Date: Thu, 29 May 2008 08:54:06 -0700 (PDT)
From: Beautiful Creamer <beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dating Pretty Boys

  Dating Pretty Boys
  By Beautiful Creamer

  One -- Matt meets Bobby

  Matt Hardwood was having the kind of summer any 16-year-old,
good-looking, tanned, buff, pool lifeguard could expect.

  It was great!

  When Matt manned his post, watching over the safety of the swimmers,
pretty, skimpy-swimsuited, teenaged girls assembled in packs at the base of
his high chair.  And if that wasn't enough, when he had duty at the kiddie
pool, there was a platoon of foxy, twenty-something moms in sensible
two-piece suits with un-sensibly raging libidos.

  That was all well and good.

  Very good actually.

  Except...Matt had been distracted.

  By two boys who showed up at the pool every day, swam, kept to themselves
and generally minded their own business.

  Boys.

  Young boys, Matt was sure.  Around 12 or 13.

  Boys.

  A blond and a brunet.

  The blond was the one Matt seemed most distracted by. Though he could
barely admit to himself that he was distracted at all.

  Every day, "Blondie" and "Brownie," as Matt thought of them when he lay
in his bed and reviewed things before sleeping, showed up in tshirts and
Bermuda shorts.  They arrived around 10, took two adjacent lounge chairs
near Matt's lifeguard station, set their things down, laid towels across
the chairs and stripped to their bathing suits.

  That was very distracting to the protector of swimmer safety.

  Blondie and Brownie wore the skimpiest bathing suits Matt had ever seen
-- on a boy or a girl.

  They were sort of mini-Speedos that barely covered the bottom separation,
showing a good inch of "crack."  In the front, the material was so flimsy
that the outlines of the boys' "packages" left little to Matt's raging
imagination.

  The boys were well-behaved.  No noise.  No silliness.  They put on suntan
lotion, rubbing it on each other's backs.  But nothing flirty or gay.

  Just boys at a pool.

  So why did they, especially Blondie, have such an effect on Matt?

  The blond boy was the most beautiful person Matt had ever seen in his
life.

  "Exquisite" would have been Matt's word for him, had his vocabulary
evolved at age 16.

  Seemingly unaware of his exquisite sexuality as well.  Which made it much
more intense.

  Brownie was just a micrometer behind Blondie in beauty and untapped
sexuality.

  But Matt was enraptured by Blondie.  Who didn't seem to be aware of
Matt's existence on Planet Earth.

  Every day around noon, the boys took a last swim, dried off, dressed and
left the pool.  Leaving behind an increasingly confused and frustrated
Matt.

  Why did he even notice Blondie?  Was he gay for noticing?

  Probably not.  Matt noticed that just about every man at the pool, even
older men with wives and kids, therefore surely heterosexual, sneaked looks
at Blondie and Brownie.

  So maybe he was just curious or something.

  Still, it was unsettling.

  Until that Thursday, three weeks after school had ended, when Matt saw
Brownie leave the pool area.  Was that the first time Blondie had ever been
alone at the pool?  It seemed like it.

  Matt was wondering about that when his fellow lifeguard Derek came up and
said, "Time for your break, Matt."

  Right.

  OK.

  Matt climbed down and looked around.  Should he go over and introduce
himself to Blondie?

  How gay would that be?

  So what would he...

  "Hi, Mr. Lifeguard," Matt heard a sweet, boyish voice say.  "My name's
Bobby.  Bobby Pipeuse.  I see you every day and I never introduced myself.
Sorry."

  Matt turned and saw Blondie.  Bobby.  Standing there.  Looking at Matt.
With a million-watt smile that almost singed Matt's corneas.

  And, oh... unless Matt was losing his depth perception, the younger boy's
tiny bathing suit was severely tented with what seemed to be a very
respectably sized cock.

  Matt considered fight or flight as adrenalin flooded his veins.

  He chose to talk.  And look Bobby in the eye -- not the crotch.  "My
name's Matt.  Matt Hardwood.  Pleased to meet you, Blondie -- I mean
Bobby."

  Matt's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Bobby only increased the
wattage on his smile to an intensity regulated by the Nuclear Regulatory
Commission.

  Matt couldn't help but drink in the fresh, undiluted sexuality of the boy
who stood less than two feet from him.  Slim, pink, body.  Gorgeous face.
A plump bottom any girl in the world would die for.  And,
wonder-of-wonders, the biggest, puffiest nipples Matt had seen on anyone,
man or woman.

  Primal urges Matt barely understood attacked him.  He wanted to do things
with that body.  Sex things.  Loving things.  Things the mainstream world
would never understand or approve.

  And he had no idea why.

  Or what he would even say to Bobby.

  Bobby solved that.  "My friend Rickey and I see you every day and you
seem so nice.  Not bossy or mean or stuck on yourself, like the other
lifeguards, so we wanted to say hello to you.  Do you go to East High?"

  Matt relaxed half a smidgen.  He could answer that question, even
embellish.  "Yes," he said.  Then he added, "I'll be a junior.  I'm 16 and
I just got my driver's license."

  Too much information?  Apparently not.  Bobby was still smiling.

  Were people watching Matt talking to a younger kid?  Did they suspect
anything?  What was there to suspect?

  Thank goodness lifeguard trunks are bulky and hide erections, because
Matt had one.

  As did Bobby.  Still.

  Bobby said, "Rickey and I will be in eighth grade next year.  He's 13, I
will be in a week.  We're too young to have jobs, but we like the pool.
And we like to tan.  You have a great tan, Matt."

  Complimented again, Matt wondered if he should return the compliments by
saying something like, "You're the most beautiful person on earth.  For the
past three weeks, all I can think about is pulling down your Speedo,
sticking my cock in your bottom, and fucking you until I die of
dehydration."

  Instead, he chose to say, "You have a nice tan too, Bobby.  It looks good
on you."

  Bobby beamed at the praise.  He thanked Matt then said, "My friend Rickey
went to call home and I'm afraid I'll burn.  Could you please put some
lotion on my shoulders and back.  Please, Matt?"

Matt gasped.

  Audibly.

  Touching this perfect angel?

  In public?

  Semi-intimately?

  Where people could see and judge and gossip?

  Matt didn't care.  He wasn't missing the opportunity to lay his hands on
his "dream boy."  Or whatever Bobby was to Matt at that point.

  He just hoped people didn't think he was gay or anything.  He was just
helping a pool patron.  A gorgeous, incredibly sexy patron who was sporting
a major hard-on.

  Bobby sat on the lounger and handed Matt the lotion.  Matt squirted some
in his hands, took a deep breath, then rubbed the creamy substance on
Bobby's warm, silky shoulders.

  Matt gasped again.  Which almost didn't allow him to hear Bobby's soft
moan.

  !!!!!!

  Bobby moaned!

  Matt rubbed some more, on the shoulder blades that time.  Bobby moaned
with pleasure, but only loudly enough for Matt to hear.

  "That feels wonderful, Matt," the angel said.  "You have such strong
hands.  Please don't stop."

  That would have been the moment to get off the gay train and catch the
"straight express," which was clearly going in the opposite direction.

  Matt considered that for a nanosecond, then rejected it.  He rubbed on
and murmured, "Thanks, Bobby."  He almost added, "I've never enjoyed doing
anything in my life half as much as rubbing your shoulders."  Almost.

  They continued in silence, except for soft moans.  Then when the job was
clearly done, Bobby turned to Matt, locked his beautiful eyes on Matt's and
said, "Isn't Friday your day off?"

  Matt nodded dumbly.  Where was this going?

  "Please come to my house for lunch.  My Mama will make us grilled cheese
sandwiches and we can get to know each other.  Noon.  123 Maple Street.
OK?"

  Did Bobby just make a date with Matt?  Could Matt possibly accept?  What
were the long-term implications of Matt agreeing?  Would he become gay?  Or
would everyone think he was gay, which could be even worse?  How could he
possibly accept?  It was out of the question.  No way.

  So Matt said, "Sure, Bobby, thanks.  I'll be there.  Noon.  123 Maple
Street.  Thanks again."

  Fateful decisions are usually made against instinct. Or in surrender to
other instincts.

  Bobby got up, smiled at Matt, went to the pool and jumped in.  A few
minutes later, Rickey returned, jumped in the pool and swam around.  At
noon, both boys packed their gear, finger-waved at Matt on his lifeguard
stand and left.

  Leaving behind a stunned young man.  Who may have already been falling in
love with someone who was all wrong for him.  Which happens way more
frequently than people falling in love with the right person.


  Two -- Thursday at the Pipeuses

  After walking to Bobby's house, the boys were sitting with Bobby's Mom
eating baloney sandwiches on white bread, with mayo.

  "Drink all your milk, boys," Mrs. Pipeuse said.  "You need to have plenty
of fluids in you."

  The boys giggled.  It was so much fun being gay little seductresses, but
doing so with their parents' active compliance was heaven on earth.

  "I met a new friend today, Mom," Bobby said.  "He's coming by for lunch
tomorrow -- and probably dinner."

  "If he can still walk by then, you mean," Mama kidded.  "So who's the
latest victim of your charms?"

  "His name's Matt.  He's dreamy!!  A lifeguard at the pool.  And he's
straight, Mama."

  "All the men and boys you two little vixens conquer are straight.  At
least when you conquer them.  And they're all `dreamy.'  But I believe Matt
is your first lifeguard, isn't he?"

  More giggling from the boys.  "Yes, Mom," Bobby said.  "You make it sound
as if I'm always out looking for new boyfriends.  I hardly ever date.
Rickey's the little prickteaser, not me."

  Mama scoffed -- loudly.  "Ha!" she said good-naturedly.  "You two little
exhibitionists don't go to the pool to swim or get a tan.  You go so you
can prance around 95% naked in public.  And get a rise out of every man and
boy in the zip code."

  The boys giggled again.  Mom was right about everything.

  "All right you two," she said. "I'll clean the lunch dishes.  You can go
`play' in Bobby's room.  I know that after all that stimulation this
morning, you need to play.  But wrap it up by four o'clock.  It's
Thursday."

  Sound advice for Thursday and the boys knew it.

  Bobby and Rickey ran off happily up the stairs and into Bobby's room.
They both desperately needed relief and were happy to have each other's
loving company.

  Bobby and Rickey had been best friends since they were seven and lovers
since they were 11.  Okay, 10.  Sucking each other's pretty cocks and
swallowing each other's creamy loads, once they started making cream.

  That day, they kissed and tongued each other's tonsils but stayed dressed
until Bobby said, "I have to pee.  Will you help me, Rickey?"

  Rickey giggled.  Any invitation to touch Bobby's penis was always
welcome.

  The boys kicked off their flip-flops, stripped off their tshirts and
lowered their shorts, standing there facing each other wearing only their
ultra-skimpy bathing suits.

  Bobby's suit was severely tented, which always made Rickey drool.
Rickey's willie was about half the size of Bobby's substantial tickler.
Which didn't matter one smidgie to the men and boys who adored them both.
Big or small penilely, they were both ultra-hotties.

  Wearing only the wispy suits, the boys went into the bathroom connected
to Bobby's room.  Bobby stood in front of the toilet, lifted the seat,
dropped his suit until it puddled at his feet and said, "Oh, Rickey.  I
have to pee so bad, but I'm so stiff.  Could you `aim' for me?"

  Rickey dropped his own suit, then spooned up behind Bobby.  He rubbed his
teeny stiffie into Bobby's bottom crack, reached around Bobby's right hip
and held Bobby's warm stiffie in his soft hand.

  Bobby needed to pee, but he also needed to cum.  So his "equipment" was
confused.

  Rickey stroked Bobby's woodie as he kissed Bobby's neck.  Which would
erupt first, the pee or the cum?

  Neither.

  So the boys changed strategy.  Both naked, they got into the shower and
turned it on.  Facing each other and kissing hungrily.  Bobby began peeing.
All over Rickey.  Who giggled lustily, then peed all over his loving
friend.

  More kissing and mutual washing ensued, until the boys were more or less
clean and more randy than ever.

  Pausing only to mostly dry each other off, the boys sissy-ran to Bobby's
big, queen-size bed and threw themselves on top of the often-drenched
sheets.

  More kissing -- eager -- voracious.  Then, with practiced ease, the boys
reversed themselves and took each other's peeny into each other's warm, wet
mouth.

  Rickey skinned Bobby's cockhead with his teeth, then licked and sucked it
with all his considerable skills and full ardor.

  Bobby tongued Rickey's circumcised, tiny tickler lovingly, making his
BFFF (best fuck-friend forever) gasp and pant.

  The boys knew how to make each other cum a bucket.  They both loved the
act of swallowing each other's creamy loads.  And neither had cum in hours.
So before long, Bobby heard a muffled squeal and felt hot jets of boyish
spunk in his mouth.  He swallowed eagerly, then felt his own sweet agony,
pumping five thick globs down his friend's throat.

  The boys rested for a while -- kissing and cooing and exchanging vows of
unending love.  Then they discussed what awaited them on that night.  Which
they called "Daddy Thursday."

  On the fifth day of every week, Bobby's mom, Mrs. Pipeuese, and Rickey's
mom., Mrs. Fellato, dressed scorchingly hot in tiny minidresses, seamed,
fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings, five-inch stiletto
heels, and full make-up.  They fed their families, left the house at seven
and didn't return unto 12 hours later.  Disheveled.  Smelling of male
juices.  Occasionally missing their panties.

  Which would make most husbands at least curious, if not jealous.

  Not Mr. Pipeuse and Mr. Fellato.

  By delightful agreement, the ladies enjoyed one night a week to do as
they wished and the gentlemen enjoyed a similar privilege.  Anything they
wished.

  Which was always the same wish.

  They fucked their sons.

  Their beautiful, sissyboy, cockteaser, cockpleaser sons.

  With the full, eager consent of the sons, of course.

  No other dad-son fucking during the rest of the week.  No blowjobs,
handjobs or even flirting.  Just 7 p.m. Thursday to 7 a.m. Friday.

  All in all, quite a sensible arrangement.

  Bobby and Rickey were quite sexually active during the rest of the week,
of course.  As were their daddies, who by all indications had quite
satisfying sex with their wives during the 156 hours each week not covered
by the "Thursday Accords."

  The origin of this landmark in diplomacy occurred about one year earlier,
just after Bobby's 12th birthday.  Bobby's mother and father knew he was a
dickteasing, cocksucking little sissyboy, of course.  Duuhhh!  They didn't
fight that.  In fact, they facilitated Bobby's "nature" whenever possible,
giving Rickey and Bobby "sex sanctuary" in the house and allowing "the
right kind of dating" for the sweeties.  They also convinced Rickey's
parents to go along, which made life easier and better for everyone.
Especially the men and boys who fucked Rickey and Bobby's pretty bottoms.

  Anyway, one Thursday evening, Mrs. Pipeuse's bridge club finished early
and when she got home she discovered her husband and son in bed together.

  Naked!

  Which could possibly explained away by a particularly skilled barrister.
Save for the fact that Daddy's cock was buried deeply in Bobby's bottom.
That sort of defied the "it's-not-what-you-think" alibi.

  She didn't scream.  She schemed.

  Leverage like that comes along rarely in a marriage.  Mrs. Pipeuse used
it.

  After Mr. Pipeuse "delivered the mail" in Bobby's warm bottom, he sneaked
out of Bobby's room, thinking he was undiscovered.

  His wife confronted him -- not with divorce, jail or dismemberment.  But
with a deal.  The Thursday Accords.

  "You get 12 hours a week to do what you want.  I get the same.  I'll even
negotiate it with Rickey's parents."

  It worked.

  The daddies had been fucking their boys once a week ever since.

  And the boys adored every minute of it.

  That Thursday afternoon, the boys "kissed naked" for a while, getting
their stiffies up again, then pillow-talked as each fondled the other's
willie.

  "I love Thursdays, don't you, Rickey?" Bobby asked.

  Rickey gasped as he enjoyed Bobby's strokes.  "Me too, Bobby.  Please
don't make me cum yet.  I only want to cum once more this afternoon so I
can have big juicies for my Daddy."

  "You're so lucky, Rickey.  Your Daddy is so hot!"

  "Your Daddy is hot, too. He works out all the time and he's killer
handsome.  You're the lucky one."

  "You're right, Rickey.  My Daddy is hot, but your Daddy is smokin'.  He
gets those big muscles from being a carpenter, and those calloused hands!!
Oh, how I would love three of his big, rough fingers up my bottom as he
sucked my willie!  And I'll bet he fucks you rough too, doesn't he?"

"Sometimes he does, [giggle].  But I'd still like to compare him to your
Daddy."

  Bobby thought for a moment, then said, "Let's ask them.  Tonight.  Next
Thursday, for my birthday, we switch daddies.  Or we could even get
together in the same bedroom and trade back and forth."

The image and the sheer dirty naughtiness of Bobby's suggestion, threw poor
Rickey off Cum Cliff.  He cried out, "Oh, Mr. Pipeuse!" as he spurted three
cum ropes.

  Clearly, Bobby thought, Rickey had been envisioning that carnal scene for
some time.  Then the thought of Mr. Fellato's rough, carpenter's hand
cupping Bobby's bottom as he fucked Bobby was too much.  He matched Rickey
rope for rope, then did him one better.

  This Daddy night would be great.  The next one would be fabulous.

  Later that day, at 6:45 p.m., Bobby's Mom puttered around the kitchen
picking up the supper dishes.  The family had just wolfed down meat loaf,
mashed potatoes and carrots.  Though the only comestibles the three of them
were really thinking about were sperm and semen.

  Mom with unknown person(s).

  Daddy and Bobby with each other.

  Dinner conversation was a bit strained on Thursdays, though Bobby did
spice it up a bit by describing his all-but-completed seduction of Matt the
lifeguard.

  Mom and Daddy loved stories about Bobby's beaus.  It made them feel their
son was special.

  "So I suppose you'll be `showing Matt your room' tomorrow afternoon, eh,
Sport?" Daddy teased.

  Bobby batted his eyes at the question, then giggled.  Everyone laughed.

  Almost, but not quite "Leave it to Beaver."

  Dressed to stop traffic, Mom got everything into the dishwasher, kissed
her husband and son and was out the door at 7 on the dot.  Destination
unknown.

  Leaving father and son together.

  Daddy looked at Bobby.

  Good golly, he was beautiful!

  It was no wonder every man on the planet wanted to fuck him.

  Bobby shyly got up from his chair and went over to sit on Daddy's lap.
Putting his arms around Daddy's neck, he parted his lips for a kiss.

  Which Daddy eagerly provided.  And wondered for the millionth time
whether his wife would be able to throw Tuesday into the bargain.  Or two
hours on Wednesday.  Fifteen minutes on Monday.

  Taking it slow.  Building the heat, the fully-clothed lovers kissed,
panted and gasped.

  When Daddy's ears threatened to ignite, he took Bobby in his strong arms
and carried him up the stairs.  As they entered Bobby's bedroom (they never
fucked in the parents' room), Bobby spoke.

  Which no guy wants his lover to do at that stage of the action.

  Bobby said, "Daddy, do you think I'm pretty?"

  OK, Daddy thought.  That's an acceptable question with an easy answer.
"You're the most beautiful person on earth, my sweet darling."

  Bobby smiled broadly.

  Great, Daddy thought.  On with the fucking.  First I'll take off...

  "Do you think Rickey's pretty?" Bobby asked.

  Uh-oh.  Dangerous ground.

  Wrong answer could mean no "pussy."

  Which would be a disaster!!!!

  Beads of sweat formed on Daddy's forehead.  He opened his mouth to say
something and hope that it was right, when Bobby said, "I think he's
pretty.  And he thinks you're very handsome and manly.  Rickey says I'm
lucky to have a Daddy as beautiful as you."

  Huh?

  Where was this going?  Could be good.  Could be bad.  Daddy wished they
could resolve things and get on with the fucking.  For which he only had 11
hours and 43 minutes left.

  Daddy decided to ask.  "Why are you telling me all this, Bobby?"

  Bobby batted his eyes at Daddy the way that always stiffened the paternal
cock.  "Do you think Rickey's pretty, Daddy?"

  Daddy gulped and said, "Rickey's pretty, but you're gorgeous.  And I'm
the luckiest father in the world."

Bobby hugged Daddy and removed his shirt.  Exposing the nipples that Daddy
dreamed about all-non-Thursday.

  Daddy hastily removed his shoes and socks, then shirt and pants. Standing
in his boxers.  His big cock stiff and poking from the fly.

  Daddy laid Bobby on his back on the bed and then attached his mouth to
Bobby's erect, right nipple.

  Bobby moaned with lust.

  But then he kept talking.  "Daddy, Rickey has a crush on you.  He wants
you to fuck him.  And it's OK with me.  I would consider it a favor to me
if you would fuck my friend, Daddy.  Will you, please?"

  Daddy could forgive Bobby for talking as long as he said things like
that.

  Oh my.

  Fucking Rickey!

  Daddy had often imagined that, but never thought...

  Then Bobby spoke again, "Of course, we would have to do it on Thursdays
and I would have to `occupy' Mr. Fellato while you and Rickey went at it."

  This was turning into a far more interesting Thursday than Daddy had
imagined.

  Not that there were any bad or boring Thursdays.

  Daddy stopped sucking Bobby's nipple and lay on his back to consider a
most interesting offer.  In order to fuck a SECOND gorgeous angel, all he
had to do was let a neighbor man fuck his own son.

  What a great deal!

  Especially since other men and boys were already fucking his own son.

  Daddy felt his son's warm, wet mouth on his fatally aroused cock.  Bobby
stopped sucking a moment to ask, "Please say yes, Daddy.  PLEASE!"

  Bobby resumed sucking his Daddy's cock.

  How could Daddy say no?


  Three -- Matt joins a happy club

  Daddy and Bobby didn't sleep much on Thursday nights.  That particular
Thursday seemed especially vigorous.

  At 6 a.m. when the alarm rang, Bobby's eyes didn't open immediately.
They were somewhat glued shut by dried cum.  Bobby giggled at his
predicament, then rubbed his eyes so he could greet the day.

  The best way to greet any day, of course, is with a good, stiff fucking.

  Since Daddy's cock and balls hadn't been used in three whole hours, he
had a nice erection.  Which at that moment was fully embedded in his son's
beautiful ass.

  It drove Daddy wild with lust to think that, of all the men who wanked
themselves insane dreaming of Bobby and Rickey, he was the one fucking
Bobby.  And soon, Rickey.  During a carefully defined one-fourteenth of the
week.

  Since Daddy had lost several loads in his son's perfect pooper, he was
able to give the lad "what-for" for a good 28 minutes, making the boy
squeal and cum twice before he erupted.

  Miraculously, Daddy was able to suck Bobby to one more nice cum by 6:50,
leaving them ten frantic minutes to change the sheets and shower.
Individually.

  At seven a.m., Friday, when Mom walked in the door, with mussed hair,
smeared makeup, a peculiar smell and panties in her hand instead of on her
pussy, Thursday was officially over.

  Daddy went to work, exhausted, happy and counting down the hours until he
could fuck both Bobby and Rickey.

  Mom showered and got back into shorts, sandals and a plain top.  Resuming
her duties as suburban mom.

  Bobby went to sleep.  Until eleven.  Which gave him an hour until Matt
arrived.

  Bobby made his bed, then fluffed up his hair a bit.  He washed his face
and hands, then his feet and crotch with soap and a warm washcloth.  Being
prepared for whatever Matt might fancy.

  Bobby looked at his toes.  Pretty.  But he wished he had gone for a
pedicure.  With some clear nail polish.  Oh well.  Maybe for his first real
date with Matt.

  Bobby selected his underwear carefully.  Pink sent the wrong signal for a
first "interaction," though Bobby had some beautiful, silky, pink
underthings.

  He decided that a silky, pastel-yellow set of strapped undershirt and
ultrabrief underpants would do the job.  Over those, Bobby wore a navy blue
polo shirt; tiny, very brief, khaki shorts; and baby-blue flip flops.

  Perfect.

  He was ready when Matt rang the doorbell at precisely noon.  A good sign.
The boy was clearly eager.

  So Bobby made him wait until 12:11 before making his grand entrance down
the staircase.  Which gave Mom time to interrogate him

  Matt was terrified about the whole thing -- wasn't sure where the courage
to do all this came from.

  From his testicles, of course.  They were telling him what to do and when
to do it.

  He was sure that Mrs. Pipeuse thought he was a pervert.  What 16-year-old
boy accepts a lunch invitation from a 12-almost-13-year-old boy?  A
pervert, of course.

  But Mrs. Pipeuse wasn't acting like that.  She was treating him the way
she would if Matt were calling on her 15-year-old daughter.

  Was Matt still on earth?

  If so, he almost lost it when he saw Bobby descend the staircase.

  Bobby made Matt's heart thump.  And his prick throb.

  The boy moved regally.  And Matt was becoming Bobby's loyal subject.

  When Bobby reached the bottom of the stairs, as he glided to the standing
Matt's position, he said, "Matt!  I'm so happy you could come for lunch."

  That was the "normal" part, as far as Matt was concerned.

  The "abnormal" part followed.

  Bobby stunned his prey with his smile.  And his beauty.  Then he did him
in by offering Matt his cheek for a kiss!

  His cheek for a kiss!!!!

  Matt trembled.  Looked at a smiling Mrs. Pipeuse.

  Looked at Bobby's cheek.

  And kissed it.

  A little longer than he intended to.  And a bit more wetly.

  The lunch meeting had already taken a stranger turn than Matt had
imagined.

  More was to follow.

  Bobby returned Matt's kiss.  Smooching Matt's cheek warmly.  Making
Matt's cock twitch.

  Mom hoped she wouldn't have to call emergency medical services for Matt.

  She broke the tension by saying, "Lunch is served, boys."

  During the grilled cheese, potato chip and Coke lunch, Matt wondered if
he had ever been more terrified.

  And aroused.

  He tried not to look at Bobby, because he was already almost cumming in
his pants just from being near the boy.

  Bobby was adorable.

  Matt adored Bobby.

  He had no idea why.

  And he was confronting the most unclear, critical, potentially-ruinous,
imminent future of his young life.

  When the last potato chip had been consumed, Mrs. Pipeuse, who had done
most of the table talk at lunch, said, "Why don't you show Matt your room,
Bobby?  I'll clean these."

  Both Bobby and Matt thanked her for lunch.  At least Matt thought he did.
He wasn't thinking too clearly.

  Was he being lured into Bobby's room for a nefarious purpose?  Would he
be kidnapped and sold for body parts?

  Or was this what it appeared to be?

  No matter.  The possibility of sex (or even just kissing) with Bobby was
well worth the threat of disembowelment.

  Bobby took Matt's hand, right in front of his mother!  "Come with me,
Matt," Bobby said.

  At which point Matt was pretty sure that his cock was going to be really
happy, really soon.

  Rather meekly, Matt let Bobby lead him upstairs.

  Bobby's warm hand felt so good.  Matt wondered how Bobby's hand would
feel on his cock.

  But they could never do things like that while Mrs. Pipeuse was home.
Could they?

  Bobby opened the door and led Matt in.  He released Matt's hand, swept
the room with his hand and said, "This is my room.  Do you like it, Matt?"

  In truth, Matt thought the room was rather dull.  No video games.  No TV.
What did Bobby do for fun in this room?

  Oh.

  Matt blushed.  Which was as good an answer as any.

  There was a mildly uncomfortable silence for about 15 seconds.  Then
Bobby took off his shirt and undershirt with one smooth motion.  Then his
shorts with another practiced motion.

  Bobby stood in profile to Matt.  Wearing only his skimpy, silky,
pastel-yellow underpants.  Which were severely tented by a cock that, to
Matt, appeared to be nearly the equal of his own manly meat.

  Matt gulped.

  He was about to cross a very large, wet river.  A Rubicon between worlds.
A river filled with a creamy, sticky substance.

  Bobby turned to face Matt, cupped his enormous right nipple with his
right hand and said, "We both know what we want, don't we, Matt?"

  Matt found his courage.  He removed his own shirt, revealing his tanned,
buff, upper torso.

  Then one last waver.  "Your Mom..." Matt said.

  "Won't bother us," Bobby replied.

  Good enough for Matt.

  He stepped forward and, in defiance of his upbringing, yet in accord with
his instinct, he took Bobby's half-naked body into his half-naked arms and
embraced him half-nakedly.

  Warm older-boy flesh against warm younger-boy flesh.

  Ecstasy.

  Matt kissed Bobby.  Who didn't exactly swoon.  But he surrendered
completely to Matt.  Telling Matt without words that Matt could satisfy any
and all of his disgusting needs on any portion of Bobby's body that Matt
chose.

  Matt's tongue found Bobby's as their hands explored each other's bodies.
Matt slipped his hands down the back of Bobby's sexy underpants, cupping
each cheek in a hand.  Effortlessly, he lifted 100-pound Bobby by his
buttocks until Bobby's left nipple was in contact with Matt's starving
mouth.

  Matt devoured the nipple, licking, sucking and adoring it, then turned
his wet attention to its companion.  All the while, massaging Bobby's
perfect bottom.

  That was all it took for Bobby.

  With an incredibly sissyish squeal, Bobby filled his pretty underpants
with a gallon of Grade A boy's cream.

  Matt noticed.  And took the initiative for the second time that
afternoon.  He removed the last of his clothes, laid Bobby on his back, on
the bed, then slowly, teasingly peeled down Bobby's pretties to reveal
Bobby's cum-drenched, half-limp cock.

  Such a big load, Matt thought.  From such a big cock!  Attached to such a
sexy boy!

  Seized by another impulse of passion that Matt hardly understood, he
began to kiss the shaft, then the head of his young lover's cock.  All the
while sliding the soaked, silky underpants down and off Bobby's legs and
feet.

  Bobby gasped with pleasure.  And surprise at Matt's growing initiative.
And eagerness to be ruled by the Gay Side.

  When Matt saw the effect his cock-kissing had on Bobby, he surprised them
both once again.  Taking Bobby's stiffening peener into his warm, wet
mouth.  And sucking.

  Not bad, Matt thought.  Wonderful, even.  Something he would like to do
for Bobby every day for the rest of their lives.  As long as no one he ever
knew or would ever know would suspect for a microsecond that Matt would do
anything resembling what Matt was doing to Bobby's pretty penis.

  Matt still had some issues to work through, you see.

  But the moment was relatively issue-free, as Matt sucked and licked and
rubbed his wet tongue all around the younger boy's fiery-red cockhead.

  How could anything that felt so good be wrong, Matt thought fleetingly.
Then returned to his welcome task with great ardor and greater lust.

  Bobby was gasping and panting with sexual delight.  Which pleased Matt
greatly.  He loved making his angel of love happy.  It stiffened his cock
even more and made him lick harder.

  Soon enough, the heat level rose to boiling and poor Bobby gasped out, "I
can't take it any more.  I'm going to cum right now.  Unnhhh.
[Squeeeaaaaaalllllll!!!!!!!!!!!]"

  And the little doll spurted a thick, creamy load into Matt's delighted
mouth.

  For a brief moment, Bobby worried that Matt would be repulsed and would
run out of Bobby's room, down the stairs, out the front door and back to
Straightsville for the rest of his life.

  What a silly notion.

  With all the blood that should have been feeding Matt's brain engorging
his cock, he was incapable of making any decision other than one that would
empty his testicles.

  Matt swallowed every drop.  Licked his lips.  And considered his own
needs.

  But how to begin?

  Bobby showed the way.

  Bobby held his arms open for a loving, cummy-mouth kiss, which Matt
scooted up to administer.  They rubbed cocks as they kissed.  Bobby's was
limp, but twitching under the erotic stimulation.

  Bobby was a giving lover.  He bypassed his third orgasm in deference to
Matt's first.

  He gently eased Matt from on top of him, rolled over onto his stomach,
then, head and shoulders on the pillow, moved to his knees, lifting his
buttocks in lewd invitation.

  Matt leapt to his knees, positioning himself behind Bobby's beckoning
bottom.

  And took a moment to consider his prize.

  A perfect, pink, plump bottom.  Eager for a buggering.  The wrinkly hole
winking at him.  Bobby's pretty, full ball bag dangling sweetly.

  If Matt didn't stick his cock in there soon, he would die!

  But not quite yet...

  Bobby twisted his head so he could see Matt.  He was obviously EAGER for
what every young boy needs and wants -- a good, stiff fucking.  But a
pain-free fucking.

  "Lube's in the top drawer," he groaned sexily to Matt.

  Matt looked around.  "Which drawer?" he asked.

  "All of them." Bobby replied, a bit impatiently.

  Which should have told Matt something about the frequency of Bobby's
"entertaining."

  But he wasn't thinking.  No blood getting to the brain.

  So he picked a drawer, reached in and extracted a jar of some very
slippery stuff.

  What was he supposed to do with it exactly?

  Bobby knew.  "Put it on two fingers and rub it on my bottomhole.  The
inside.  Then on your cock.  Then it won't hurt me.  It'll feel good for
both of us."

  The "feel-good" part sounded great.

  The fingers in another boy's asshole part...well...not as good.

  Still, you've gotta break eggs to make an omelet.

  So Matt slathered up his fingers with lube, took a deep breath, and
entered Bobby's "pussy" with it.

  Matt loved what happened next.  Bobby grunted with obvious pleasure.
Matt sighed with the pleasure of giving pleasure to his boy lover.

  The moment of Matt's greatest pleasure was at hand.

  Carefully, so he wouldn't cum and spoil the moment, Matt applied lube to
his red, enflamed, ultra-stiff cock.

  He applied a second layer, then looked at Bobby's greased, wiggling
bottom.

  "Please fuck me now, Matt."  Bobby begged.  "I need it.  Please!"

  That's what we all want to hear most, isn't it, guys?

  Matt placed his cockhead at the gate of paradise, took a deep breath, and
pushed.

  Sliding his cock in all the way to his pubic hairs with one even motion.

  Which was Matt's second clue about how often Bobby entertained.

  And the last thing on either of their minds.

  Matt was enjoying himself more than he ever had in his life.  His cock
was in the warmest, wettest, tightest spot it had ever been.

  With each stroke, Matt's cock was rubbing torturingly against Bobby's
tender prostate.

  But that was the physical part.

  Matt loved fucking Bobby, not just fucking.

  Bobby loved being fucked by Matt, not just being fucked.

  They were lovers, not just fuckers.  And that was just the beginning.

  Matt and Bobby got into a sweet, fucking motion.  Bobby yelped softly
each time he felt Matt's cock nip his prostate.  Matt surrendered to the
greatest sensations of his life.

  They fucked and loved.

  As Matt felt his crisis approach, he leaned over and put his full weight
onto Bobby.

  Bobby felt dominated and submissive and powerless to resist.  Which was
what he needed to feel for his very best orgasms.

  And then he had one.

  A very messy, very intense cum that soaked his sheets and tightened his
bottomhole.  Which was just what Matt needed to push him off the edge.

  Matt hadn't cum since he had wanked in bed the previous night, thinking
about Bobby.  Nearly 18 hours earlier.  So he had LOTS of creaminess to
share with Matt's bottom.

  Lots.

  So much that Bobby felt he was getting an enema.

  Which Daddy sometimes gave him for fun.

  This was a cum enema.

  For a panicked moment, Bobby worried that he would poop.  Which would
sort of ruin the mood.  Perhaps.

  Matt pumped and pumped.  And fell completely in love.


  Four -- The rules

  At 5 p.m. Matt was lying on his back having his restiffened cock sucked
deliciously by Bobby.  They had thus far enjoyed a stunning afternoon and
the imminent explosion in Matt's balls was about to make it even better.

  Matt filled Bobby's cheeks with what was his fourth orgasm of their
loving contact.  Bobby had received the pleasure of seven.

  Matt was wondering if he had time for another...or two...before he had to
be home for dinner.  Bobby was swallowing his "sissyboy's big reward."

  Then things changed.

  The door to Bobby's room flew open and there was Bobby's Mom.

  Matt yelped most unmanfully.

  But, Bobby had said his Mom wouldn't bother them!!

  They were busted.  Matt would be branded as gay.  He would go to Gayness
Prison.  Worse, he would never see Bobby again!!

  But no.

  "Hi, boys," Mrs. Pipeuse said.  "I see you're having a good time.  Great.
Just wanted to tell you to wash up, change the sheets and get ready for
supper.  Will you be joining us for dinner, Matt?  I called your mother and
told her you would.  She's not expecting you until ten."

  Huh?

  What was this place?

  Mrs. Pipeuse left the room and closed the door.

  Matt looked at Bobby, who smiled and said, "Supper's not until six.  Want
to `do it' again?  Let's change the sheets and get in the shower.  By then,
you'll be ready."

  Double huh?

  But Bobby was right.  Matt was able to produce and administer one more
killer cum that monumental afternoon.  And the boys were clean, dressed and
downstairs for supper at six on the dot.

  As were Mr. and Mrs. Pipeuse.

  Mrs. P said, "Darling, this is Matt Hardwood, Bobby's new boyfriend."

  Matt winced at his new title.  But he also aspired to it.

  Bobby's boyfriend!  With full, and perhaps unlimited, carnal privileges.

  Matt shuddered with lust.  And a bit of embarrassment.

  What must Mr. and Mrs. Pipeuse think of him?

  Before he could imagine, everyone sat down at the table and tore into a
tuna noodle casserole.

  Mr. and Mrs. Pipeuse sat at either end of the table.  Bobby and Matt sat
to one side.  Close together.  Really close.

  During pleasant conversation about the weather, the local baseball team,
upcoming elections and the price of gasoline, Bobby snuggled with a
semi-embarrassed Matt.  Even pouting for a kiss now and then.  Which Matt
was powerless to resist.

  At 6:30, supper was finished and Mrs. Pipeuse began to clear the table.
Matt was very hopeful that he would be upstairs fucking Bobby again in
short order.

  Almost.

  "Daddy wants to talk to you, Matt," Bobby said.  "In private.  Mom and I
will do the dishes."

  Matt was scared.  Would Mr. Pipeuse smack Matt around or something?  Or
worse, try to "molest" him?

  Neither.

  "Matt," Mr. Pipeuse said, "you're a lucky young man.  Bobby is the
prettiest boy on earth.  And his friend Rickey is just a smidge behind."

  Matt nodded.  It was true.

  Mt. Pipeuse went on.  "Bobby's a delicate flower who needs a boyfriend
who'll take care of him.  One who'll treat him special, not like some dirty
little secret.  You see, Matt, I know you and Bobby made love this
afternoon -- all afternoon -- am I right?"

  Matt knew there was no use in lying, so he didn't.  "Yes, sir.  It was
wonderful."

  Mr. Pipeuse smiled.  "I know.  I mean, I'm sure it was.  Matt, this
afternoon and later tonight, they were what you might call a `free sample'
of Bobby.  Starting tomorrow, there are rules."

  Rules?  Matt winced. "What rules?"

  Mr. Pipeuse answered.  "You have to treat him just the way you would
treat a girlfriend.  Introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend.  Tell
people the two of you are `dating.'  Open doors for Bobby.  Take him to
public places and show him off as your date.  Can you do all that?"

  Matt gulped.

  He'd have to admit to the world that he was dating a 12-year-old boy.  In
violation of just about everything.

  "Well, Matt, think about it.  Enjoy your evening and decide tomorrow.  I
think I know what you'll choose.  Now go ahead.  Bobby's in bed, naked,
waiting for you.  There are even clean sheets."

  Matt didn't do a lot of thinking that night.  But a lot of fucking.

  Matt was quite spent when he got home that night and went right to sleep.
The next morning he was back at his lifeguard post.

  Thinking.  Missing Bobby.

  At around 10:30, Bobby and Rickey arrived at the pool, as they usually
did.

  As usual, men's heads turned and their cocks stiffened.

  Matt looked at them, especially Bobby, with drooling lust.

  The boys waved at Matt, who was perched on his lifeguard post.

  They laid their towels on their chairs, then stripped off their tshirts
and shorts.

  Oh my!

  They were wearing bathing suits even briefer than usual.  How was that
possible?  Bobby's was even pink, for Pete's sake, and was so tiny that he
exposed pubic hair along the waistband and showed a good two inches of ass
crack.  Rickey's was yellow and even briefer.

  Oh my, oh my.

  Matt made his decision.

  Ten minutes later, Matt was on break.  He climbed down from his perch as
his friend Derek climbed up.  Lifeguard Debbie Deecup was walking by and he
called her over.  Then Matt scooted over to Bobby and asked him to join
Matt and the lifeguards at Matt's post.

  "Derek, Debbie, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend Bobby.  We're dating
and I'm half in love with him already.  Any questions?"

  Debbie stared at Bobby, then Matt.  Then she said, "That answers my
questions, actually.  I was wondering why you weren't trying to get me in
bed, suck my huge titties and fuck me like all these other mopes wanted to
do.  Now I know.  Good choice, by the way.  This one and his friend are hot
little pieces of ass."

  Debbie also thought to herself, now I have a project.  I'll make that
Matt come back to hetero land.  It'll be tough, but I'll do it.

  They all think that, don't they?

  Anyway, Matt braced for Derek's reaction.  Then he got it.

  "Holy crap, Matt.  You lucky dog.  I've been looking at those two all
summer.  And you got one.  Hey, Blondie, is your friend seeing anyone?"

  Well.  That went well.

  Bobby was so proud of Matt.  And so eager to tell Rickey that another
cute lifeguard was his for the asking.

  Bobby threw his nearly naked body against Matt's and kissed him tonguily.
In public.  In front of men who knew what image they would be masturbating
to when they got home.  Or to the pool men's room.

  Bobby was very happy.

  And so was Matt.  He wanted to pull Bobby's skimpy swimsuit down, throw
him on his back, lift his legs and fuck him right there.  They hadn't
fucked face-to-face yet, but Matt was planning to attempt it at their first
opportunity.

  Instead, they broke the kiss before something like that actually
happened.  Bobby asked, "When do you get off work?"

  "My shift ends at five."

  "Come to my house at six.  We'll have a quick supper at home and you can
take me to the movies.  A real date."

  Terror seized Matt again.  Taking a young boy to a movie on Saturday --
date night?  He breathed deeply and knew he could do it because the reward
was great -- Bobby.

  "One last thing, Matt," Bobby whispered.  "Wear dark-colored shorts and
no underpants."

  Huh?

  Bobby and Rickey tanned themselves for a while, waved at Matt and went
home.

  Leaving Matt to dream about his date with an angel.

  It was a good thing no one actually needed a lifeguard that afternoon.

  Matt got home at 5:15, scrubbed up, found navy blue shorts, which he
accessorized with a grey tshirt and boat shoes and informed his mother
about his plans.  "I have a date tonight, Mom.  The movies with a
new...friend.  Can I have my weekend curfew of 11 p.m. extended an hour,
please?"

  Mrs. Hardwood smiled.  "Of course, dear.  Enjoy yourself.  Mrs. Pipeuse
told me you and Bobby are an item now.  He's such a cute boy.  Treat him
nicely now, OK?  And yes, you can borrow the car."

  This was all going a lot more smoothly than Matt had anticipated.

  At 6 on the dot, Matt knocked at 123 Maple Street and was greeted by a
smiling Mr. and Mrs. Pipeuse.

  "Bobby told us what you did for him at the pool today, son," Mr. Pipeuse
said.  "You're a keeper.  Enjoy your date with Bobby tonight.  Bring him
straight home and you two can have playtime until your curfew.  Oh, I
barbecued some burgers for you boys.  Bobby's almost ready, but you can
start eating."

  Mr. Pipeuse called him "Son?"  Wow.

  Little did Matt know the duties Mr. Pipeuse expected of a son.

  Matt let himself be led to the kitchen, where he began eating a
well-cooked burger and potato salad when the kitchen was illuminated by
Bobby's arrival.

  Gollyorsky, he was beautiful!!

  And wearing dark-blue shorts so brief, he could almost see wisps of the
skin from his scrotum peeking out.  Proving that he, like Matt, was not
wearing underpants.

  His flimsy tank top and sandals, left little doubt of the boy's raw
sexuality. And Matt would be escorting him into the world that evening.

  Of course all that tension dissolved when Bobby, wearing a blinding
smile, glided across the room and kissed Matt full on the lips.  Tongues
were introduced and Matt wanted desperately to just take Bobby upstairs and
fuck him for six glorious hours.

  But no.

  Bobby broke the kiss and sat down to eat.  He was Mr. Chatterbox, asking
Matt about lifeguard training and his family and such.  The boys finished
their meal, put the dishes in the sink, thanked Bobby's parents and went to
Matt's 1984 AMC Gremlin.

  True to his promise, Matt held the door for Bobby.  He got in, they
buckled their seat belts and took off.  Bobby told Matt which movie theater
and picture he wanted.  They arrived there at 7:15 and got in the ticket
line.

  As far as Matt could tell, he was the only 16-year-old boy in the line
who was holding hands with a 12-year-old, sexily-dressed boy, who was
openly flirting with his date.

  Eyes on the prize, Matt told himself.

  There were stares -- half based in disgust, the other half based in lust.
But Matt ignored them.

  The boys skipped popcorn and went right to their seats, in the back row
of a quarter-filled theater.  There was a hetero, 20-something couple
several seats to their left, but the rest of the row was empty.

  Unsure about what his limits and Bobby's expectations were, Matt was
happy when the lights dimmed for the coming attractions.  The sooner they
could get out of there and back to Bobby's bedroom, the happier Matt would
be.

  When the theater was really dark and the feature began, Bobby leaned over
and whispered, "You can kiss me if you want to, Matt."

  Matt wanted to.  Badly!  But what if someone saw?

  Matt mentally shrugged, said "Fuck it" to himself, and dove in for a
tonguey kiss.

  Nourishment!

  What Matt was starved for.

  Bobby made pleased little grunts as they kissed, increasing their risk of
discovery.

  But Matt didn't care.

  Especially when Bobby slipped his hand up Matt's thigh and held the shaft
of Matt's stiff cock.

  So that's why I'm not wearing underpants, Matt thought.

  Then Matt thought, Bobby's not wearing underpants either.

  So he slid his hand along Bobby's thigh, up his shorts and began to
caress Bobby's cock as well.

  The boys kissed and stroked, panting and gasping so loudly that not only
the other couple in their row, but other people in forward rows were
turning their heads.

  Matt didn't care.  He skinned Bobby's cockhead sweetly as they kissed and
Bobby returned the favor.  Within five minutes, both boys grunted their way
through as silent an orgasm as they could endure.  Both filled their shorts
with sticky cream.

  Explaining the reasoning behind the dark shorts.

  Giving Matt another clue that Bobby had been through this before.

  Matt still didn't care.  He licked his fingers clean of Bobby's cum as he
watched Bobby do the same for him.

  At least 20 people were stealing glances at them.

  Matt licked the last creamy drops off his index finger, then asked Bobby,
"Time to go?"

  "Yes, please," Bobby said.  Then he giggled sweetly.

  The boys made their escape quickly through the rear door, so that Matt
could get Bobby home and enter his rear door.

  They weren't exactly undetected as they left.  They walked arm-in-arm and
trickles of cum ran down each boy's thighs.

  They didn't care.  They were in love and the world would have to deal
with that.

  The boys arrived at Bobby's home at 8:30 and they practically ran up the
stairs to Bobby's room.

  In microseconds they were both naked and kissing wildly.  Bobby broke the
kiss and said, "Please get me two warm, soapy washcloths.  We'll clean the
dried cum from each other's privates before we make some fresh creamies."

  Bobby was kind of a neatnik, you see.

  Anyway, the feel of a warm, soapy washcloth administered by one's lover
to one's private parts is a great stimulant.  By the time all was clean,
both boys were ready for action.

  Bobby lay on his back and lifted his knees, exposing his "pinkness" to
Matt's lustful gaze.

  "Please wash me `down there,' Matt," he asked.

  Matt ran rubbed the warm washcloth around Bobby's anus, then pushed it in
a bit with the tip of his finger.  Bobby's gasps told Matt he was doing it
well.

  Where was that lube again?  Oh yeah.  In every drawer.  Matt reached
for...

  "Would you lube me with your tongue, Matt?  Please?"

  Huh?

  Stick his tongue in there?

  People did that?

  Matt balked at the suggestion for a moment, then remembered that men eat
pussy.  That was gross too.  And Matt had already sucked Bobby's cock.
Which was what the boy peed from.

  Plus, how could he deny Bobby?

  Matt positioned Bobby so that he was at the end of the bed. Matt knelt in
a comfortable position and watched as Bobby lifted his legs, holding each
back-thigh, providing maximum anal access.

  Matt sighed, then tentatively licked Bobby's anus.  It tasted like
soaped-over skin.  Bobby gasped.  Matt knew he would have to do a bit more
excavation, but he paused a moment to savor the utter "sexual dirtiness" of
what he was about to do.

  Where sex is concerned, dirty is often best.

  Matt dug his tongue in a bit.  Bobby yelped softly, then almost purred as
Matt dug some more.

  Despite the pungent taste, Matt was enjoying the excavation.  He LOVED
giving Bobby pleasure.  And he loved the anticipation of what was to come
-- a full, face-to-face, kiss-as-you-push fucking.

  Bobby seemed to be enjoying himself as well.  A lot.

  When Matt had eaten his boy lover out for about 15 minutes, he abandoned
his archeology and began to use his tongue and lips on Bobby's scrotum,
which had been dangling there, teasing him the whole time he ate Bobby's
bottomhole.

  Bobby enjoyed the ball bath that followed the analingus so much that he
blew his creamies all over Matt's face.  The first time that had happened.

  Matt didn't mind.  The main event was at hand.

  Without even wiping his face, Matt scooted Bobby into a center-of-the-bed
position.  He mounted his lover, placing his cockhead at the entrance to
his love's hole.

  And he pushed.

  His cock slid in completely and sweetly.

  Matt worried for a moment that the position was uncomfortable for Bobby.

  It wasn't.

  In fact, Bobby adored being on his back, the man on top.  The man's full
weight on him.  Making him a helpless, powerless little sissy who could
only endure the man's wild lust.

  Bobby locked eyes with Matt and true love passed between them.  Bobby
adored Matt.  Not enough to stop fucking with his Daddy, of course.  Or
Rickey.  Or Mr. Fellato.  Or the other boys and men who occasionally
enjoyed his favors.

  But he loved Matt.  Certainly enough to lick his own cum off Matt's face
as they fucked.  Then kiss Matt deeply and passionately as they fell into a
delicious rhythm.

  When Matt came in Bobby's bottom, he couldn't help himself.

  "I love you, Bobby," he gasped out.

  "I love you too, Matt," Bobby said.

  All you need is love.


  [More adventures of Bobby and Rickey soon.  More about Rickey especially]

  I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com.

  Other stories on nifty:

  "The Little Prickpleaser" (gay incest)
  "Sweetyboys" (gay young friends)
  "Boarding-School Bedmates" (bisexual adult-youth, though it's quite gay)
  "After-School Stroke Club" (gay high school)
  "Pretty" (gay adult-youth)