Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2017 01:38:47 +0000 (UTC)
From: xpud@yahoo.com
Subject: Stories of an Old Boy 3

Standard disclaimer: This story depicts sexual acts between minors. There
is also some watersports in it. You've been warned.

Contents to expect: plenty of foreplay, a good dose of watersports, and a
sudden Feels train. This may not be the chapter you get off to. (But
hey--in case you do, I was hard whilst writing most of it :D)

	So, a funny thing happened on the way to the shower. Okay, it was
IN the shower, and it really wasn't funny, but STILL. So, by this point,
Matty's mom is passed out on the couch with some evening sitcom blaring in
the living room (Matty tells me that it's basically his job to turn off the
TV at night). Matty and I walk out of his bedroom, erections out like
batons in a parade, gooey ropes of my cum draped across Matty's fine abs
(and chest, and neck, and one on his left ear), and head to the
bathroom. The bathtub itself isn't huge; it's just one of those
standard-issue guest bathroom type tubs; however, it does have a nice
shower wand with adjustable settings.
	Matty steps in and deftly adjusts the water to a tolerable
temperature before waving me in and closing the curtain. He takes the wand
and points it to the ground to avoid the dreaded cold-water-spit that
shower heads always threaten you with. Before I even get a chance to react,
though, he whirls around and aims the gun straight at my face, leaving me
sputtering, "Ack! Pth! Stop!" while he cackles maniacally. I reach out,
yank the wand from his hand, and turn the flow on HIS face; he backs up to
get away from the deluge and bumps the pull-open faucet knob with his butt,
turning off the water and leaving us both cold and feeling utterly
absurd. We crack up laughing.
	"Go ahead and turn it on," I say after catching my breath. "I
promise I won't attack you in the face with it."
	"You better not," he warns, and pulls the water faucet knob. The
water spits out angrily before returning to its usual flow.
	As he turns around to face me, I spray the jizz off of him
methodically, working from neck to chest to abs (the glob on his ear was a
casualty of the previous assault). As I get to the groin, though, I ask:
"Hey. Ever stood over a fountain?"
	"No," he responds innocently. "Why?"
	I click the shower wand's dial to the "rain" function, the one that
is not as fierce but just strong enough; suddenly, I squat and direct the
shower straight up under Matty's balls. "Aie!" he squeals, nearly jumping
out of the tub, "that tickles!" No sooner does he get those words out of
his mouth than a power-washing stream of pee flies out of his currently
soft button cock, nailing me in the face. I accidentally catch the stream
directly in my open mouth, leaving me sputtering in surprise and Matty
gasping in shock and embarrassment as the wand swings from my hand to hit
the tile wall. "Oh my God!" he says, still peeing and trying unsuccessfully
to stymie the flow with just his pelvic muscles. He finally grabs his penis
and pinches it hard, face as red as his dick head.
	My erection throbs painfully in reminder that it still hasn't gone
down and doesn't plan to in the near future. "It's cool. Let it go," I say,
putting my fingers between Matty's and prying his pinched fingers
open. Immediately, the stream returns in full force, which I take again on
my face, down my chest, and in my mouth; the taste of the nearly clear pee
is lightly salty mixed with an almost sweet note. I look up to see Matty's
face: confused, shocked, curious...maybe even a little excited.
	As his stream dies down, his dick picks back up, once again
pointing up to his chin. He breathes, "You just drank my pee."
	"And it wasn't half bad. You stay pretty hydrated," I say with a
ridiculous grin.
	"Ewwwww!" he says, breaking into an uncertain smile. "Why would you
drink it?"
	I stand up, taking the wand to wash myself off. "Well, I know we
stopped playing, but here's another Truth: I kinda...find pee to be a big
turn-on."
	This time, his face turns from shock to just
curiosity. "...really?" he asks. "So like, people peeing gives you a
boner?"
	I point down. "Depends, but yeah."
	"So like...when I peed my pants, you..."
	I look aside, thankful that he doesn't know that I made that happen
on purpose. "Yeah, but--well, yeah." Throb, throb. Down, dick--I'm busy at
the moment.
	"...huh." He thinks, pensively. "Isn't that called, like, a
fetish?"
	"Yeah--wait, you know what a fetish is?"
	"Mm-hmm," he nods. "It's like when you get hard from things that
aren't just sex, right?"
	"Right. So, yeah. That's definitely a fetish of mine."
	"Hm." He doesn't respond, but seems to be cataloging this new
information.
	I take the wand and rinse both of us, if only to keep from getting
cold again. "Here, turn around," I offer, handing him the wand. He puts it
back in its holder and presents his beautiful backside to me. "Remember
this?" I say as I rest my hands on his shoulders and dig my thumbs in. His
moans are ample enough an answer. I work him like putty, his youthful skin
and muscles stretching and kneading in my hands. Same as before, I work him
slowly, methodically, bringing him closer with each squeeze. When his back
is once again resting on my chest, I work his pec muscles and shoulders,
watching his head nearly lolling in moaning pleasure.
	I run my hands across his flat, smooth torso, down his sides,
around his hips, across his gorgeous ass, and slowly slip one finger into
his crack, just to see the response. As expected, he jolts up with a gasp
and stiffens slightly. "You like that?" I say as I suck on my other finger,
lubing it up for insertion.
	As I press it to his hole, however, he immediately clenches closed
and walks forward, away from the finger. He looks around hastily, says, "I
have to go," and gets out of the shower; grabbing a towel without drying
off, he then powerwalks into his bedroom.
	Well, that didn't go as planned. I hastily follow him with my own
towel, drying off as best I can whilst walking to his room. Inside, I find
him huddled closely, knees pulled up, sobbing quietly. Oh dear God, what
happened to this boy? "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I say, considering whether
or not to just rewind all this and forget it ever happened.
	"No, no, it's not your fault," he says through shuddering
sobs. "It's my fault, I'm sorry."
	I sit down directly in front of him and stare him in the eyes until
he meets my gaze. "No. It's not your fault. I don't know what happened, but
it's not your fault." He continues to cry. "Look, I--did..." I say,
searching for the words. "When you said earlier that you learned about
sperm 'at school,' were you telling the truth?"
	He shakes his head and looks down.
	"Did someone do something to you when you were younger?"
	No answer, but the scrunched up face of anguish says enough.
	"Who molested you? Was it a schoolmate?" Head shake. "Your father?"
Head shake. "Who?! I'll kill them, I swear to God!"
	Matty mumbles something unintelligible. "What? Who?" I ask.
	"James."
	Wait, wasn't that the cousin they were talking about at dinner? I
ask as much, and he nods slowly. "I'll kill him. I'll rip his dick off and
strangle him with it. I'll--" I stop ranting as I hear Matty's sobs
increase. "Matty, I'm sorry, but you know this isn't your fault. If he so
much as comes near you again, I swear--"
	"Please, stop," Matty says. "Just...don't." Matty sobs a few more
times. "I'm sorry. Just...I don't want to talk about it."
	It is at that moment I decide to make a rash action. "Hey Matty."
	"Yes?"
	"Did you know I have superpowers?"
	He lifts his head, sobs slightly, and wipes his nose across his
arm. "What do you mean?"
	"I mean I have literal superpowers."
	He turns his head slightly in a Kodak moment of skepticism. "Like
what?"
	"Have you ever played a game where you can save it and load it if
you mess up?"
	He nods slowly, warily.
	"I can do that."
	He looks at me in patent disbelief. "There's no way."
	"Yup. It's how I beat Rod in that fight earlier, and how I knew
exactly how to piss him off. Check this out." I go get a pen and a piece of
paper from my backpack. "I want you to write a sentence to yourself;
something only you would know."
	He gets this smile on his face, the "You're kidding me, right?
Where's the camera?" sort of smile, and writes down a sentence in the
paper.
	"You got it?" I ask. "Good. Now, sign it with your middle name,
since I don't even know what it is." He does so. "Okay. Now I will read it,
go back in time, and tell you what you're going to write."
	"This is--you're totally trolling me," he says, laughing
uncomfortably.
	"No, no, just trust me on this one. May I read it?"
	He reluctantly hands the note over. It reads:

	When I was 5 I played Candyland with my dad before he
left. -Kenneth

	I immediately rewind to the moment where...

	He gets this smile on his face, the "You're kidding me, right?
Where's the camera?" sort of smile, and writes down a sentence in the
paper.
	"You got it?" I ask. "Good. Now, sign it with your middle name,
since I don't even know what it is." He does so. "Okay. Now fold it up,
crumple it up, whatever, and throw it somewhere. I don't care where."
	"Oh, come on, now you're seriously just playing with me--"
	"You loved Candyland, didn't you?"
	He stops, frozen. "How--"
	"Was it your favorite game to play with your father?"
	Matty gets the same look that Rod had, that cornered fear face. He
takes a moment to breathe. "Yes. We played it every weekend."
	"Have you ever gone by Kenneth? Do you even like it?"
	"How are you doing that?!" he practically screams at me. "How?!"
	"I told you--I can travel to my own past. Think of it like telling
the future, only actually living it and then coming back later."
	He searches for some way to prove me wrong, and can't come up with
anything. "I still don't believe you."
	"No? Try to hit me."
	At this, Matty hesitates. "No, I don't--"
	"Throw something at me. Just do it." For added effect, I turn
around. I hear a sigh, and a PS4 controller nails me in the head. A quick
few rewinds later (I kinda suck at catching things, so it takes more tries
than I'd like to admit), I reach back and catch it less than an inch from
my head.
	"THAT IS SO COOL!" Matty shouts. "Oh my God that's cool! How did
you--why--"
	"I honestly don't know," I reply, turning around. Shrugging, I add,
"all I know is I've had it for a long, long time now."
	"What do you mean? You're only, what, 12?"
	"This time around, sure. If you add it all up though, all the times
I've lived...Matty, I've died maybe 7 times already, but every time I do,
my world stops at the very last second and I can rewind to any point and
try again. I remember being inside my Mom, I've been married to a dozen
people--Hell, I've saved lives, ended them, you name it."
	Matty stares off, trying to fathom the scope of it all. "Wow."
	"Do you know why I told you all about that?"
	"No, why?"
	I stare into his eyes again. "Because I want you to trust me. You
know my biggest secret now. Heck, you already know a few others, too. But
mostly, I want you to realize that I could've rewound this all to before I
scared you in the shower, but if I did, it'd only be cheating. I made that
mistake, and I want to live with it. I don't want to cheat you like that."
	He leans in and looks deep into my eyes. He has such beautiful
sky-blue eyes; it's not even fair--and then he slaps me. I rewind to catch
his hand, pull it to my mouth, and kiss it. He giggles and tries to slap me
with the other hand, but I see that one the first time and catch it. Long
story short, it ends up in a wrestling match and a tickle war where he
probably would have made a huge puddle if he hadn't let it all out on me
just a few minutes ago in the shower. Of course this makes us both hard
again, but we don't act on it.
	After we both catch our breath, he asks, "So, like, you're what, a
thousand years old, then?"
	"Eh, over that, but I lost count," I reply. "But only in my mind,
obviously not my body."
	"So why do you still seem, I mean, why are you 12?"
	"I like being 12."
	Matty scoffs. "Being this age SUCKS. Why would you even do it
again?"
	"I dunno. I mean, I get to hang out with you this way."
	"You're weird."
	"I know."
	Matty tries to respond, but gets caught in a yawn. "Okay, I'm like,
super tired. Um, I have blankets over there in the closet, and a pillow up
on top. You can make a spot on the floor if you want." With that, he goes
out to the living room to turn off the TV. Even though I'm hardcore tempted
to cuddle in bed with him, I know that we're not there yet, and I'm a
patient boy. Anyway, this whole "living with my mistakes" thing is kinda
refreshing; we'll see how long I can manage. As long as I can find my
underwear; now, where did they go?


End of Chapter 3


So! You've made it three chapters so far with me, so that's a good sign. As
before, I'm always interested in constructive feedback. Heck, if you just
want to comment on it and let me know what does it for you in this story,
or if there's anything else you'd like to say, I'm all ears: xpud (at)
yahoo (dot) com.

Until next time!