude ones."
	"Well I must be going.  I've got a long drive.  I can't tell you
how happy I am to have met you, Dick," she said with genuine
enthusiasm.
	"I told you he was special," Ryan said apparently picking up on
his mother's use of my first name like it was an unspoken seal of
approval.
	Amanda looked first at Ryan then at me and back at Ryan.  "You
behave, understand?"
	"Yes, ma'am."  Ryan reached up, Amanda leaned down and they
hugged.
	As she passed the dining room table on the way out, she said,
"Oh, Lyle asked me to give you this.  She pulled an official looking
document out of an outside pocket of her purse.  She signed it,
witnessed Lyle's signature and said, "Take care of my baby."
	"Aw, mom!" Ryan squealed.
	We waved as the elevator doors closed and then Ryan jumped up,
wrapped his arms around my neck and his legs around my hips.  I had to
quickly grip his little bottom to redistribute the weight.
	"Hey!  You could throw a guy's back out doing that."
	"Sorry, I do it to Daddy all the time."  Then, as I struggled to
close the door behind me, Ryan said, "Can we get naked now?"
	I just about dropped him but let him down gently.
	"Spiderman's strangling me," Ryan said in a serious tone.
	"What?"
	With one quick move, he dropped his trousers into a pool of
fabric around his ankles.  Lifting his shirttail, he exposed his
Spiderman briefs.  The web was distended beyond its original design by
a very formidable crotch bulge for a 14-year-old.  One swift yank and
his shirt was off over his head.  His feet were struggling to rid his
ankles of their binds as his hands reached for the waistband of his
underpants.
	"Whoa!  Stop right there," I said a little more harshly than I'd
wanted to.
	He stopped all movement like we were playing the game of "Freeze!".
	"I'm in charge, not you.  We do things my way.  I mean, you might
be used to this sort of thing but I'm not."  Then in a more
conciliatory tone, I said, "So maybe you'll take it easy on me.  Let me
get used to it at my own pace.  Whaddya say?"
	"Okay." he said complacently as he stepped out of his trousers.
"Can I take my shoes and socks off?  Otherwise, my feet smell like an
old man's butt."
	I wondered how he knew what an old man's butt smelled like but
was afraid to ask.  Instead, I said, "Well, I had planned to rent a
movie, but I guess we can do that later.  Go ahead."
	"I brought my own," Ryan said.  "Do you have a DVD or a VCR?"
	"Both, why?"
	"Great, I brought both."  He darted over to his gym-bag style
overnight case and pulled out one DVD jewel case and a VHS cartridge.
	I thought, 'At least he was considerate enough to bring his own
movies. I didn't think a kid his age would have thought to bring things
to entertain himself.'
	"Twinks or Bears?"
	"What!"
	"Oh, yeah, I forget, young dudes or hairy older guys?"
	"I know what twinks and bears are, but what are you doing with
those?"
	"Dad buys 'em for me.  Actually I think he has someone on his
staff buy them.  It wouldn't be right if he was caught buying 'em
himself, ya know."
	"Maybe we better phone your dad."
	"I'm telling you the truth.  Just make a list of things I tell
you that you don't believe are true and go over the list with Daddy
when he gets back.  I can't be interrupting him all the time."
	"In the meantime, you get to watch the porno video," I chided.
	"It doesn't work like that.  If I lie to Daddy, or anyone else
for that matter, and he finds out, I get punished.  If I lie to you, my
punishment is doubled.  He told you about the rolled up newspaper,
didn't he?"
	"Yeah."
	"So there you go, twinks or bears?"  Then in a shy little-boy
voice he said, "I have a bisexual one if you'd prefer."
	"You little rascal, are you trying to seduce me?"
	"Nah, that would take too much effort.  I just want to jack off."
Ryan nonchalantly plopped down on the sofa to wait patiently for me to
--I don't know, grow up, I guess.
	I took off my shirt, sucking in my gut a little out of habit.  I
toed out of my shoes and unbuckled my belt.  I felt my pecker chubb up
a bit as I realized he was looking at me.
	"Nice body," Ryan said.  "Do you belong to a gym?"
	"No."  I unzipped, then unbuttoned my waistband.
	"Whatcha waitin' for?  I've seen grown men's dicks before.  I'm
not some overly protected snot-nosed kid."
	It occurred to me I had a way to regain control and delay the
impending awkwardness.  "We don't watch videos until we've put our
clothes away."
	Ryan jumped up, bent over, picked up his clothes and raced to the
bedroom.  He was standing there patiently waiting when I walked in.
	"Where should I put 'em?"
	I pointed to the closet.  "The bottom two baskets are empty.  You
can use those."
	Ryan dumped his clothes unceremoniously in the bottom bin.
	"Maybe you want to put away the stuff in your overnight bag, too,"
I said, trying to forestall the inevitable.
	"Okay," he said racing to get the gym bag.
	"Put them away properly." I said as he returned.  "I want 'my
nephew' to look nice at work tomorrow."
	Ryan knelt in front of the baskets, reached in the bag, pulled
out a pair of trousers and a Red Wings T-shirt and gently placed them
in the empty basket.  Reaching in again, he withdrew a pair of rolled
up socks and some fresh underwear.  Because they were folded neatly, I
couldn't make out which comic book character was depicted.
	He stood up facing me and patted his hands up and down in a way
that indicated he was dusting them off.  "How's that?" he asked
obviously pleased with the job he'd done.
	"If you behave like this the rest of your visit, we'll get along
just fine."
	"Let me put your clothes away for you.  I know how.  I help
Daddy all the time."
	Trapped, now that he'd done what I'd asked, I dropped my
trousers.  Ryan picked them up by the cuffs and held them high in the
air so the creases fell straight.  Then, with a quick flip, he had
them folded.
	"Where do they go?"
	"Uh, here," I said, taking them from him, "I'll hang them in the
closet."
	He followed me the three steps to the closet and said, "Now your
socks.  I know where they go."  After I pulled them off and handed them
to him, he raced to the master bath and tossed them in the hamper.
	"You want me to put your underwear in here, too?" Ryan asked,
leaning out the doorway like we were playing peek-a-boo.
	'He's a sly rascal,' I thought.  "How about if we keep these on
for a while?"
	"Okay," he said cheerfully.  "Can we watch the movie now?"
	I knew he'd never take 'no' for an answer.  I have to admit, too,
I love lazily strokin' my dick while watching porno.  I reasoned that
it would keep me from having to come up with something to entertain
him.  Also, if I could watch the video and wait till he went to sleep,
I could go into the guest bathroom and jack off.  I swatted him
playfully on the back of the head and said, "Twinks or bears?"
	"I know what I like.  I want to know which you like," he said as
we made our way back to the living room.
	"Twinks," I said in exasperation.
	"Me, too."   Ryan tossed me the DVD and I slid it in the player.
	Somehow, I think I would have gotten the same response if I'd
said, "Bears."  I get the impression he just likes anything pertaining
to sex.
	He patted the seat on the sofa, so I sat next to him.  The fly of
my boxers gapped open but I didn't try to adjust it.  You couldn't see
anything but pubic hair anyway.
	The video began and about two minutes into it, before the action
really got started, Ryan said, "You know, I've got a  pet fly in my
spider web.  Want to see it?"
	Naturally, I looked at his underpants.  Ryan must have
interpreted that as a 'yes' because he reached in and pulled out his
stiffy.
	"Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly," Ryan chanted.
	All I could do was stare--and process information.  For a 14-
year-old, his cock was well on its way to maturity.  It was two inches
across and at least five inches long--or in his present seated
position--tall.
	"I like these underpants," Ryan said, "the fly is so snug it
keeps my dick hard without much effort on my part.  And then, when I
play with it, it gets real sensitive."
	I looked at the TV screen to see two blond swimmer-types engaged
in a less than stellar performance. Even so, my dick began to rise as
if conditioned by endless nights of practice to respond to such visual
stimulation.
	"Can I see yours?  You don't have to be ashamed if it's not big.
Daddy says nobody gets to choose how big his dick is gonna be."
	"It's not that, Ryan.  It's just that you're ... underage and..."
	"And you don't go for kids.  I know.  It's not like I'm askin' if
I can suck your dick or anything.  It's just two guys with hard-ons
needing to get a nutt."
	I thought, 'I can't believe I'm hearing this familiar argument
coming from a kid.'
	"I'll suck you, though, if that's what it takes for you to show
it to me."
	"Ryan, I'm not being coy with you.  I really feel uncomfortable
being naked with you."
	"Dad got over it.  Uncle Marty got over it.  You will, too, if
you'd just take 'em off.  I'll tell you what," Ryan said, using his
fingertips to gently caress his fat cock shaft.  "If you take 'em off,
until these two cum, you can put 'em back on afterward--if you still
want to."
	I wondered what kind of scam he was working on me.  'These two
probably don't cum until the end of the movie.'  Nevertheless, I stood
up and yanked my boxers off.  My dick went to full hard before I had a
chance to sit down.
	"Wow!  That's bigger than Daddy's.  I knew you'd have a big one."
	I wondered if he had ever seen his dad's dick hard or whether he
was just trying to compliment me.  "You knew?  How?"
	"Big feet, fingers and noses don't lie and you've got all three.
Can I touch it ... or is it too soon?" I sat down, spread my legs wide
and said, "You can touch it but only for a minute."
	Ryan turned toward me, sitting cross-legged Indian style and
gripped my cock.  It felt like a lightning bolt shot up through my ass
and out my piss hole.
	"Jeez, you're touchy." Ryan said, as I jumped.  "How long has it
been since you cummed?"
	"A couple of days."
	"Days!  Jeez, I'd die!  A couple of hours and I get jumpy."
	"I was worrying about you," I said with all those nights of
frightful images of being set up going through my mind at once.
	"Don't worry about me.  I can cum seven or eight times a day," he
said, misunderstanding what I meant.  His grip had eased up to rest
lightly around my cock.  The fingers of his left hand barely able to
encircle it, Ryan said, nodding toward the TV, "Watch this, it's
awesome!"  He stroked me with a feather-light touch of his fingertips.
	I looked at the screen to see a slender mop-haired youth bend
down to suck his own cock.  He had his arms under his thighs and his
biceps bulged from the exertion.
	"I wish I could do that!" Ryan said in awe.
	"Me, too," I said, wistfully.
	"You know, if I suck you, I have to use a condom.  Is there one
brand you like better than another?"
	"Uh ... I ... no."
	"So there is, huh?" Ryan asked realizing I was trying to avert
yet another uncomfortable topic.  "The lubricated ones with the
reservoir tips are best for jacking off but the dry ones are better for
sucking.  They're not as yucky in your mouth.  Do you know if
nonoxynol-9 is dangerous if you get it in your mouth?  I wouldn't think
so.  I mean, if you can put it up your butt, I wouldn't think it would
be toxic."
	Ryan's tender caresses were exciting me to a minor frenzy but his
incessant chatter kept it just below the point of explosion.
	"If you could suck yourself, would you swallow your own cum?"
	I shuddered at the thought--not out of disgust but from the
visuals a kid this age could create from a simple question.  It finally
began to dawn on me that Ryan wasn't the way he was because he was--as
his father put it--a rascal but because he had a genuine zeal for
learning.  I'm sure, at some point, he realized his point-blank
questions startled or embarrassed people and that's why he continued to
keep doing it, but it was his lust for knowledge that caused him to be
so forward.
	"Well, would you?" he asked insistently?
	"Yeah."
	"Me, too.  I love the taste.  Once Daddy has you submit to an HIV
test, we can exchange cum.  Did you know that?  If you want to I mean.
You don't have to, but you could if you wanted to.  Did you ever get
butt-fucked?"
	I looked at the TV to see the twinks on screen were engaged in
anal activity.
	"Yes," I said without elaboration, hoping he wouldn't pursue it.
	"I haven't.  Have you ever licked another guy's butt?  You know,
in the hot spot?"
	"Yes."
	"Me, too, but he was clean.  Clean in the medical sense.  Well,
clean the other way, too.  You can touch me if you want."
	I reached over to tentatively hold his pecker but the Spiderman
shorts caused a pang of guilt.  "Uh, could you take those off?  Maybe
if you were naked, you'd look more grown up and I'd ..."
	"Sure."  He stood on the sofa cushions, jerked his cock back
through the fly and dropped them, all in one motion it seemed.  He had
a sparse dusting of pubic hair that was almost invisible because it was
blond.  It was only because his groin was at eye level to me that I was
able to see it.  From a distance, he'd look bald down there.  I had to
admit, the size of his dick and, without the underpants, he could pass
for a young adult--an appealing young man.
	I reached for him and he took another unsteady step closer across
the cushion.
	"Daddy told me you can do whatever you want as long as it's okay
with me."
	"He did, did he?"
	"Yeah.  He trusts you.  He said you'd never do anything to hurt
me."
	"He's right."  It's funny, but when I said that out loud, it
confirmed for me that I really did have a special fondness for this
precocious little kid.  Not love--by any stretch of the imagination,
but I had a deep desire to protect and educate the rascal.
	"Have you ever kissed a guy using your tongue?  It's called
Frenching."
	"Yes."  My one-word answers hadn't worked in the past to deter
him but I kept hoping.
	"Before or after you licked his hiney?"
	"Both."
	"Oh, wow!  Would you lick my butt and then kiss me?"
	"You don't fool me.  You're just trying to con me into rimming
you."
	"So that's a 'yes?'"
	I smiled.
	Ryan turned slowly, bent over and rested both hands on the
armrest.
	'What the hell!' I thought.  I flat-tongued him from his balls up
to his butt hole and back down.  The next time, I licked upward and
pointed my tongue when I got to his anus.  This time, it twitched in
anticipation of my touch.
	"Don't tighten up.  Relax and enjoy it, okay?"
	"Ungh."
	I poked and prodded until his stargate opened to my attention.  I
slipped inside a little way and Ryan shuddered.
	"That's wicked!" Ryan said as he turned quickly, threw his arms
around my neck and kissed me.
	We tongue-dueled as my cock jumped in anticipation of a fuck--
getting a fuck or giving a fuck--it didn't care which.  My cock oozed
pre-cum as if on cue.
	"That's not so bad," Ryan said, darting his tongue in and out of
his mouth, savoring the taste.
	"You've never done that before?" I asked, worried that I might
have overstepped my boundaries.
	"Nope.  Just rimmed him, but I didn't kiss him afterward."  Then
Ryan asked matter-of-factly, "Can I rim you?"
	I knew I was going to give in eventually, so I said, "Sure."
	Ryan jumped off the sofa, stood between my outspread legs and
dropped to his knees.  "I saw this in a video once.  Raise your legs
and scoot your butt off the cushion."
	I felt like a porno star being directed to pose for a better
camera angle--but I did it.  When his tender young tongue touched my
love knot, enough electrical energy flowed through me to light up the
city of Las Vegas.  "Oh, Jesus H. Christ, Ryan.  That's incredible.
You're tongue is like the kiss of an angel."
	I looked between my splayed thighs to see a proud smile on his
face.  "Really?  You're not fuckin' with my mind, are you?  That
wouldn't be nice.  I'm just a kid and I need to know if I'm doing
things right or not."
	"No, son, you're really talented.  I guess when you want to do
something badly enough, you just do it right!"
	"Hey, you called me 'son!'  That's way kewl."
	"I did?"
	"Yeah."
	"You sure?"
	"Yep.  That means that deep down you really like me."
	"My liking you is no secret.  You're a really nice kid who
deserves to be ... appreciated."
	Ryan lowered his head and I expected him to start rimming me
again.  Instead, his mouth descended  over my cock, taking the first
five inches easily.
	"Oh, god, don't!" I shouted.  "I'll cum!"
	He backed off immediately.  "Really?"
	"Ryan, something's goin' on here that I don't understand but
you've got me hotter'n a sun spot."
	"It's cuz I'm so cute, huh?"
	"Yeah," I chuckled.  "That's it."
	"I'll bet it helps that I have a big dick, too, huh?"
	"Oh, yeah.  That definitely helps."
	"And you want to fuck my butt, don'tcha?"
	"Now that's something that, although I think I'd like to do,
we're gonna have to ease into."
	"You mean ease into my butt?" Ryan giggled.
	"You know what I mean."
	Ryan ducked into my musk box and licked my starburst again, this
time wetting it thoroughly.  Then just as quickly, he raised up to kiss
me.  The full weight of his body landed on my groin and chest.  His
cock dueled with mine for space between our bellies.  Breaking the kiss
he asked, "Can I fuck you sometime?"
	I smiled.  "Now would be good."
	"I'll be right back."  He was gone and back before I had a chance
to tell him I had condoms in every room of the apartment, including the
kitchen!  He was rolling the latex onto his fat man-sized boy cock as
he returned.  "Do you use lube?"
	I saw he was using a lubricated condom.  "I'll be okay.  Have you
ever done this before?"
	"Yeah," he said reservedly.
	I felt I was beginning to learn how to read Ryan's responses and
this one sounded different.  "Don't fib about this.  It's important.
If you haven't, we have to do it a little differently."
	"Almost."
	"So you haven't.
	"Not really."
	"Okay.  That's better.  Never lie to your partner.  Bad things
can happen."
	"Yes, sir." Ryan said like he was being reprimanded.
	"I'm only telling you this because you could hurt someone--
especially with a dick the size of yours--and they could sue you."
	His eyes widened as he comprehended what I was saying.
	"When I tell you to start, slide it in until the head pops in and
stop.  That's the anal sphincter.  It's gonna feel so good, you'll want
to push it all the way in but respect your partner and let him get used
to it.  Then slide a little farther in, two or three inches, I'd guess.
There's a second ring, the rectal sphincter.  Once you've gotten the
head past that, stop again.  Then, once your partner gives you the go
ahead, you can go deeper.  After that, you'll be ready to ride.
Understand?"
	Ryan nodded his head as he processed the instructions.
	"Okay, let's go.  Oh, but before you do, if I tell you to pull
out, you have to do it, no matter how good it feels.  Promise?"
	"I promise."
	Ryan eased the even fatter head of his fat cock into the first
ring and stopped.  I had my hands positioned at his hips, just in case
he tried to shove it all in at once.  His eyes rolled back into his
head as the sensation of fucking his first man washed over him like
honey on warm toast.
	"Okay," I said.  "Go through the next ring."
	Again he eased forward, delighting in the feelings.
	"Yeah, that's it, son.  You're doin' great."
	Ryan's eyes flew open to look at me intensely.
	"What?" I asked.
	"You called me 'son' again."  Then he leaned forward and kissed me
again.
	The motion slid the rest of his cock into me.  For me at that
moment, there was no greater pleasure on earth.  It was a grand slam
home run in the last inning to win the pennant.  It was the first walk
on the moon.  It was an angel in my backdoor.
	"You really want to make it with your father, don't you?"
	"That would be kewl," Ryan said, trying way too hard to sound
noncommittal.
	I didn't want this first experience to be unpleasant so I left it
at that, except to say, "But I'll do, huh?"
	"Fuck yeah!"
	"Okay, start moving in and out."
	Once he had a rhythm going he asked, "How come the guys in the
video don't have to stop each time?"
	"They're professionals.  They do it all the time and their body's
are used to it."
	"Kinda like cock sucking.  You can only take so much until you
get used to it and then you can swallow more, huh?"
	"Usually.  With practice."
	"Can I practice with you.  I mean, later ... you know, can I come
over again sometime ... for a sleepover, so I can learn to just shove
it in like a porno star?"
	My asshole twitched at that pleasant thought.  I hugged him to me
as he continued to thrust in and out.  "Has anyone ever been able to
tell you 'no?'"
	"Sure, lots of times."
	"Name one."
	"Daddy."
	"I mean other than family."
	"Nope.  Never."  Then he grinned and gave me a little peck on the
lips.  "Will you teach me how to get fucked ... when the time is
right?"
	"Don't you have someone your own age who can ... well, who's not
as big as me?"
	"Lots of 'em but I don't want them to do it.  I want you to do
it."
	"Well, let's get through tonight's sleepover first and we'll
see."
	"Oh goodie--when Daddy says that, he means 'yes.'"
	"Well, when I say it, it means, 'we'll see.'"
	I hunched my ass up a little to see if I could change the
trajectory of his dick and have him hit my prostate.  "Did you feel
that?"
	"Yeah.  Was that ... you know, a turd?"
	"No," I chuckled.  "That's my prostate.  I'll find yours later,
with my finger, and let you see how it feels.  In the meantime, see if
you can find mine again and try hitting it more often, okay?"
	"K," he said, determination written all over his face.
	Within four moves, Ryan was pounding my prostate as effectively
as a carpenter pounds a nail.
	"This is awesome, Uncle Dickey," Ryan crooned.  "This is way
better than jackin' off."
	"It's pretty special for me, too.  You're hittin' my ol' prostate
just about every time.  You keep that up and you'll make me cum."
	"I can?"  Within a minute, I felt my load begin its ascent from
my balls, creating an itchy feeling as they crawled closer to my dick
root.  Then, just before I screamed I was cumming, I felt the burning
sensation deep inside my cum tube that told me it was too late to stop
the flow.  It burst out of my piss hole with such force it actually
hurt.  It was like trying to push a basketball through a vacuum cleaner
hose.
	I did a stomach crunch because of the pleasure/pain and the spurt
hit me right under my chin.  Ryan's eyes widened in amazement.  "Wow!"
he whispered.  "You never even touched yourself!"  He kept fucking.
	I kept cumming--more than I'd ever cum.  It sounds cliche to say
it but I did.  In the span of maybe three seconds, I thought of all the
reasons why I was cumming like a teenager again.  I hadn't cum in three
days.  I was with a first time partner.  I was being fucked by an
amateur.  Ryan's cockhead was so fat.  Ryan's cock was just the right
length and girth. I was being fucked by jailbait.  It probably all came
down to the fact I was being fucked by someone I cared so much about--
no matter what his age.
	Ryan tensed, arched his back, slammed into me one last butt-
bruising time and began to cum.
	I felt his cock lurch and jerk as spurt after squirt filled the
condom.  I felt his jittery trembles as his body reacted to his first
butt-fuck orgasm.  I felt him fall forward, unable to sustain his own
weight in an upright position.
	As his aftershock tremors coursed through his body and out his
cock I kissed his cheek affectionately.  He turned his head slightly to
kiss me full-mouthed and passionately.
	"Thanks, Uncle Dickey.  That was the best!"
	We laid like that for almost ten minutes before I had him pull
out of my ass--he was still half hard.  "I'm going to start dinner.
Hungry?"
	"Uhh huh," Ryan said dreamily.  "I'm a growing boy."  He smiled
weakly.  I don't think he'd ever had an orgasm that drained him so
thoroughly.
	I poured the spaghetti sauce in a pan, got the meatballs I'd made
the night before out of the refrigerator and added them to it.  Then I
put a pot of water on to boil and measured out enough pasta for three.
'If Ryan is anything like I was as a teen, he's gonna be hungry as hell
after such a workout,' I thought.
	I jumped as I felt Ryan wrap his arms around my waist.
	"Where do you want this?" he asked as he held up his condom.
	I expected to see a trace amount of thin, watery semen in the
reservoir but was shocked to see almost an inch of healthy looking baby
makers.  'Enough to float a battleship,' I thought.
	He released his grip on me as I turned.  "On my toast with
dinner," I said, trying to shock Ryan like he does others.
	"Awesome!  Me too!  How long do I have?"
	"To what?"
	"Jack off another load for MY toast."
	I rolled my eyes and laid the condom on the counter to dispose of
after I got dinner started.
	Ryan bent down slightly and sucked my cock into his mouth for a
couple of quick slurps.  "You had some dangling."
	"You're supposed to be practicing safe sex, young man!"
	"Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  But it looked so good.  Besides, you're
clean.  Did you know that under the Patriot Act, Daddy could get access
to your medical records.  He's not gonna but he could.  He trusts you,
you know.  Can I lick your butt again?  I just want to see if there's a
difference now that I've fucked you."	Without waiting, he turned me
around, gently pressed on my back so I'd lean forward and began lapping
at my hole.  "Sticky," he said.  "I think it's the lube.  Did you enema
yourself just in case we had sex?  Guys do that, you know.  In fact,
when I was just a kid, I thought that's what they meant when they
talked about 'clean' sex.  But now I'm older and I know better.  Did
you know I started jacking off when I was nine?  I met this guy ..."
	"Uh, Ryan ... uh, let's save that story for after dinner, okay?"
	"Sure.  Before we look at the bears video?"
	"I'm not sure I can watch two in one night."  I knew I could if I
were alone, but with Ryan in the apartment, I was afraid he'd wear me
out.
	Ryan was slightly less manic by the time I put dinner on the
table.  At Ryan's insistence, we stayed naked, but he found two towels
in the closet and laid them across the chair seats.
	"That's very thoughtful, Ryan.  Thank you"
	"By staying naked, if we spill spaghetti sauce on us, we won't
stain our clothes."
	I don't know if he comes up with the excuses after he decides to
perform some unorthodox act or if the excuse occurs first and then he
thinks up an act to fit the criteria.
	"Look, Uncle Dickey," Ryan put a whole meatball in his mouth
and slowly let it escape his pursed lips until it fell back onto his
plate.  "That's what my cock looked like from the inside going into
your butt.  You do it and let me see what I look like."
	His infectious giggle and harmless playfulness caused me to want
to please him.  I popped an especially big meatball in my mouth, blew
my cheeks out and bulged my eyes.  Then I began pushing.  Just as I
felt I was going to lose it, I sucked it back in and began pushing it
out again.  I repeated it several times, building up speed as I got
more practice.
	He stared at my lips, fascinated by what he saw.  Jumping up, he
said, "Look, you gave me a stiffy doing that!"  Then, looking over my
shoulder he said, "Oh, you forgot."
	Before I could stop him, he had rushed into the kitchen,
returned, upended the condom over my garlic toast and squeezed the cum
out.  I had been forced in prison to do much worse things, so I grabbed
the toast and took a big bite.  I just about gagged trying to chew both
the meatball and the toast at the same time.
	It only took Ryan ten or twelve strokes before he reached for his
toast, laid his cock head on it and squirted jism all over it.  He
lifted it to his mouth and took a big bite.  "Umm," he said, smiling
and rubbing his belly in circles.
	After swallowing, I said, "Come here."
	He was only half a pace away but I turned sideways, away from the
table, gripped his hips and sucked his cock into my mouth for a couple
of slurps.  "Can't have any garlic on your dick, you know."
	"Hey!  You know what would be kewl?  If I could eat dinner off
your belly and you know, down there?"
	"I'm not sure I want hot spaghetti sauce on my crotch."
	Ryan grabbed a single strand of pasta and began encircling his
cock with it.  "I'll feed you and you feed me."
	I leaned over and sucked the coil of pasta off his dick.  "This
could take all night and you need to get to bed if you plan to go to
work with me in the morning."
	"Just a few strands, please?"
	Hoping he'd soon tire of the game when he realized he was
hungrier for food than sex, I said, "Okay, but just a few."
	Ryan coiled several strands around my dick and deep-throated me
to suck it all off at once.  Then he did it again.  Before I knew it,
all that was left on the plate were the meatballs and sauce.  Using
just his mouth, he sucked up a meatball, kissed me and passed the meat
to me.  While I chewed and swallowed, he lapped up a mouthful of sauce
and transferred it to me the same way.
	Once my plate was empty, he said, ""Now do me."
	I lifted him easily onto the tabletop and carefully laid him on
his back.  His dinner had cooled, so I dumped the whole plate on his
crotch.  Using only my mouth, like he did, I fed him.  Instead of one
stand at a time, I lifted a mouthful, strings dangling and lowered them
into his open mouth.  I shoved whole meatballs into his mouth and
French-kissed him before I let him chew it.  While he was eating his
meatball, I was sucking on his fat meaty cock.  It was the best meal
I'd ever eaten--bar none.
	"Let's hit the showers," I said when we were done.
	"I thought we were gonna have banana splits," Ryan whined.
	"I'm too full.  Maybe later."
	"Okay," Ryan said, wrapping his arms around my neck.
	I thought he wanted me to help lift him off the table.  Instead,
he wrapped his legs around me again and began to squirm, rubbing his
sticky pasta sauce all over my belly.  I had him supported by holding
his buttocks, so when my cock shot up to full erection, I lowered him
until my cockhead teased his asshole.
	His eyes widened in anticipation.
	I had no intention of fucking him.  I only wanted to tease him
like he had been doing to me all night.  "Not tonight, sport."
	"Awh, why not?" he whined.
	"I want your first time to be special--something you'll remember
fondly for the rest of your life."
	"Was that the way it was for you?"
	"No.  I know WHO it was but I don't remember much about the
actual event.  That's why I want it to be different for you."
	I carried him to the shower stall in the master bath with him
dangling off me like a monkey.  "Turn on the shower," I said.  It was
one large cut crystal-looking ball and his hand looked so small around
it.  "Turn it so the arrow goes all the way around once.  That should
be just the right temperature."
	Without letting go, he leaned back so the spray splashed between
our chests and bellies, forming a pool around his groin.  Eventually
it overflowed to gently cascade over his hips and down my legs.  He
leaned in and kissed me.  "You're the best uncle ever."
	"How many uncles have you, uh ... been with?"
	"Just uncle Marty."
	I waited for him to mention his math teacher or his coach that
his father had told me about.  "Anybody else?"
	"Just my math teacher but he's not an uncle.  Uncles are special.
Want me to get down so we can soap each other up?"
	Since my arms were getting tired, I said as offhandedly as
he does, "Okay."
	He grabbed the soap and began washing my cock and balls.
"You'll have to get the top part.  I can only reach the good stuff."
	I smiled as I took the soap he offered and lathered my chest and
armpits.  I felt him rubbing my equipment like he wanted another round
of sex, so I turned my back to him.  Handing him back the soap, he ran
it up and down the crack of my ass several times.
	I rinsed, knelt and began soaping Ryan.  He got an instant boner
but I ignored it.  I turned him so I could wash his back and butt,
running my fingertip across his sensitive pucker.  He began jacking
himself and as I brushed his hand away, I said, "Not this time, rascal,
I have other plans for that."   I stepped out of the stall and said,
"Rinse off and we'll fix dessert."
	One quick pirouette under the cascade and Ryan bounded out of the
shower.  I tossed a towel--almost bigger than he is--so it landed on
his head and dropped down over his face.  "Dry off and meet me in the
kitchen--and no jackin' off!"  I shouldn't have wasted my breath.  Ryan
followed me, drying himself as he went.
	"Would you get the ice cream out of the freezer, please.  Make
sure your fingers are dry or they'll stick to it like a tongue on a
frozen pipe."  I got the cherries, chopped nuts, chocolate syrup,
pineapple chunks and whipped cream out of the fridge.  "Want to peel
the banana for me?"
	Working together like we'd been doing it all our lives, we built
two beautiful banana splits.  We sat at the table and fed each other a
spoonful every once in a while.  Ryan wanted to spray his crotch with
whipped cream and top his erection with a cherry but I told him 'no.'
He sulked for a moment or two but brightened quickly when I said,
"We'll do that the next time you come over."
	"All right!  I knew you'd get comfortable having a kid around."
	"We haven't made it through tomorrow yet, so you could ruin it
very easily."
	"I won't, I promise."
	I put the dishes in the dishwasher, including the ones we used
for dinner.  I hustled Ryan into the bedroom.  "I don't suppose you'd
want me to sleep in YOUR room with you, would you?"
	"Try sleeping on the sofa and I'll keep you awake all night.  I
can do it, you know.  I've had practice.  I got rid of a baby sitter
like that once."
	"I believe you," I chuckled.  "The only thing is," I said
seriously, "I have satin sheets, so we'll have to wear pajamas."
	The look on Ryan's face was worth a million bucks.
	"Just kidding," I said, smiling.
	"That's mean!"
	"Why?"
	"I've been looking forward to having your cock snuggled up my
butt crack for months."
	"Months?  I haven't known you that long."
	"I tend to exaggerate some times.  Months, weeks, it's been a
long time."
	"Which side do you like?"
	"The left."
	We turned down the bed and crawled in.  Ryan snuggled his back
up to me, fluffed up his pillow under his head and then reached
between his legs to capture my cock.  He pulled it through, making a
prisoner of it with his thighs.
	"Did you finally get settled?" I asked after that flurry of
activity.
	"Yep."
	"Good.  Now, get up and turn out the light."
	When he returned he went through the same ritual, only this
time in the dark.  When he had my cock where he wanted it he said,
"When it gets hard during the night, it'll sneak up my butt crack.
That feels really awesome.  It doesn't wake me up but in the morning,
I wake up in a good mood."
	Sometime during the night, in fact, I felt Ryan pressing his
butt cheeks around my hard-on like a hot dog bun around a wiener.  It
was a nice feeling.  I almost woke myself up worrying I'd
accidentally fuck him, but fell back asleep knowing he'd love it even
if it happened accidentally.

Please consider checking out stories written by my friends at
www.a2zestful.com.  They are well written, edited for grammar and
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