Date: Fri, 09 Dec 2016 17:34:16 -0500
From: The Paternal Watcher <mfvb@protonmail.com>
Subject: Tick removal

The knock at my office door was soft, but easy to hear in the quiet that
settles on a house after midnight. It was followed by the door opening
far enough to allow my stepson's head entry.

"Hey, I've got a problem I'd like you to look at," he said. "Do you have
a minute?"

I closed my laptop and said, "Sure, what's up?"

He stepped all the way in, closing the door softly behind him so as not
to wake his mother. He was dressed as he did for bed -- that is, in
nothing at all. "I think I might have a tick, but I can't get a good
look."

"Where do you think?" I asked, not fazed by his nudity. We were far from
a casually naked family, but he and I had seen each other's bodies a
number of times over the years. At sixteen, his six-foot frame was still
lean and smooth from his growth spurt, but his body was definitely in
proportion. The dark hair on his head matched the soft nest upon which
his cut cock and meaty balls gently lay. His abdomen was flat, while his
pecs and thighs were starting to fill out.

Moving his testicles to the side with his left hand, he pointed with his
right. "There's a spot on my thigh, there. I can't tell, though."

"Well, let's have a look then," I said, swiveling my chair for a closer
inspection. My heart skipped hopefully, but in all the years I'd quietly
admired his body, he had never given any indication of interest, and I
wasn't expecting that to change now. Especially with his mother asleep in
the next room.

I peered at the spot, and saw what made him curious. It was a tiny, dark
spot that could be a mole, but for it turning up suddenly. Straining to
see, I turned my desk lamp directly at his crotch and still had no luck.
I slid off the chair, onto my knees, so I could look at it on the same
level.

"Turn towards me," I said, moving his left hand aside with my own so I
could push his balls away. As he complied, I peered at my target from
about three inches away, and the scent of the scrotum crept into my
nostrils. "Yes, I think you're right. Grab me the tweezers from my desk
drawer?"

He did so by bending over me, and I felt the heat of his hairless torso
close to my head, matching the heat of the soft testicles in my hand. My
face felt hotter still. As he reached, his penis smushed against my
fingers, and I clenched reflexively. He laughed as he stood back up with
the tweezers in hand.

"Be nice," he said as he handed them to me. I couldn't read his smile.

I had him put his affected leg on the chair behind me, so his balls would
dangle out of the way as I removed the little parasite. I got it without
difficulty, but it hung onto a bit of flesh, leaving a tiny wound on the
inner thigh. Setting the bug aside, I grabbed his thigh in one hand,
pushing aside his balls with the other, and kissed the wound.

"To make it feel better," I said.

"Be nice," he repeated, laughing.

"How much nicer do you want me to be?" I asked. "Should I suck the poison
out?"

He laughed again, and then said, "Sure."

I blinked, then returned my mouth to the wound, sucking gently on the
smooth skin of his inner thigh. "If I suck harder, I might leave a mark,
and that wouldn't be nice," I said.

"I know where you could suck harder," he replied, his face now a study in
stone.

His voice was thick, but not so his dick. He was still limp, slightly
shriveled, even. He must have had iron control, to make that comment and
not show it down below. I looked in his eyes, holding his gaze long
enough to know that he wasn't kidding, and then I aimed to end his limp
state.

"Suck harder?" I asked quietly, "like this?" I turned my head, touching
his own smaller head with my lips, and sucked his soft penis into my
mouth with a quick motion. The flesh reached only about two-thirds of the
way back, and I pushed it into the roof of my mouth with my tongue
briefly before spitting it back out. "Like spaghetti?" I asked.

His face betrayed the rush of emotions as it caught up with him, warm and
wet followed by cool as it began to dry. "Spaghetti . . . " was all he
managed to say. I was tempted to ruin the moment with a wisecrack, but
instead I decided to just suck the dick that was finally getting hard in
front of me. There is nothing that quite compares to the feeling of
squishy man-flesh filling out and firming up in one's mouth, so I slurped
his back into my mouth while it was still soft -- though visibly
lengthening -- so I could feel that happen. This time, his cock covered
my tongue most of the way back, and I rolled the head around as it
entered. He shuddered slightly, and I remembered he was keeping his
balance on just one foot.

Mindful of the need to avoid discovery, I stood up and whispered closely
into his ear. "Lie down on the bed and you won't regret it," I said. My
office had a single in there, as it sometimes doubled as a guest room. He
nodded, then sat on the edge of the bed and laid back, spreading his legs
wide so I could have as much access as I wanted.

"Don't stop," he said, his eyes closed. I curled my fingers around his
girth -- now thick and hard as it could get -- and pulled it away from
his taut abdomen so I could swirl my tongue around the head, and then
flick the tip a couple of times before going down on him again, and
eliciting an intake of breath in response. This time, I couldn't come
close to fitting his ample cock down my gullet, so I began the patient
rhythm of breathing through my nose as I slid up and down his shaft.

As I worked, I watched his abdomen tense and relax, tense and relax,
revealing its muscles each time the skin tightened. The hint of a trail
of hair rode that wave as it traced its way from his navel down below my
nose, which I was aiming to bury in his nest of pubic hair, which formed
a clear triangle with edges unblurred by any other sproutings nearby. He
was otherwise still as I moved my head up and down, allowing me to get
lower onto his cock with each pass.

To rest, I withdrew and oh-so-gently ran the tips of my teeth over his
head, provoking a quick intake of breath and nothing more. I could see
his six-pack clearly as I swirled tongue around the tip and kissed it up
and down, because he was taut and, I realized, still holding that breath.
Feeling daring, I wet my finger and swiped it along his ass crack even as
I went down on him again, managing to get within two inches of my goal.
The breath was released explosively, and he thrust back into me, deeper
than before. Then, he spread his legs, bracing his feet against the
mattress as he prepared for more serious face-fucking.

He placed his hands on the back of my head, prompting me to pull off his
penis and say, "Be nice." Understanding, he left them there but did not
push down. For all his evident maturity, his inner thighs were smooth as
silk. I rubbed my cheek along them, then kissed my way to his balls. As I
lightly nibbled the base of his shaft, I probed down beneath to his
clenching button, rubbing gently.

He clenched his sphincter, locking me out. "No sucky, no finger-fucky,"
he said, grabbing his cock and bending it at my face.

"Fine," I said. I stuck my middle finger all the way in my mouth, getting
it good and wet before removing it to show him. Then, I put his cock back
exactly where he wanted it, while putting that moistened finger at his
lower gate. This time, he allowed entry, but I didn't go past the first
knuckle. No need to scare him. He advanced my cause himself as he began
thrusting up to meet my lips, causing my finger to slide a little bit
deeper up my ass with each push to fill my face.

I was soon in to the second knuckle, but he was thrusting hard enough
that my eyes were watering, and I had to pull off or puke on his cock.
"Trust me?" I said.

"Okay," he replied.

I slid my finger back out and wrapped my hand around him. My fingers
barely overlapped around his girth. As I began to stroke his meat, I put
my tongue where the finger had been, and he clearly appreciated the
gesture. He stifled a groan as he opened to me, lifting his thighs out of
my way with his hands. "God, yeah," he whispered. "So fucking good."

My own penis was aching in my pants, but with one hand masturbating the
boy and the other helping hold open his near-hairless hole, there wasn't
much I could do about it. I was not at all surprised that he didn't think
to offer any assistance, either: at sixteen years old, most boys don't
realize that it feels good for anybody else yet.

His fingers dug into my hair in a way that signaled it was time to shift
gears. I stopped stroking and grabbed his cock firmly in my fist and laid
my head beside him. "Fuck my throat," I said. Without hesitation, he got
on all fours atop the mattress, and I moved underneath him, my head
pointed towards his feet. He did exactly as I asked, sliding his girth
past my lips and thrust it deep into my throat, again and again.

Much to my surprise, I felt his hands at my own fly, seeking to free me.
His hand felt me through two layers of fabric, then one, and when he
finally grasped me the anticipation which had built up sent me shooting.
I guess he had some of that going on too, because he came just as he
grabbed me, too, forcing me to swallow through my own orgasm. I could
barely moan lest his seed go down the wrong pipe, and I was blinded by a
combination of the tears filling my eyes for the strain and the intense
pleasure that made my lower limbs flail spastically.

As he withdrew his meat from my mouth, I grabbed it with my hand,
reluctant for the moment to end. It was still hard, and my gentle squeeze
milked another drop of semen from its end. He gave a slight moan, but
would not remain.

"If mom wakes up and finds me here like this, we're both dead," he said
in a whisper. I nodded and sat up; he was right, of course.

He smiled as he slipped out the door, but stuck his head back in as I
called his name.

"I can't wait until you get a case of poison ivy," I said.