Date: Sat, 19 Jul 2003 02:57:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jamie Myers <bstory2@yahoo.com>
Subject: A New Life (part 2)

UPS delivered the two remaining packages, following the instructions I
had given to leave them at the door.  Shoes came a day late on Tuesday
- I was getting pretty nervous about them, thinking I might have to
make moccasins out of my leather jacket somehow, but the jacket was
saved.

The first outfit was a pair of jean shorts, a white short-sleeved shirt
with some kind of airplane design on the front, and some more plain
white underwear.  The underwear was a little plainer than I expected,
though.  The waistband was very thin, as was the fabric, and there was
no fly in front - sort of like panties, but the label clearly stated
that they were for boys.  They were very comfortable, though, and I
looked very good in them, if I do say so myself.

The second outfit was dressier, some long khaki slacks and a long-
sleeved, blue dress shirt.  I also got a braided belt to go with it,
and a pair of boxer shorts.  I had thought that the boxers would be
plain white, but in fact they had little cartoon designs all over them;
they were also shorter than I expected them to be - that's what you get
when you buy stuff on the Internet.

I spent several hours posing in front of the mirror in all three
outfits and thought I looked pretty good in all of them, except for the
fact that my hair was *way* too long.  I needed to get a proper boy's
style, but David would be expecting it to be this length, so I decided
to leave it as it was for the time being.  If Mr. Comfort was any
guide, people would just assume I was a girl with my hair like this,
and that was fine with me; I didn't care what they thought.

I finally put on the blue short-sleeved shirt, yellow shorts, and red
hat (worn backwards, of course).  The hat would help keep the hair out
of my eyes; it was a windy day.  I waited again until no one was around
and went outside.  I realized I was carrying *way* too many keys and
went back in, keeping only the house key.  I lost the wallet, too; kids
don't carry them, and I wasn't going to be using my driver's license or
credit cards.

I almost missed the bus.  I didn't really know how to get to the
downtown Galleria without driving, but I figured that all the trains
and buses go downtown, so it wouldn't be a problem, and it really
wasn't.  I knew there was a bus that ran nearby, and like I figured, it
went to a train station, and the train went downtown, no problem.  I
had to pay two dollars for the fare since I didn't have change.  The
driver seemed annoyed with me.  I took a seat by the window near the
back.  I opened the window and enjoyed the wind blowing through my
hair.

I didn't really notice when three boys took seats near me.  One of them
actually sat next to me, though the bus was half-empty.  I did notice
when he put his arm across the seat behind me.  I noticed more when he
started fingering my hair.

"I'm Jon, what's your name?" he asked, an adolescent crackle in his
voice.

I looked at him with scorn.  Black jean shorts, baggy, below his knees,
black t-shirt with the emblem of some rock band I'd never heard of,
black leather jacket with chains all over it.  Black spiky hair and
light brown eyebrows.  Two earrings in each ear.  He was loathsome.
"Chrissie - and I'm ten," I said icily.  I turned around and lifted his
arm from behind me, throwing it in his lap.  It was heavier than I
expected.

The boys across the aisle laughed.  "Hey, Jon's got a 10-year-old
girlfriend," one of them said.

"Fuck that," Jon replied, recovering quickly, "pussy's pussy."  He put
his arm back behind me again.  "Some 10-year-old girls are hot for it.
Are you hot for it, Chrissie?  Do I make your little titties all hard?"
He reached out and squeezed my nipple.

I batted his hand away quickly.  "Get away from me!" I hissed, but it
came out as a whine.

"Or what?" he said, grinning fiercely.  I realized that he didn't
really want me any more now that he knew my age, but he wasn't going to
back down either.  I had gotten between a teenage boy and his ego,
which is a dangerous place to be.  He leaned over and nuzzled my hair,
holding me to him with the arm that had been behind my back.  I looked
down and realized that in this shirt, when I was sitting down at least,
it did sort of appear that I had buds, but of course it was just baby
fat.

I perhaps waited too long before I said it, but finally I pushed him
away as hard as I could and shrieked, "Get away from me, you creep!",
as loud as possible.

"That old bus driver don't care," Jon said with a smirk.

"But I do," said a man sitting behind us.  "The girl said to leave her
alone."

Well, Jon took one look at him and decided his odds were better
elsewhere.  One of his friends rang the bell, and they got off at the
next stop.

My savior came and sat next to me.  "You OK, sweetheart?" he asked,
stroking my hair.

"Yes," I said, wiping tears of relief out of my eyes.  Although I lived
in what was politely called a "gentrifying" neighborhood, I had never
thought that I would risk being raped riding a bus.

"Here," he said, dabbing my eyes with his handkerchief.  Of course,
*his* arm was behind me now.  "Where you going, Chrissie?"

"The Galleria, I'm meeting a friend there."

"You need to watch out for those boys, they're trouble."  I just
nodded.  "You did the right thing, shouting like that.  If you have a
problem, just scream as loud as you can, and somebody will help you.
I'll ride with you to the station."

"OK," I said, smiling briefly at him and looking out the window again.
The idea that, if I was in trouble, all I could do was scream and hope
somebody would help me, was new and definitely unwelcome.  I needed to
move to a better neighborhood, which was of course impossible, or at
least get a can of mace - also probably impossible.  Unconsciously, I
put my legs together and folded my hands in my lap.  He stroked my
hair, but evidently saw that I didn't want to talk to him.  Good as his
word, he stayed with me to the train station.  I felt very self-
conscious as I walked past him to get off the bus; I could feel his
eyes on my back, but I turned and waved to him anyway as I stepped off.

I walked up to the train station and bought a ticket.  If anything,
this was a worse part of town than where I came from.  I was able to
buy the ticket with no trouble, however.  The transit agency actively
advertised to kids too young to drive - maybe not such a good thing, if
their parents knew.  I was almost the only white person on the
platform.  I stood at the end where I knew the driver would be and
waited.  A group of boys looked at me and snickered, but they didn't
come over.  After an age, the train appeared.  I sat right behind the
driver in case there was another incident, but there was not.

Arriving at the downtown train station, I was at first pushed around by
the lunchtime crowds of businesspeople until I managed to make my way
to a wall.  I waited until everyone else had gone by, then headed up
the stairs.  A bum asked me for money, and I ran away from him,
panicked.  As a man, I would have just ignored him.  It felt like
everybody was staring at me, but I'm sure that wasn't so.  I walked the
7 blocks to the Galleria without looking at anyone.  I kept to the side
so that I wouldn't be stepped on by hurried adults.

By the time I arrived at the downtown mall, I was a nervous wreck.  It
is not a good world to be a kid in, if you don't have an adult's hand
to hold onto.  Being so nervous, I had to go, if you know what I mean,
though that had never been a problem as an adult.  I made a beeline for
the restrooms on the lower level.

Everybody stared at me as I walked into the men's room.  Ignoring them,
I went straight for the urinal.  It was too high.  I had to wait in
line for one that was low enough, dancing.  At last the man in front of
me finished, and I moved up quickly.  It proved impossible to pull my
little penis out of my pants far enough to avoid soiling myself, so I
ended up just pulling my shorts and undies down over my butt.

I needed to go, but of course you can't when you're nervous, so I stood
there for a long while waiting for something to come out.  Finally, a
narrow stream started.

"So what are you supposed to be?"

I looked up at the man standing next to me.  A broad sneer stretched
across his face.  Chilled by his contempt, I looked down, only to be
confronted by the long snake that he dangled from, rather than held in,
his hand.  My face got hot.  Not knowing what to say, I turned back to
the front and tried to push my urine out faster, knowing that I
couldn't stop now, or I would never get started again.  I was shaking
all over.

"Don't worry, babe," the man said, as his own thick yellow stream
started flowing.  "I like women, not little fairies like you."  I was
still trying to force my urine out when he finished.  Unconsciously, I
turned my head in time to see him pack his long, thick penis into his
dirty jeans.  "Better not show that cute little ass to too many guys,
though - someone might take you up on the offer."

Frantic to pretend that everything was OK, I quickly turned back to the
front, blushing more deeply than ever.  I stood pushing out little
dribbles as I waited for him to leave the restroom.  Then, as quickly
as I could, I pulled up my underwear and shorts and hit the flush.  I
washed my hands as fast as possible to get out of there, but I couldn't
help noticing in the mirror that my hair was all messed up from the
bus.

It was 20 minutes or so before the meeting time with David.  By now, I
was so messed up that I thought of jumping in the fountain rather than
sitting by it.  I managed to calm myself, though, and slipped into a
drugstore to get a hairbrush.  They had a pink-handled one for $2, and
a gold-handled one for $25 - OK, pink it is.  I also bought myself a
Tom Clancy novel in case David was late.

The clerk took her time waiting on me; the brush needed a price check.
She asked if the book was for me.  I said it was.  She said, "We have
books for little girls on aisle 8, wouldn't you rather read one of
those?"  I assured her I would not.  She was not pleased; apparently,
she didn't like little tomboys.

I got away from there, at least, and, wanting to get away from people,
I wandered into a part of the mall that was mostly vacant.  I brushed
my hair looking in the window of a vacant store and replaced the cap to
keep it in place.  I pulled my watch out of my pocket (it was too big
for my wrist now) and checked the time.  I had only 5 minutes left!  I
rushed down to the fountain.  Again, everyone seemed to be looking at
me.  David was not there.  I sat down and started reading; it helped
take my mind off things.

A man sat down next to me, but I didn't look at him - another creep
like the man in the restroom, I thought.  I waited for him to go away.
Instead, he put his hand on my knee.

By this time, I was about to break down from all the stress.  My eyes
were tearing up as I looked at the man.  It was David!  I almost
started crying, right there in the mall.  He saw it and shielded me by
giving me a hug.  I hugged him back.  He hugged me more tightly.  He
stroked my back.  What's this to all the busy people in the Galleria?
Just a man comforting his daughter, poor dear.  Old ladies smiled.

Finally, we disengaged.  He wiped my eyes with his handkerchief and
took my hand.  I held close to him, feeling safe somehow.  He didn't
want to talk in public any more than I did.  We went out across the
street to the garage where he was parked.  I was trying to get it
together, but I was almost skipping to keep up with him; damn, he was
tall.  We got in his car and drove away.

His car was a Buick Regal or something like that, a big, plush,
businessman's car.  I settled into the big seat uncertainly.  He
buckled his seatbelt, then mine.  He was wearing slacks and a sport
shirt.

Only as we were pulling out of the garage did he actually speak.
"Chrissie" - he cleared his throat, nervously.  "I'm glad to see you.
Are you OK?"

"Yes," I replied.  The fact that he was nervous too made me feel
better.  "I'm glad you came," I said, getting back in character.

"I said I would," he answered, reaching around me to touch my hair.  "I
will always be there for you, Chrissie," he added.  Ick, I hate
sentimentality.  "I thought we could go to lunch.  What's a good
place?"

My stomach gave a lurch.  Back at home, I was down to crackers and
catsup.  "Schlotzky's," I said, without thinking.  "Um, it's a ways,
though."  I tried to think of something closer.  He was driving
aimlessly.

"Which way?" was all he said.  From downtown, it was half an hour; at
least it wasn't rush hour.  I kicked myself inwardly.  If this didn't
work out, I didn't know how I would get home; no trains ran that way.
I directed him.  The ways onto an urban freeway are secrets well-hidden
from outsiders.  I led him down seemingly unused streets to a ramp
hidden under an overpass.  I could tell he was impressed.  We got there
in 20 minutes.  Unfamiliar with the city, he had to keep focused on
driving.

I ordered corned beef on light rye with kraut on the side; David got
the same.  "Have you heard from your parents?" he asked, after the
waitress had left.

"No," I said, "but they'll come back, though."

"What's the longest they have been gone?"  He was worried; that was
good.

"About two weeks."  Long enough to seem desperate, I hoped, but not so
long that it would seem hopeless, so that he should adopt me.  Lying is
hard work.  "It has only been 8 days," I added, hopefully.

The waitress brought the food.  Traffic was light, service fast.
Without thinking about it, I dove into the sandwich, wolfing down three
bites and washing them down with long drinks of milk before I noticed
that David was staring at me.

"When did you eat last, Chrissie?" he asked soberly.

Oops.  "Um, yesterday," I said, my mouth full.  I put the sandwich down
and wiped my mouth, ashamed for some reason that I had talked with my
mouth full.  "I don't eat much, usually," I added.

David looked at me full of pity.  "Eat as much as you want,
sweetheart."  I didn't answer, just went back to eating.  He reached
over and took my hat off, setting it on the table.  "You shouldn't wear
a hat inside."

I swallowed.  "Oh, yeah, right," I said.  I ate half of my sandwich but
couldn't touch the rest.  It turned out that I really *didn't* eat
much.  I hardly tasted my kraut.  Before we left, I went and washed off
my face and hands in the restroom; fortunately, it was empty.

We got back in David's car.  He said we were going to his hotel, but I
figured that already.  Stuffed full, in a soft velour seat and air-
conditioned comfort, I struggled to stay awake as I led him back
downtown.  I knew his hotel, it was almost a landmark in town.  He is
obviously a man of means, I thought drowsily, as we drove into the
underground garage.

I must have closed my eyes.  The next thing I knew, he was carrying me
down the corridor.  This is wrong, I thought, but it felt nice.  When
we got to his floor, I let him know I was awake, and he put me down.

It was a nice room.  The mirror on the wall had a gilt frame.  I looked
at myself in it, at my skinny arms, realizing that I wouldn't have much
chance in a fight with a man who could carry me as if I weighed nothing
- if all this went terribly wrong.  I frowned.

David came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.  "You look
lovely, sweetheart," he said.

I pushed the hair out of my eyes with a limp-wristed hand.  God.  I
remembered the year after my brother went away, how I had struggled
every day to learn to keep my wrist straight, like a real boy.  How to
walk like a real boy.  How I hid from bullies by getting in the chess
club, and the drama club, and the debate club, so that I would never be
there after school when they waited for me.  And now, here I was,
unlearning it all at once.  "God, I'm sick," I said to myself with
disgust.

"Why do you say that, Chrissie?" David asked.

I turned to look at him.  He was as sick as I was - what a beautiful
pair of faggots we made.  It was too disgusting to talk about, so I
changed the subject.  "Did you bring the money?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, taken aback.  He patted his wallet.  "It's right here."

"Let me see it," I said, holding out my hand.  If I was going to do
this, then I'd better by God get paid.

He pulled out his wallet and sat down.  Taking his time, he counted out
the money in my hand.  With every $20 bill he counted out, it was as if
I diminished in his eyes.  I avoided them and watched the money.  He
counted out his money and his love, his voice growing weaker and lower
with each bill.  "... 280 ... 300."

Not looking at him, I took the money, folded it neatly, and put it in
my pocket.  "I-I need it," I said, looking at the plush carpet under my
feet.  I felt like I would die under his disappointed gaze, so I added,
"I'm sorry," though I didn't know what I should be sorry for.

David hugged me.  "It's OK, sweetie, I understand."

"It's just, I need the money to pay the rent," I whined.  I couldn't
handle his disapproval, not after what I had been through today, not
with the knowledge that I had (possibly) several more years of it to
endure.  Besides, I had always been a good kid.

We sat on the edge of the bed.  He held me and rubbed my back for a
while, then his hand found its way to my butt.  Noo, I thought, I can't
do that.  I moved away and forced a smile - all better now, see?

"How was your trip?" I asked.  Oh, that's bad - next we'll talk about
the weather.  But what was there to say?

"Not bad," he said.  "Not much traffic in the middle of the week."  He
put his arm around me again and played with my hair.  What was it with
men and this hair?  "I'd rather talk about you.  How are you doing?"

"Uh, I'm fine," I said.  "Great, in fact.  I like being here with you.
So - you work in an office?"

"I'm an attorney," he said dismissing the subject.  "You don't seem
fine.  You seem like a very sad little boy."

"I - I'm not sad, I said I was fine."

"Why are you shaking, sweetheart?  Are you scared of me?  I would never
hurt you.  I'm just a big, cuddly bear."

I hadn't noticed I was shaking until he said it.  Thirty years of hard-
bitten logic seemingly gone in a flash.  I could control what my mouth
said, but not what my body gave away.  I would be a terrible liar.
"Cuddly bear," I said, giggling nervously.

"Just a big, cuddly bear," he repeated, growling like a bear.  He threw
his arms around me and pushed me back on the bed, tickling me
mercilessly.  I was very ticklish, and soon I was laughing and
screaming uncontrollably - I'm surprised I didn't break the hotel
glasses.  After a while, he stopped, though we remained lying on the
bed, our feet dangling over the side.  My hat had disappeared in the
struggle, and my face was half covered with yellow tangles.  David
pushed them away and smiled at me.  I smiled back shyly, and for a
minute I was afraid he would try to kiss me.  He seemed to struggle
with the idea, but evidently decided I wasn't ready.

"Are you still nervous?" he asked.  He was close enough that I could
feel his breath on my face.

"Yess," I whispered.

"How come?"  He pulled some of my hair around under my chin to frame my
face.

"I dunnooo," a child's answer, but I was a child, right?

A light dawned in his eyes.  "This is the first time you've done this,
isn't it?"

I nodded.  David seemed to melt then, becoming more cuddly and panda-
bearish than ever.  He hugged me again - he seemed to like to do that a
lot - and soothed, "Don't worry, sweetheart, we won't do anything you
don't want to do."

Oh, well, that's good - considering.  "Okay," I said, softly, since it
was hard to take a breath with him hugging me so hard.

"I've got something that might relax us both," he said, finally
releasing me.  Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, he got up and
walked over to his suitcase, opened up a secret compartment in the back
(yeah, they really have those), and pulled out an antique silver
cigarette case.  He came back and sat back down on the bed.  I sat up
next to him, and he opened the case.  There were four well-packed
joints inside, tied to the case with a small red ribbon.  He held out
the case for me to untie the ribbon.

Now, it's not like I didn't know this was a bad idea.  I hadn't smoked
any since I was, I guess, 16.  Marijuana doesn't agree with me.  It
makes me act really - weird.  It also makes me paranoid, probably
justifiably since I'm acting so weird when I'm high.  But there I was,
just untying the ribbon like nothing was wrong.  I couldn't tell David
that I didn't like to get high, since that would imply that I had done
it before, and that would have spoiled his image of me as innocent
little Chrissie.  On the other hand, I couldn't act all shocked, since
he had already seen me drinking alcohol.  Dumb reasons, I know, but I
wasn't thinking very straight; I was too nervous.  I decided that I
would smoke but not inhale - like our beloved President.

David pulled a silver lighter out of the other side of the case and lit
up.  Gee, I hope he got a smoking room, or they'll charge him a
cleaning fee, I thought giddily.  He took a long toke and handed the
joint to me.  Taking care not to actually touch my lips to it, I pursed
my lips as if to kiss it and pulled a little smoke in.  Unfortunately,
despite my best efforts, a little got into my lungs, and I almost
dropped the joint in the resulting coughing fit.

David grabbed it before it fell to the floor and delicately flicked the
ash into the tray.  "First time, eh, Chrissie?" he asked.  I nodded,
red-faced.  "Turn towards me."  I did.  "You breathe in when I breathe
out.  It'll be smoother.  If you think you're going to cough, just turn
your head to the side and take in some air.  Hold it as long as you
can, then let it out."

So that's what we did.  He shotgunned me, our lips pushed out as if to
kiss, but two inches away, as if frozen on the verge.  And, in the end,
I forgot my vow not to inhale.  It didn't take long, the first couple
times, before I had to turn aside for air.  By the third time, I was
really feeling it.  The fourth time, he took the back of my head in his
hand and poured the smoke directly into my mouth, our lips touching.
It was really weird, as if he was breathing for me, as if even the most
basic thing you have to do for yourself was being done for me.

"I - I had enough," I said, turning away from the fifth hit.

"Just one more, it's almost gone," he said, in that choked way of a
person holding his smoke.  So I turned to him again, and he held my
head again, and blew the smoke into me again.  But then he kept kissing
me, his tongue following when the smoke was gone, his hand holding my
head in place, breathing in the smoke when I let it out, then passing
it back to me, till we finally had to break off to get some oxygen.  He
broke the cherry off the roach and left it in the ashtray.  It *was* a
smoking room, I thought, feeling silly.

Even then, he held onto me as giddy waves washed over me.  I reached
down with limp-wristed hands and pulled on the hems of my shorts.  I
noticed immediately and stopped it.  I crossed my legs at the knee and
pointed my toe demurely at the floor.  I was tho gay.  I was acting
weird again.

"How do you feel, Chrissie," David asked softly, in my left ear.

"Fine," I said softly, making myself uncross my legs again.

"You're shy," he said admiringly.  His hand trailed down my side and
rested on my bare knee.  My little pecker stood straight up, as a
shiver ran down from my neck to my feet and back up to my bottom, where
it retreated into a lingering tingle.  "You're very pretty, Chrissie,
you have nothing to be shy about."

I put my knees together and crossed my ankles, blushing brightly.  I
put a soft hand on his and tried gently to push it away from my knee.
It remained there.  He moved it slowly up to the hem of my shorts.

"I can't believe my Abba girl is so shy," David said, kissing me on the
cheek, which in turn sent another wave through my body.  His other hand
was moving down my back.  "I have a present for you," he said,
grinning.

"What?" I asked, my voice high-pitched and hoarse.

"You'll see."  He pulled away from me.  I pushed the hair out of my
face with curled fingers and looked at him.  His smile seemed
intimidating, so I looked down at the carpet and crossed my legs again.
He walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a gift-wrapped package.

I took it and set it in my lap.  With shaking hands, I pulled apart the
silver foil and opened the box.  It was a silver dress, covered in
sequins; it sparkled brightly, even in the dim light of the hotel room.
I looked at it in amazement; he couldn't be serious.

"Why don't you go put it on?"  David gently pushed me to my feet - he
*was* serious.  The box fell to the floor.  I held the dress in front
of me, staring at it, the colors it seemed to pull out of a drab, dark
room were amazing.  He led me to the bathroom and closed the door
behind me.

Why did I have to be such a fag?  It seemed to be printed across my
forehead in bright pink letters [thanks for the image, Ganymede].  But
David didn't mind, and he certainly wouldn't tell anybody, pervert
molester that he was, my big cuddly bear.  I giggled at that and
couldn't stop laughing until I held up the dress again.  It was
gorgeous.  Don't know why, but I had to try it on.

I sat down on the toilet seat and pulled my shoes and socks off.  There
was music playing out in the bedroom, but I couldn't hear it
distinctly.  I pulled my shirt off, then took my shorts down and off.
I had worn the panties since they were so comfortable, not knowing how
appropriate they would turn out to be.  I looked at myself in the
mirror.  My dick was at full mast, 2-1/2" of skinny, hairless glory,
poking out the front of the panties.

Suddenly, I thought I looked horrible.  Skinny arms with no muscles at
all, baby fat under dime-sized nipples grown pointy in the air-
conditioned bathroom, narrow shoulders that barely protruded out from
under my outsized head, a cute, full belly that hung out slightly over
my too-wide hips, skinny legs that seemed to balloon out as they met my
torso.  Everything out of proportion, in my mind.  Paranoid as ever.

Discouraged, I pulled the dress over my head and straightened it.  It
was still a glorious dress, just ugly me under it.  It was a mini, of
course - what else would an Abba girl wear?  The shoes didn't seem
right with it, so I left them off.  I got the brush out of my shorts
and brushed my hair.  Well, so much for this, I thought, stepping out
into the room.  The worst that will happen is that he will throw me
out, and I already got his money.  (Worse things could have happened,
of course, but I didn't think of them then.)

David was looking at some CD's.  He stood and turned around.  "Wow,
Chrissie, you're gorgeous.  I wasn't sure of the size, but it looks
great!"

Cognitive dissonance - that is what a psychiatrist calls it when what
you know is true is denied by what you see.  David was looking at me
with such total admiration that it was undeniable that he thought I was
pretty.  I blushed again, folding my hands in front of me in another
effeminate gesture that I had struggled hard to unlearn.

He held out his hand and pulled me to him, and we danced.  Fast dances,
mostly.  He turned out to be a good dancer, never stepped on my feet
once.  Finally I stopped looking at the floor and looked at him.  I
didn't know the songs; Disney radio stuff, from the sound of it.  He
probably thought that that was what I would like.  Whatever.  I felt a
lot better when I was dancing, it gave me something to do, though this
was the first time I had actually danced *with* somebody.

Finally he put on a slow song.  David pulled me close and we swayed
together.  I just held him around the middle.  I could feel his dick,
hard against my middle.  He could probably feel mine brushing against
his leg.  His hand reached down and covered my butt over the sequined
dress.

I didn't try to stop him when he did that, nor did I prevent him from
picking me up and carrying me over to the bed.  Soft music played as he
pulled the dress up and over my head, kissing me on the lips, then on
my forehead, then all the way down my body.  I was so high, and it felt
so good, but so scary.  He grinned at me as he pulled my panties down
and off, looking over my naked body, up close, breathing hot air on me
from my feet to my neck, before he went back down to my little dick and
took it into his mouth.

Oh, wow, so this is what sex is supposed to feel like.  My whole body
was tingling.  The fact that I was completely naked and he was fully
clothed only added to the excitement of it - like he could do anything
he wanted to me, and I couldn't do a thing about it.  I reached down
and felt his shoulders through his shirt.  It was surprising to find
such an old guy in such good shape.  I felt his strong arms as he
worked on my little prong.

I was excited all right, and it felt wonderful, him sucking on me, but
I wasn't going to have an orgasm.  I wondered if I even could; I
wondered if David would be disappointed.  As if sensing my trouble, he
gradually took his mouth off my dick and started licking my tight,
hairless ballsac more, working his way behind them to the thin, pink
crease between my legs, pushing them apart to get better access for
himself - not that he was ignoring my dick, he still came up to give it
a lick now and then.  Lying back on the bed, I was unable to reach him
any more, so I started stroking my own chest and sides.  David soon put
a stop to that, taking my hands in his big bear claws and holding them
to the bed by my waist as he continued to feast on my private parts.
Frustrated, I started pushing up towards him with my legs, trying for
more of his talented tongue.

"Oh, you like that, do you, you little minx?" he said, grabbing my
shins and lifting my thighs to his shoulders.  In this position, with
me half curled up on my back, I could reach his silvery brown hair.
He, however, could reach my bottom, and when I felt his tongue there, I
squealed and tensed, just about pulling out two fistfuls.

That seemed to make him mad, since he grabbed my hands again and
twisted them back, not painfully, but making it impossible for me to
grab anything except his wrists, which I did.  This effort didn't slow
down his ass-eating at all, though.  He covered my bottom and the
inside of my thighs with little love-bites, making me squeal again in
pleasure and fear.  He took both my hands in one of his, then reached
down and unzipped his slacks.  I thought, now I'm going to see him, but
no, he just stroked himself a few times out of my sight, his hand
returning a moment later under my bottom, sticky fingers running down
my crack, pushing my bottom up farther, curling me up even more.

I got scared and started to wiggle.  It seemed to have an effect; with
no more effort than tossing a small sack of flour, he flipped me over
on the bed and pulled me to the edge.  I started to get up, but he
grabbed my hands again, twisting them back once more, pulling my arms
out straight.  "Da -" I started to say, but it was interrupted by a
moan as he pushed his slick, pointed tongue right up into my boyhole.
It didn't hurt at all, in fact it felt fantastic, but I was so
surprised by the weirdness of it that I started wiggling again,
struggling with my legs to get some footing on the soft carpet.  David
was easily able to pin my legs down with his own.

"Oh, you aren't going anywhere, Chrissie," he said, his voice hoarse
with lust, grabbing both my hands behind my back with one of his before
diving back into my hole with his tongue.  His remaining hand stroked
up and down from my waist to my knee.

I knew I should tell him to stop, he had said he would, but it felt so
damn good, I was rubbing my hard little wiener on the bedspread,
humping back against him as he licked out my sensitive anus.  It opened
to him with ease, and my scarce diet over the past few days, combined
with an especially careful shower before I left home, meant that there
was nothing particularly unpleasant for him to find back there.  I was
tingling all over, each thrust of his tongue sending waves of pleasure
through my befuddled brain.

He stopped suddenly, and I felt something cool dripping down into my
crack.  "Cherries for a little cherry boy," he said, with the same
hoarse voice, as the scent of the warming oil wafted up to my nostrils.
I felt pressure at my boyhole again, but it wasn't his tongue, it was
his finger.  I whined in fear rather than pain as he drove it in, just
the fingertip at first, pulling it out and reinserting it over and
over, retrieving oil from the pool on the small of my back and
methodically lubricating my bottom with it, gradually opening up that
now cherry-scented opening with his middle finger, twisting and
stretching it wider and wider, accompanied my much wiggling and moaning
from me.

"Yeah, you got a hot little bottom there, Chrissie girl," he said,
withdrawing his finger and swatting my behind with his oily hand.  He
released my hands and feet, but I had no time to move before he was on
top of me, crushing me into the bed with his weight, though he carried
most of it on his elbows.  I felt another finger at my behind, but now
I counted two hands in front of me.  Oh, God, he's going to ...  "I'm
going to fuck you now, Chrissie," he whispered in my ear.  "That's what
you wanted, isn't it, you little slut?"  The head of his penis found
the indentation of my boyhole.  I tensed, but it made no difference; my
bottom just opened for him of its own accord.  All I could do was whine
slightly as it pushed inside.

"That's me.  That's me inside your body, Christopher.  You're being
fucked, bet it feels good, doesn't it?"  He didn't let up, his narrow
6" cock sliding smoothly and slowly into my bottom.  It didn't hurt
much at all, just sliding in as if it belonged there - as if a man's
cock belonged in my ass.  I shivered all over, never having realized
how completely one person can dominate another.

As if to emphasize the point, he pulled almost all the way out and
shoved back in quickly, eliciting a high-pitched "Oh!" from me, causing
my eyes to go blurry.  "Yeah, you queer little bitch, you're getting
fucked" - thrust - "now, fucked" - thrust - "like a little fag-boy
should be."

Then it was on.  Beyond words, David let his weight down on me some
more, only his arching back keeping me from suffocating, grabbing my
hips with oily fingers, thrusting all the way inside, over and over
again, rubbing my little dick raw on the bedspread.  I couldn't hold a
conscious thought, each hard entry sending ill-defined pain into my
stomach and chills through my body.  My entire consciousness, usually
diffuse and "multi-tasking," was centered solely on David's hard penis,
drilling into my insides.

I tried squeezing on it with the sorely tested muscles of my rectum,
and that set it off.  My whole body tensed as waves of pleasure washed
over me, made only more acute by the steady ache that now punished my
ass.  It was unlike any orgasm I'd ever had before, blue-green lights
flashed before my eyes and white-hot waves washed over me, emanating
from the long, hard cock that never stopped driving into me, as if
nailing me to the bed.  I broke out in a sweat, uttering little choking
sounds.  I didn't exist as a man or boy any more - I was nothing but
cock, David's cock, spit running down my chin in token of what he had
not yet chosen to put in my behind.

"Oh, yeah, Chrissie, do that again," David said, panting now, perhaps
not knowing that I had given him everything already, or he had taken it
from me.  I tried feebly to squeeze him, to hold him inside, but
apparently it was enough, as soon I felt his thrusts becoming frantic;
it may be impossible but I swear I felt every vein in his cock, every
millimeter of the lip on its head, every bit of heat as his semen
jabbed into me like a volcanic eruption.

I couldn't see straight.  David collapsed on me like a bull moose,
driving the air out of my lungs, controlling even my breathing now.
Only as involuntary spasms caused me to start choking for air did he
roll off to the side, pulling me with him into an awkward spoon
position.

"Wow, that's the best fuck I ever had," he finally panted.  "You're
wonderful, Chrissie."

"Thank you," I said submissively, to the man who still had his dick in
my bottom.

After a while, he said, "I guess I'd better get cleaned up."  He
swatted my bare ass, pulled out of me, and walked off into the
bathroom, his penis dangling out of his slacks.

I heard water running in the sink; he hadn't bothered to close the
door.  I curled up into a ball and started sucking my thumb.  I don't
know how to describe how I felt, but I was definitely a different boy
from what I had been before.  My rectum was still throbbing from the
onslaught, my skin still tingling, my head still spinning.  I listened
to water running in the sink as David washed off.

He came back sooner than I thought.  "Your turn," he said.  I got up
slowly, surprised that my legs still worked, then ran past him as I
felt something liquid start running out of my ass.  I sat on the toilet
and pressed down, trying to push him out as I hadn't done when he was
fucking me, hating him, hating myself.

"Don't worry, it'll come out tonight, if it doesn't come out now," he
said, standing in the doorway, grinning.

"Oh, yeah," I said softly, not looking at him, feeling very naked for
some reason.  I sat for a while after the last plink into the water,
then self-conciously wiped myself, with David standing there smiling
the whole time.  I finally stood up.

"Let me see the damage," he said, stepping forward to grab my arm below
the shoulder, turning me around.  He grabbed one soft cheek and pulled
it aside to look.  "Not too bad.  You might be sore for a few days,
it'll clear up, though."

"C-can you leave me alone for a few minutes?" I asked shyly.  This
post-mortem was making me crazy.

"Sure, sweetie," he said, walking out of the bathroom like Caesar
returning from Gaul.

I closed the door and turned on the faucet, washing my face, my hands,
washing my butt till it was raw.  I couldn't get the smell of the
cherry oil off me, however.  I wanted to take a shower, but I was
afraid David would hear it and come in.  I dried off with a hand towel.
Mindful of his warning, I plugged my hole with some toilet paper to
prevent leakage, then found my clothes and got back into them, though
my panties were still out in the bedroom.  I brushed my hair again.

David was lying on the bed when I came out, reading my Clancy novel.
"This is a good book," he said.

I objected to him taking it, but I wasn't going to demand it back.
"Can you take me back to the Galleria?" I asked, trying to sound
confident, not successfully.

He put the book down.  "You want to leave already?" he said, sounding
disappointed.

"Um, yeah, I want to get home, uh, before the last train."  I had
forgotten to ask when that was, but I was sure it would not be for
several hours yet.

"It's only four o'clock, the trains will run for a while yet."

"Um, I want to get home before, um, in case my parents get back."

"I'll take you right home, sweetie.  You don't have to ride the train.
Stay here a while."

I wasn't going to win this argument.  I sat down on the bed.

"Come up here, Chrissie.  I won't bite."  Obediently, I crawled up and
lay down next to him.  He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled my
head to his chest.  I was still high, I realized; my heart started
beating faster, and my little dick started thickening once more.  Fear
can be a powerful aphrodisiac.  One arm was pinned underneath me; not
knowing what to do with the other, I finally put it across his middle.
David started softly stroking my arm.  "I never met a boy like you
before, so soft and pretty."

I didn't answer, but I wasn't too upset at the moment.  It was actually
kind of nice to be cuddled like that.  I needed to come down off my
high before I went out in public again anyway, and if this is how David
wanted to pass the time, that was fine.

"I didn't hurt you, did I, sweetheart?" he asked, made anxious by my
silence.

"No," I allowed.

"I think you hurt me, though," he said, chuckling softly.  "I don't
need boys pulling out my hair, I have little enough as it is."

I raised my head to look at him.  "I'm sorry," I said.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie, I don't mind," he replied, pulling my head
back down.  "I just have to remember that my little baby can be a
wildcat in bed.  Are you sure this is your first time?"

His hand wandered down from my shoulder to my bottom.  "Yes," I yelped,
as he gave it a squeeze.

He chuckled again, clearly proud to have broken my cherry.  As if to
confirm it, cherry scent still wafted up from there, the room now
seeming much warmer.  "Well, you were marvelous, best I've ever had."

That made me wonder how many he had had, but I couldn't bring it up.  I
was feeling very protected at the moment, but afraid of what would
happen if my cuddly bear turned wild.  A thrill of submission ran
through me, and I rubbed my bare knees together self-consciously.

He gave my butt another squeeze, then moved his hand back up to my
shoulder again.  "Tell me, do you like being a girl or a boy?"

"I-I'm a boy," I replied softly, not looking at him.

"You make a very pretty girl, though."  I didn't answer.  "Oh, I see.
Only when you're dancing, right?"

"Yeah," I said, thankful to have a way out.

"What else do you like to do?" he asked.

Damn, now it wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer any more.  "Umm, play with
the computer?"

"What else?"

"Watch movies?"

"What else?"

"N-nothing, really."  The more lies I told, the more I would have to
act when I saw him again, as I was sure I would.

"Don't you have any friends?" David asked.

Danger ahead.  "Um, sure.  I have a friend Amy."  Mr. Comfort's lovely
daughter.

"What do you two do together?"

Well, what would a boy and girl do?  I couldn't say swimming, since
even though it was midsummer, I was as white as a sheet.  We must have
played inside mainly.  "We play house," I finally said.

"You're the daddy?"  He was sniffing my hair.  I hoped he wasn't
getting ready for another go around.

"Usually.  Sometimes I'm the kid."

"What about other boys?  Are you friends with any of them?"

For some reason, I resented that question; I didn't like him talking
about other boys.  "No, I don't get along with boys much," I said.

"They tease you?"

"Y-yes."

"Ohh, I'm sorry, honey," he purred, kissing the top of my head.  "Do
they hurt you?"

"No, I stay away from them," I said.  "They chase me sometimes, is
all."

"What would they do if they catch you?"

"Beat me up, I think."  It was a disturbing thought; I realized that I
would need to worry not only about adults, but about children my own
age or older.

"Someday a boy will chase you, but he won't want to beat you up."

"Wh-what then?" I asked, coyly.

David rolled over on top of me and held my arms above my head, his
knees on either side of my thighs.  "He will want to hold you down like
this," he said, his grin so wide I smiled myself in response, "and kiss
you!"  With that, he bent down and started kissing me all over my face.
I twisted and struggled to get away, giggling shrilly.

Just as suddenly as he had started, he stopped and reached down to cup
my crotch.  "Seems like Chrissie is feeling frisky again," he said with
a grin, rubbing my little erection through the yellow shorts.

I blushed brightly.  "Um, I don't -" I began, my voice trailing away in
embarrassment.

He kissed me again, on the nose.  "I understand, sweetie," he said,
thankfully still smiling.  "We'll do something different this time."

I started to rethink the idea of staying here, then - but I didn't get
much time to think.  David pulled my shirt off over my head, then
reached back and pulled my sneakers and socks off.  I squirmed to get
away but not that hard; he was sitting on my pelvis, and there was
little chance of my being able to shift his weight.  When he got to my
shorts, it was looking very similar to last time.

David, however, had other ideas.  He moved off me and reared up on his
knees, holding my shorts by the hem, and raised his arms over his head,
dumping me onto the mattress like sugar from a bag, then lay down
beside me.  "Turn around," he said thickly.

I didn't respond.  I looked frantically around the room.  My clothes
were scattered everywhere; there was no way I could grab them all in
time to get away, and, despite my fear of this man, I didn't really
want to face the ramifications of running naked through the hallways of
a four-star hotel.

I had just decided to go for it anyway, starting away from him, when
David grabbed my arm, hard, above the elbow, and twisted me down toward
his feet.  "Ow!" I howled, as he grabbed my leg and pulled it to the
other side of him.

Now I was on top of him, my head pointed toward his feet, my bottom in
his face.  "Take it out," he said.  I couldn't see his face, but my
struggles had evidently made him angry.  "Take my cock out!" he
demanded again, swatting my ass for emphasis.

I hurried to comply, fumbling with nervous fingers to get his belt
undone, then pulling down the zip.  As I fished for his cock through
the fly of his boxers, I noticed he was calming down, even chuckling a
bit as he pulled the plug of toilet paper from my boyhole.  He was
still holding my thigh in a vice grip, however; I would have bruises in
the morning.

"Kiss it, you little slut," he growled, "kiss my cock."  As I leaned
forward to kiss it, I felt his fingers start to caress my own little
dick.  I took his cock in my hand and kissed the tip.  I kept on
kissing it as David rubbed my boydick with the palm of his hand,
gradually restoring it to hardness.

"Suck it, bitch," was his next order, not unexpected now.  "Watch your
teeth!"  I put my mouth down over the head of his penis and sucked it
like a straw, having given up any idea of resisting further.

Given the difference in our sizes, there was no way he could have
reached my little prong to reciprocate, but that wasn't his intention
anyway.  He spread my knees and pulled my bottom down to his face and
attacked my hole with his tongue.  I moaned around his cock as his
tongue wormed its way inside me once more.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he taunted.  "Suck harder!  Move on
it!" he said, pushing my head down till his dick jammed in my throat.

He let my head go and got back to licking out my ass.  I obediently
bobbed my head, driving the first couple inches into my throat, pulling
back to my lips, then back down again.  "Use your tongue!  Stroke it
with your hand!" he ordered between swipes of his tongue.  Nervously, I
did my best to comply, but his tongue-reaming was making it difficult
to concentrate.  In spite of everything, my bottom was beginning to
tingle again.

"Maybe you'd rather have it in here again?" he said, replacing his
tongue with a finger.

His other hand had moved back to my head, pressing down.  "Erm!  Errm!"
was all I could reply with his penis in my mouth.  That first fuck had
been too intense - I was sure I couldn't go through that again.  I
redoubled my efforts, noisily slurping at his dick, lubricating it with
my spit, pounding the shaft with my soft little hand, bobbing my head
rapidly.  Losing all self-control, intent on one task only, my too-long
hair tossed in the air as if blown by an invisible breeze.

Behind me, finger was replaced with tongue again, then finger again,
then both.  I gyrated my hips, wanting him to stop, to let me
concentrate, my neck was hurting, just leave my ass alone, you bastard,
let me get you off ... then he shoved his finger in deep, curling it
down towards the base of my dick.  It was only a little tickle, but it
sent shock waves through my body.  Distracted, I allowed my teeth to
graze him, only slightly, and braced myself for the slap I expected to
come.

"Oooh, yeah," he said.  He liked it!  I kept going, sure he was getting
close now, tracing the rim of his dickhead with the tip of my tongue
before sucking him deep yet again.

He kept going too, sawing his finger in and out of my behind, forcing
his tongue in next to it, pulling my hole wider, teasing my anal lip.
Then again, he curled his finger in the same place, harder this time,
rubbing it.

My eyes crossed, my back arched, my arm folded, and I collapsed onto
him, driving his cock farther into my throat that it had been before.
Shaking, I came up for air, only to have his hand on the back of my
head drive me down again.  He did that thing with his finger once more,
and only dimly could I hear him past the roar in my ears, "Oh, yeah,
you got a hot little bottom there, Chrissie," as I fell down again, got
up again, I was still trying to suck him but hitting him with my teeth
on almost every stroke.  Then he did it again, but this time he didn't
stop, two fingers now, rubbing that special place over and over, my
whole body tensed as I lost control, forgetting the penis in my mouth
entirely, waves of sensation jumping through me like electric shocks.
He toyed with me, pulling his fingers back, making me push my bottom
back to get it again, silently begging him to continue.  A light push
on my head brought me back to the task at hand, to the bargain he
demanded.

A suck for a fuck.  A lick for a twist.  A tooth-graze for a bit of
that pressure deep inside.  I was a robot, and he had the remote
control.  My rectum was burning, tomorrow it would be very sore, but
now the pain was subsumed by a more intense pleasure that drew sweat
from my body and tears from my eyes.  Finally, tiring of his game, he
gave me what I wanted, continually stimulating me, forcing my head down
onto his long penis, driving deep into my throat, enjoying the
sensation of my throat spasming around his cock as my anus spasmed
around his fingers.  He let me up for air, only slightly, letting me
breathe in the heavy scent of his pubic hair, then, too soon, drove me
back down again, spearing my throat, twisting and curling his fingers
into me.  Over and over again, he took my throat, teased my ass,
deprived me of air, blue flashes appearing before my glazed eyes.  I
was full of cock, so full I couldn't breathe, when I did my nose was
filled with the smell of cock, when I opened my eyes I saw only cock;
to my disordered mind, this penis was a force of nature, a vicious,
relentless god that could never really be appeased.

As if to emphasize the point, David moved his hand to my back, I could
finally pull away, far enough to see my attacker spit its contempt on
me, coating my face, but those fingers were not done, they came back
one last time, rougher than before, sending lightning bolts up my
spine.  I opened my mouth to scream, only to choke on that thick white
liquid that painted my face, covered my tongue, clogged my nostrils,
until finally I gave up completely, closing my mouth over that spasming
penis, letting it fill me, tasting it, licking it, swallowing it.

Exhausted, so weary it seemed an effort even to breathe, I rested on
David's body like a comfortable couch.  He let me lay a while, watching
the snake that had slain me slowly slink back to its den.  At last, he
swatted my bottom and lifted me off of him.

"*Now* I'll take you home," he said with a sneer.  "Go get cleaned up."