Message-ID: <135316Z23121995@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an225037@anon.penet.fi (Baloo)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an225037@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 23 Dec 1995 13:46:09 UTC
Subject: A Christmas Story (M/b pedo)
Lines: 435


           ********WARNING************

This is a paedophilic story about sexual love and contact between 
a man and boy.

If you are under the age of consent in your country, please do 
not read further.

If reading or possessing this is going to make you a criminal in 
your country, think hard before continuing.  I take no 
responsibility for any consequences to you.

If you are unable to distinguish fantasy from reality, and think 
this story might make you go out and behave in a criminal way in 
your country, do not read it.  You are responsible for your own 
actions, and if not, should not be allowed out without 
supervision.

If this type of story is not to your taste, and you are going to 
find it distressing and unpleasant, then why are you reading it?  
The posting should be clearly marked, and if not the warning is 
clear enough.  Go find something better to do with your time than 
wasting it on things you will not enjoy.

To the rest of you, I hope you enjoy this story.
     
      ******** A Christmas Story **********

                 Twas the night before Christmas,
                 And all through the house,
                 Not a creature was stirring,
                 Not even a mouse.......

"Simon"

The boy gazed steadily out the window, oblivious to the teacher's 
voice calling to him.

"Simon," she raised her voice again, careful to keep any 
accusatory note from the call, "please pay attention."

Simon's eyes snapped back to his teacher, and she regretted not 
leaving him to his own thoughts. Since his mother had died three 
years ago there had been a bleak and distant look to the boy 
which was most unsettling to the adults around him. The teacher 
remembered well the first few weeks afterwards, a memory of a 
small six year old boy, wandering around dejected and aimless. 
They had thought that he would get over it, but his father had 
seemingly lost interest, and so the boy had had to cope alone. 
Now all the teachers constantly spoke about Simon in the staff 
room, not because of any overt mis-behaviour, but because of the 
aura of gloom that surrounded the lad wherever he was. They had 
even spoken with the local Social Services, who had followed up 
the possibility he was being mistreated, but they had found his 
father, though never showing any love or affection for his son, 
to be keeping him clothed, fed, and as clean as any other young 
boy.
Now they just muttered darkly about having "that boy" in the 
class for the afternoon.

He had been thinking, which was not unusual for him, he had found 
a little comfort in the past few years in creating fantasy worlds 
for himself. But this time he had been thinking not of fairy-tale 
worlds, but of his adventures the previous summer, and his plans 
for the next week, Christmas!

During the summer holidays he had, as usual, been left to his own 
devices. Since his mother had died, it had been as if his dad was 
a machine, doing what was needed around the house, giving him 
money to go places, but never coming with him, really talking to 
him, or even touching him. In the summer he took the bus down to 
the beach, spent the day playing, then went home for supper and 
bed. Unlike other youngsters on their own, he never seemed to 
make friends, and tended to go far down the sandy shore away from 
anyone else.

Half way the holidays, he had gone to his usual place, only to 
find a man already there, lying back on a towel sunbathing. Simon 
was only sightly put out by this intrusion into what he 
considered his private domain, and started to play as always, 
building complexed tunnels and towers from the damp sand. As he 
worked, he got the feeling he was being watched, and started to 
glance round at the man. At first he was not sure, as the chap 
was wearing dark glasses, but the boy persisted, peering under 
his arms, and back between his legs. It was while he was bending 
over, legs spread wide, that he saw the man prop himself up on 
one elbow, and stare straight at his upturned rump.

He turned to face the man and sat down cross-legged. The two sat 
studying each other. Simon saw a lightly-built man in his mid 
thirties, short black hair and a thin darkening five-o-clock 
shadow round his chin. The man saw a skinny boy, skin an even tan 
all over, with straight brown hair parted on the left, and a dark 
brooding look in his attractive face. The boy's brown eyes had a 
depth you could drown in, and although he was obviously not 
malnourished, there was a feeling of hunger emanating from him. 
The gym shorts he was wearing belled out from his legs, showing 
glimpses of uncovered boy jewels.

Eventually Simon got up and sat by the unknown stranger. He was 
not sure why, but he felt the man's examination of him had not 
been intrusive, but almost as if he was looking at a work of art, 
appreciating the small boys appearance.

"Do you like looking at me?"

"Yes, any objections?" the man's voice was deep and rich, and 
made a warm shiver course through the boy's thin frame. 

"No...." he tentatively ventured. He knew from lessons at school 
that some men were dangerous, and he had even seen some odd 
looking characters around the beach watching the other kids. But 
this man didn't seem like them, and Simon found himself thinking 
about what it would be like to be closer to him, and what his 
hands would be like touching him. He edged closer, trying not to 
make his movements too obvious.

The man looked at him, picked up a bottle of suntan lotion, and 
asked 

"Want some of this on?"

Simon nodded, and stretched out by the man;s towel. He watched 
the large adult hand touch to his face, the cool lotion soothing 
on his hot skin. The fingers worked the liquid into his face, 
moved over his chin and down to his chest. As the hand stroked 
round and over his small nipples he felt the warm shiver spread 
out from his groin again, and closed his eyes, seeing the red 
glow of the sun piercing his eyelids. The thick fingers worked 
over his soft belly, too firm to tickle, but relaxing and 
delightful, like drinking creamy hot chocolate on a cold night. 
Then the man moved down to cover the boy's toes and feet with 
lotion, his body casting a cold shadow over the little midriff. 
As the hand worked slowly up each shin, over the knees, Simon 
could feel the butterflies in his stomach, half hoping the 
fingers would stop at his shorts, but wanting almost despairingly 
that they would move higher, and reach the growing heat between 
his legs. He sighed as the valley between his leg and tight 
scrotum was gently explored, felt his shorts pull tight in front 
as the man's hand cupped round his ball-sack, and jumped slightly 
as a rough thumb brushed over his hardening penis. He lifted his 
hips, opening his knees wide, to give the man more space to play.

The next two weeks were hectic, and if his father had been more 
aware of Simon he would have noticed a change for the better. 
Even the neighbours commented to themselves that young Simon 
seemed at last to be coming out of himself, and rumour was that 
someone had actually seen him smile to himself. He knew he didn't 
love the man, in all the time he was with him he never asked his 
name, though the man called him Si, but he was having fun, and at 
last an adult was showing him a kind of affection. By the end of 
the first week the two were spending most of each day in the 
dunes behind the beach, and Simon had discovered many of the 
differences between men and boys sexual responses. He was 
surprised the first time he masturbated the man to ejaculation, 
but astonished to discover that while he could be brought to 
orgasm several times an hour, the man, once spent, was out of 
action for half the day. It was great to know that there was one 
area that kids were better at than adults!

At times the man seemed reluctant to try new things, and it was 
Simon who asked if the man wanted to suck on his penis, as he 
remembered hearing a couple of older boys talking about having 
their girlfriends do it to them. It was a different feeling than 
having the man's fingers stroke up and down his cock, and the 
thrill that ran through his body when he put Simon's little 
testicles in his mouth was better than any before. There was a 
touch of danger in that, trusting everything that made him a boy 
swallowed between the man's sharp teeth, but the hot breath 
surrounding them, and the feel of them being juggled by a swift 
tounge was great. Out of interest, he took his turn licking and 
nibbling at the man's genitals, and found the slight meaty taste 
odd but not unpleasant. He even kept going when the man came in 
his mouth, not quite sure of the saltiness, but not finding it 
unappetising.

On the Wednesday of the second week, while Simon was lying back 
enjoying the feel of the man's tounge playing along the short 
length of his penis, he felt the man reach beneath him, and touch 
at his arse hole. Intrigued by this, he lifted his hips to give 
better access, and, not too much to his surprise, felt the finger 
push into his bottom. He guessed it must have been covered in 
suntan lotion, because it slid into him easily, but what he was 
not prepared for was the reaction of his body. As the finger 
probed deeper he felt his penis throb, growing bigger and harder 
than ever before, and he arched his back, thrusting hard at the 
mans face as an explosion of heat and pleasure washed over him, 
starting in his groin and spreading in waves through all his 
body. Unlike a usual orgasm, this one kept going again and again, 
until he fell back exhausted on the towel. It took him several 
minutes to recover, and realise that the finger was still deeply 
embedded in his rear end, and he moved his bottom experimentally, 
seeing how it felt. The man had him pull his knees up to his 
chest, and probed first with the one finger, then tried to push a 
second into the boy's small rectum. Simon winced, and turned his 
body aside, and the man went back to slowly thrusting just the 
one in and out. It no longer sent him ecstatic, but it wasn't 
uncomfortable, and if his friend enjoyed it, he was content.

The next day they did it again, and Simon reacted the same as 
before. This time though, after he had exhausted himself, the man 
got out a small white object, about six inches long, and slightly 
thicker than an adults finger. The boy watched with interest as 
it was lubricated, and pressed against his bottom. It felt hard 
and intrusive, very unlike the man's finger, but then the man 
twisted the far end, and the object buzzed and tickled. To 
Simon's surprise, he felt his sphincter open, and the rod 
vanished almost to it's full length inside him. He could feel the 
buzzing in his tummy, but mostly where his anus had clamped 
tightly against the thickness of the plastic. Despite his recent 
orgasm, he felt the familiar feeling rising again, his little 
penis hardened, and he squirmed in joy as the rod moved in and 
out. Finally he stiffened, and the rod was withdrawn, but he made 
the man promise to bring it again.

Friday was their final day together, and the man showed him some 
more toys. One was a two ended rubber penis, as long as Simon's 
forearm. It was like two jointed in the middle, one end being 
slightly bigger than the plastic rod, and the other as large as 
the man's own organ. The boy began to realise why the man was so 
interested in his rear end, and asked if he planned to fuck him. 
He said yes, but only once Simon was ready for it, and it would 
take quite a while. Simon reached over and stroked the man's 
large organ, trying to imagine it's huge size inside his little 
bottom. Although he couldn't quite see it, he also realised that 
until a few days ago he would not have thought having a buzzing 
rod in his arse would feel so good, so he decided it was worth a 
try. He also persuaded the man to let him take the plastic rod, 
called a vibrator, and the twin ended object called a dildo, back 
home with him, "to practice". He hid them under his mattress, 
though with his father the way he was, he could have put them on 
the front room mantle-piece without raising suspision.

For some reason, the next day is father decided to take him to 
the shops, and by the time they got back, it was too late to go 
down to the beach. He went down on the Sunday, but the man was 
nowhere to be seen. He wandered up and down the shore, until he 
overheard a conversation between two women. The were saying 
something about a man who had attacked a boy on the beach the day 
before. The boy had run screaming to his mother, and the whole 
beach population had descended to hold the man until the police 
arrived. The whole affair seemed odd to Simon, after all, the man 
had never done anything to him that he didn't want, so what had 
the other boy got to be scared of? Anyhow, after that the beach 
lost it's attraction, and Simon slipped back to being the dark 
child he had been before. True, he had his toys, but he could not 
make his body explode with pleasure the way the man had, and now 
he had no-body. He dreamed that his father would find the toys, 
and join in the games. He loved his distant father, and there 
could be no better solution in his eyes. But that wasn't going to 
happen, so he returned to school the same as before.

It was only a few weeks previously that he remembered the one 
other adult who had brushed his hair, touched him gently, since 
his mother had died, and he had only remembered this other person 
at the beginning of December. Each year, as he lay in bed on 
Christmas Eve, a large figure dressed in red would come into his 
room and leave a large sack of goodies at the end of the bed. He 
would then sit by Simon, touch his face, hug him to his chest, 
and weep quietly into Simon's hair. Santa loved him, and, though 
at nine Simon was not quite sure if he believed in Santa, loved 
him back. He had decided that that Christmas he would give Father 
Christmas a present.

He had gone back to practising putting the vibrator inside 
himself, moving it in little circles as the man had shown him to 
stretch his tight anus. Every evening just before he went to 
sleep he tried to get the smaller end of the dildo in the same 
place, but for the first week it just hurt too much and he had to 
stop. Eventually though, he managed to force the tip past his 
sphincter, and though it felt rather bulky, he managed to fit 
more in each night, till the whole length fitted neatly in his 
rectum. That night he left it there, and slept with the thing 
inside him, but he found that by morning it had been pushed out, 
and rested uncomfortably by his leg in his pyjamas. Over the next 
two weeks he continued with the small dildo, but also tried with 
the other end. It was a bit like the difference between the thin 
rod and the small end, uncomfortable at first, but as he got used 
to it he began to enjoy the full feeling in his rear. As the 
final week before Christmas approached, he was able to put either 
end inside himself without discomfort, and was looking forward to 
the treat he was going to give Santa!

The teachers at the school were beginning to notice a change in 
Simon. He still appeared to pay very little attention in class, 
but now, on an odd occasion, one of them would see a slight smile 
replace the usually dour expression on the boy's face. They 
weren't too sure if it was a good sign, as, when they spoke to 
him, the smile vanished like a ghost, but in the end they decided 
any chance had to be for the better, and left it at that.

Finally, Christmas Eve had arrived. Simon could hardly keep a 
tremor of excitement from his voice as he said good night to his 
father. A slight grunt was the only sign that his father had 
heard him, but even that slight acnologment was more than he had 
received for the past few months, and lifted his heart for the 
night to come. He snuggled under the duvet, his pyjamas still 
beneath his pillow, and reached back between his legs to finger 
his bottom. The thought of what he hoped would soon be between 
his buttocks filled him with a warm glow, and made his little 
penis stiffen in anticipation.

He had dozed off when the door to his room creaked open, and he 
didn't wake til the large figure sat beside him and gathered his 
naked body in it's arms. He was held tightly to the thick, warm, 
red fabric, almost like a dressing-gown, the white whiskers of 
Santa's beard like cotton wool against his cheek. As he was 
gently rocked backwards and forwards in the strong adult arms, he 
slowly slid his hand into the front of the long red gown. He was 
slightly surprised to find that Santa didn't wear anything under 
the robe, but realised that made his task so much easier. Santa 
didn't react until Simon had moved his small hand over the hairy 
skin of his belly and touched the large organ nestled between the 
powerful legs. At this point Father Christmas stopped his rocking 
and weeping, and let out a soft gasp as the boy wrapped his 
fingers around the stiffening rod.

"I love you, Santa." Simon stated quietly as he started to move 
his hand up and down the now fully erect penis. He looked up at 
the face above him, which now turned upwards as if in prayer, 
eyes closed in supplication. Taking this as a positive sign, the 
boy shifted round, gently pushing the adult back on the bed, 
ending up kneeling over the prone body. With his free hand he 
opened up the robe, to expose the full length of Santa's body, 
naked as Simon himself. It looked a much younger body than he had 
expected, but the light was dim, and he didn't take much notice, 
being far too intent on his purpose. He lifted one of Santa's 
large hands to his groin, so he could feel Simon's little 
excitement, still ensuring that he kept up the manipulation of 
Santa all the time. The figure let out a low groan as he touched 
the small penis, but started to fondle it's sweet length all the 
same. Moving to lower his face to the tip of Santa's penis, Simon 
sniffed for the distinctive adult aroma before dropping to engulf 
it's length in his hot mouth. Santa stiffened again as the warm 
wetness of the boy's mouth swallowed him deep, the small fingers 
transferring to massage the twin golf-balls in their sac below.

Once Simon was sure the penis was wet enough, and Santa was 
thrusting his hips upwards to meet the boy's sucking, he swung 
his leg over the large body, and positioned himself over the sky-
pointing cock. He lowered himself gently, as he had discovered 
that Santa was quite a bit bigger than the dildo. Santa's eyes 
sprang open as the boy descended, and a worried look spread over 
his face. Simon smiled down at the lovely old man, and speared 
himself on the large erection. He was surprised to find it easy 
to slide down, though bigger than what had been in him before, it 
was softer, warmer, and made a comfortable feeling in his bottom. 
It was bliss, better than he had ever imagined, and he felt 
closer to Santa than ever before. The only thing he could think 
of that could make it better would be if it was his father 
stretched out beneath him. He began to twist and jiggle on thee 
impaling shaft, trying to bring Santa to orgasm, wondering what 
it would feel like to have this man ejaculate in his bottom. 
Santa responded, thrusting with his hips to increase the feel of 
the tight sphincter on his shaft. He reached up to hold Simon's 
arms, reaching up to stroke his shoulders and over his narrow 
back. As the large hands massaged him, Simon felt a warmth grow 
within him, building up and sending waves through his body. It 
was like his first time with the vibrator, and he realised he was 
going to experience that explosive climax again. He speeded up 
his movement, rising up and down on the thick penis to bring 
Santa to orgasm before he himself fell exhausted on the broad 
chest. Just before he collapsed, he felt Santa push up hard, 
arching his back to thrust further inside the boy than before, 
and he thought there was a pulsing past his tight rear grip. 
Santa gave a cry, and the boy slid forward, sprawled across his 
chest, arms limp on either side.

Simon felt himself rise and fall as Santa panted and puffed, 
recovering his breath. He didn't move as Santa lifted up, and 
kissed his head tenderly.

"Where did you learn to do that, my beloved?" Santa asked.

"At the beach," murmured Simon, "but that was just fun, and we 
didn't do that thing with my bottom, but I wanted to do it with 
you because I love you. Did you like it?"

"Yes Simon, thank you. You are the best son in the world, just 
ask anything, and I'll try and do it for you."

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"Could you make my dad like he was before mum died?"

"I think you may already have done that!"

"Do you think he will do that with me too?"

"Would you like that, really like that I mean?"

"Yeah, it would be great!"

"We'll see, OK? Now you go to sleep, and we'll see what the 
morning brings."

Simon nodded, and slid beneath the duvet, letting Santa tuck him 
in, and drifted quickly into slumber.

That next term the teachers could not understand the change in 
the boy. He had turned from a depressed cloud of misery into a 
cheerful and bright member of the class. His father had called 
the school to see how Simon was doing, and arranged to come in 
and talk to his teachers about how to help him catch up with the 
others. This was probably not even needed, as they were finding 
that though he had always appeared to be away with the fairies, 
he must have been listening all that time and storing the 
information away for later. The later seemed to have arrived, and 
he was bubbling with intelligent and well thought out questions. 
As before, they were puzelled, but whatever had brought about 
this change, it was welcome.

Simon and his father knew, of course, and to Simon it was as if 
his Christmas wish had come true. 

      *************************************************

Thank you for reading this far.  I hope you have enjoyed the 
story, and if you have any comments, please send them on.  
Constructive critisim is always welcome.  Flames, well, I you 
have got this far and still want to flame me, go ahead, I'll 
ignore them anyhow, so you will have wasted yet more of your 
time.

Baloo.

P.S. Sorry for the long abscence, lack of inspiration!
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