Date: Tue, 7 Oct 2008 14:09:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: Sebastian Fforde <sebastianfforde@yahoo.com>
Subject: Smelly Sneakers for Skyler

Smelly Sneakers for Skyler

Copyright 2008 Sebastian Fforde

(Bb, oral, feet, sneakers)

This story is completely fiction. Well, most of it is, anyway. If you
aren't interested in reading a sexually explicit story about a boy with a
sneaker fetish, then you can stop right now. But if you ARE interested,
then read on.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

***

I really like smelly boy feet. Okay, I really LOVE smelly boy feet! I love
smelly boy feet, socks and sneakers! There I said it. You probably think
I'm weird now, but I'm going to tell the story anyway.

I knew I liked feet before I knew I liked other boys and before I knew what
sex was. It all started when I was really little. My Uncle Jerry used to
babysit me. I guess he must have been in high school at the time. I
remember there was a lot of rough-housing. We wrestled together a lot, and
sometimes for fun he used to `torture' me by tying me up and tickling me.

I always pretended to struggle, but secretly I loved the feeling of this
older boy taking control over me. I loved the feeling of being helpless,
tied up and teased by Uncle Jerry.

One afternoon Uncle Jerry had me wrapped up on the floor like a mummy in a
blanket. Only my head and feet were sticking out. He was sitting on the
sofa with his feet near my face. He tickled my bare feet until I begged him
to stop. Then he did something that surprised me. He took off his socks and
began to rub his smelly teen feet in my face.

"Smell my feet, Skyler! Yeah, smell `em!"

I was used to Uncle Jerry's style of play, so I didn't mind his feet in my
face at all. It was better than him farting in my face, which was another
thing he used to do to me when I was tied up. So I sniffed Uncle Jerry's
sweaty feet without complaining.

"How do my feet smell, Skyler? You like that?"

"They're stinky. You should clean your feet."

"Ha-ha! Maybe YOU clean my feet!"

"I can't clean your feet. I'm all tied up!"

"Of course you can clean my feet."

"No I can't. I can't do anything but smell your stinky feet!"

"How does Tigger clean herself?"

Tigger was the family cat. I thought for a moment, but didn't have an
answer. "I dunno."

"Think, Skyler. How does Tigger clean herself?"

"She licks herself."

"She uses her tongue. Okay, Skyler, lick my smelly feet clean like a cat!"

As always, I had to at least pretend to struggle.

"No!"

Uncle Jerry put both feet on my face. "I'm gonna suffocate you with my
stinky feet on your face unless you start licking them clean!"

I opened my mouth and began stroking the soles of his feet with my tongue,
savoring the salty taste.

"Good boy. Now purr like a cat."

I started to purr as I licked my uncle's soles. He moved his feet around on
my face so that I could lick every inch of each foot. Then he stuck his
toes in my mouth and wiggled them around. That's when I got my very first
woody.

I never told anyone that. The first time I ever got a hard-on was when I
was tied up in a blanket, sucking my uncle's toes. Kind of weird, isn't it?

Soon foot play became an important part of the babysitting experience with
Uncle Jerry. Usually he'd tie me up and put his feet on my face, but
sometimes he would gag me with a dirty sweat sock or make me sniff his
smelly sneaker. If he didn't tie me I'd have to give him foot rubs that
would always end with me licking all the dirt out from between his toes. I
had a raging hard-on every time I did it.

The funny thing is that we never went further than the feet. When I look
back on our little games, it's so obvious to me that there was something
sexual happening between us, but I was too young to understand what was
going on. And I guess he was uncomfortable with going as far as he really
wanted to go.

Uncle Jerry is in the Coast Guard now, and I rarely get to see him
anymore. And when I do, it's at family gatherings where we don't have the
privacy to resume our favorite games. And besides, he's engaged to be
married and I don't think he's interested in me in that way anymore.

So I guess that's what started it for me. I crave the smell of feet, socks
and sneakers. Another confession – I have a secret stash of my friends'
smelly socks in Ziploc bags under my bed. I always try to steal a pair or
two whenever I go over one of my friend's houses.

***

I was sitting in the school cafeteria one day with my friend Marten. Marten
was an excellent student, but it was clear from the way he was dressed that
his family couldn't afford to buy him new clothing. Especially not new
sneakers. Marten wore the nastiest, most ripped-up pair of Reeboks I had
ever seen. I had secretly been trying to find a way to get a hold of those
sneakers for weeks, but the timing never was right.

Marten was going on and on about his academic aspirations. I wasn't exactly
paying attention to what he was saying. I just nodded to whatever he was
saying.

"You gotta think about all this stuff, Skyler. Volunteering,
extracurricular stuff. It looks great on an application. You gotta start
thinking about where you want to go to high school. A good high school
means a better chance of getting into a good college. Skyler, why are you
staring at my sneakers?"

"Huh?"

"You're staring at my sneakers. What's wrong with them?"

Nothing was wrong with them, in my opinion. They were just perfect! For the
first time I noticed how foul and nasty Marten's sneakers were, I wanted to
take them off his feet and smell them. I was starting to get aroused
sitting next to Marten and looking at his sneakers.

"Nothing. They're just cool."

"They're not cool. They're ripped to shreds. I wish I could get a new
pair. Now as I was saying, Skyler, your essay in English class was really
good. I think you're a good writer, and you're obviously very
intelligent. But I don't think you're making good use of the brains that
God gave you. Hanging around with the wrong people. Have you thought about
where you're going to be going to high school?"

I shrugged. "Central, I guess."

"I think you would do a lot better in a private school. Have you ever heard
of Ramsbottom Academy for Boys?"

"No."

"Well, next year I'm applying to Ramsbottom. It's very prestigious. They
don't take just anybody. My uncle Francis went there, and he's going to
write me a letter of recommendation. You might want to consider applying,
too. I hear it's a great place to make important connections."

Then, almost without warning, Marten got angry. "You're judging me, aren't
you?!" he shouted.

"What the hell do you mean? I'm not judging you! I'm just listening."

"You are too! You keep looking at my beat-up old sneakers! It's not my
fault my parents can't afford to get me new ones!" Marten sounded like he
was going to cry.

"Marten, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad about your
sneakers!" I felt bad for the boy, but I was also relieved. I was glad he
didn't see the hard-on that his filthy sneakers were giving me. "It's
okay." I tried to comfort him.

"That's why I want to get out of this fucking town!" Marten shouted, with
tears in his eyes. "I just want to get away! That's why I need to get the
scholarship to Ramsbottom!"

Marten had been encouraging me to try to get better grades, and kept
pushing the idea of applying to Ramsbottom on me. I started to take the
idea seriously.

Marten would walk home from school with me and we would go to his house and
study together. I would also listen to Marten talk about his dreams of
attending Ramsbottom. I also wanted to go to Ramsbottom, he made it sound
like such a great place.

When Marten's birthday came around, I had a special present for him. Marten
had still been wearing his wrecked Reeboks, and I could tell they were
getting smellier than ever. I discreetly found out what Marten's shoe size
was (size 8, in case you're wondering). I had finally saved up my allowance
for a month to buy him a new pair of Nikes.

I gave them to Marten when he met me to walk home with him after school. He
was stunned when he saw the new sneakers. "I don't know what to say,
Skyler! You shouldn't have! I'm so glad I have a friend like you!" He gave
me a big hug.

"Try them on!" I said, excited.

"Oh, thank you!" He leaned up against a telephone pole and took off his old
Reeboks. "Boy, will I be glad to get rid of those ugly old things! I never
want to see them again!" Delighted, Marten tested out his new Nikes.

I picked up his smelly old pair that I had been coveting for so long. "Hey,
gimme those! There's a garbage can on the street corner. I'm gonna throw
them away right now!"

I wouldn't let his sneakers go. "That's okay; I'll take care of them for
you."

Maartin gave me a suspicious look. "What the hell are you going to do with
them? They're ruined. Just throw them away."

"Don't worry, Maartin. I said I'll take care of them," I said.

"What are you going to do with them? They're practically unwearable."

"I dunno. Maybe donate them to charity. Just because you don't want them
doesn't mean that someone else might not be thrilled to have them."

"You know what, Skyler? You're really kind and thoughtful. Always thinking
about people less fortunate than yourself. That's what I like about you."

And that's how I finally got my hands on Marten's sneakers.

***

Marten's sneakers smelled heavenly. I immediately took them home and locked
myself in my bedroom with them. I got onto my bed and put his sneakers on
my pillow. I spent a long time sniffing the insides before I began licking
them, first on the outside and then on the inside, sucking Marten's sweat
out from the worn-out fabric. I must have spent about a half an hour
savoring his sneakers before I even touched myself. I was about ready to
cum by the time I unzipped my pants. I jacked myself off while huffing a
smelly sneaker. It only took a few quick strokes before I shot my load all
over my belly.

I used Marten's smelly sneakers as a masturbation aid almost every
night. They still remained smelly months after I had taken them from him.

***

I was pretty excited about the news. Footsies Shoe Store was sponsoring a
smelly sneaker contest at Captain B.A. Northrup Middle School.  The first
prize was $500 and a new pair of sneakers from Footsies. I found myself
getting hard just thinking about it.

I went home and jacked off while sniffing the Marten's rotten
sneakers. While I was jacking off I kept thinking about how fun it would be
to be a judge at the sneaker contest. Think of all the sneakers I could be
sniffing!

I knew exactly what I was going to do – enter Marten's sneakers as my
own and try to win the prize.

It was held on a Saturday, and I had to take a bus into Bridgewood, the
neighboring town where the contest was being held. I felt a secret thrill
to be wearing Marten's rotten sneakers on my own feet. I knew he would be
pissed off if he ever found out. But then, how could I explain my secret
desires to Marten?

There weren't a whole lot of people in the Captain B.A. Northrup Middle
School cafeteria to see the contest, but they did have a local TV crew
there doing a `human interest' story to put on the news that night. They
were interviewing the contestants. Most of the contestants were elementary
school kids, but a few were high school aged, maybe even college kids. They
all had nice, worn-out sneakers.

The sneakers were tagged and placed in a row on a table. Several times I
made it a point to nonchalantly pass by the sneaker table and try to get a
whiff. There were too many people milling around, so I couldn't do what I
really wanted to do, which was to shove my nose into every boy's sneaker on
the table. I could tell the boys' sneakers from the girls' sneakers pretty
easily by the color and style. I avoided the girls' sneakers, which I had
no interest in.

There were definitely some champion rotten sneakers on that table. I
inhaled deeply as others around me coughed and gagged.

The announcer was doing some theatrics for the camera. After about fifteen
minutes, the judges finally came on stage and inspected the sneakers,
carefully sniffing them and taking notes like they were professional wine
tasters. Then they announced the finalist of the junior division, for kids
5 to 16 years old.

The junior finalist was an eight year old skater kid named Braeden
Keller. God, the boy was cute! Braeden's hair was dyed a whimsical shade of
green, which added nicely to his skater style. I thought it was cute to see
the kid get all excited, high-fiving his parents, jumping up and down and
running to the table to get his trophy. The senior division finalist, for
anyone 17 and up, went to a sweaty jogger dude. Marten's sneakers, which I
had registered as my own, received a respectable Honorable Mention, but no
prize.

Then the sneakers of the two finalists were placed side by side. The judges
took about five minutes to decide who would be the champion.

"The judges have made a decision!" The announcer announced. "The winner,
the champion with the foulest footwear is - eight year old Braeden Keller!"

Little Braeden was bouncing up and down again, and his family and
classmates crowded around him and cheered. After the whole thing was over a
small crowd formed around Braeden as a local TV reporter interviewed him
for the nightly news. I listened in as well.

"Braeden, you've been winning smelly sneaker awards all over the country
for the past two years. So tell us, Braeden, what's your secret?"

"I just keep wearin' em. Sometimes I wear em with socks, but most of the
time I wear em without. And I never wash my feet. I wear the same socks
until they fall apart."

What an amazing kid, I thought. I had admired his sneakers from afar and
would have liked to have had an opportunity to smell his feet up close. I
would have especially loved to have had an opportunity to get my hands on
that kid's socks. Little did I know how lucky I would be.

***

I was on my way to meet Marten at the library one Saturday afternoon. It
was a beautiful day, and the weather was finally getting nicer. A lot of
people were out on the street and in the park, enjoying the sun. Also, a
lot of the boys had started wearing sandals and flip-flops. I found myself
checking out the toes of every boy that passed me by.

The library was on the other side of the park, and I decided to cut through
the park to get there. I was on one of the footpaths when I saw the most
handsome boy I had ever seen, and yes, he was wearing flip-flops. My eyes
were riveted, and I could feel my heart melting. Was this love at first
sight? The boy's feet were perfectly formed, but the toenails were nice and
dirty. I wanted more than ever to be the one to clean those toenails for
him. I found myself staring longingly at him, hoping that he would notice
me and maybe our eyes would meet as he walked past me.

"Hey, look out!" a little kid on a skateboard squealed as he tried to get
out of my way. I was so entranced by my prince charming that I didn't see
the pint-sized skater coming straight at me. I jumped to the left just as
he had swerved to the left to avoid me. The collision was inevitable. The
skateboard had shot out from under him and we collapsed together into a
tangled heap.

I tried to pull myself from the wreckage and looked around frantically to
see if my prince charming was still nearby. I was angry at myself for being
such a klutz and embarrassing myself in front of this sexy boy. But alas,
my dream boy had disappeared. Damn!

Then I noticed the kid that had run into me. He had fallen pretty hard and
lay face-down in the dirt. He looked seriously banged up. He was on top of
his skateboard, and his legs and feet stuck out in the air. And his right
sneaker was only an inch from my nose.

I recognized the kid. Let's see – green hair, a pair of really wretched
Vans that were coming apart and could be smelled from 6 feet away. Those
sneakers belonged to none other than Braeden Keller, the winner of the
Footsies Smelly Sneaker Contest. The sole was coming apart and I could see
Braeden's cute little toes peeking at me through his ripped sneaker. And
the smell was awesome!

"Are you okay?" I asked Braeden as I gently picked him up off the
ground. He was crying.

"I'm really sorry. I should have been looking where I was going." I saw
that his forehead was bleeding and his elbows and knees were scraped pretty
raw, too.

Even though Braeden was pretty badly hurt, he was too proud to admit any
pain. "I'm fine!"

I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and started to wipe the blood off
of his forehead. "I said I'm fine!" he insisted.

"I'm just trying to help. It was my fault because I wasn't paying
attention, and I feel bad you got hurt."

Braeden softened up a little bit. "Thanks. You're really nice. My mom's
gonna yell at me for getting blood all over my new shirt. Everyone always
yells at me for everything. I'm glad you didn't yell at me. My name's
Braeden. What's yours?"

"Skyler. Glad to meet you." I tried to think of some sort of ice-breaker to
start the conversation.  "Hey Braeden, I like your hair color. What kind of
dye do you use? I might want to try that some time."

"It's this special hair dye called Kool-Aid. I hear some people even try to
drink the stuff, but that sounds kinda crazy to me!"

I brought Braeden over to a water fountain and tried my best to wash the
blood and dirt off of him. He was very appreciative of my attention, and
asked me if I wanted to go back home with him. I gladly accepted,
forgetting all about Marten, who was still waiting for me at the library.

Braeden's mom was angry at him for getting into another skateboard
accident, but she was pleased when he told her how nice I was to him when I
cleaned out his cuts at the water fountain.

"Thank you for taking care of him, Skyler," she said. "Braeden means well,
but he's a menace on wheels. I've told him over and over to be careful, but
he never listens."

"Hey Skyler," Braeden said, tugging at my shirt. "Wanna go to my room and
play with my Wii?"

Play with Braeden's Wii? Sounded good to me! "Sure. Let's go!"

I liked being in Braeden's bedroom. The whole room smelled like his
feet. He had several large posters of Ryan Sheckler on his walls and a
shelf full of trophies. A few of the trophies were for skateboarding
tournaments, but most of them were from smelly sneaker contests from around
the country.

He was quite proud of his smelly sneaker trophies. "My mom says that it's
good to try to be the best at something, but she wishes I was best at
something else. I like my old Vans and won't wear any other pair. Problem
is I'm outgrowing `em. Look at the way my toes are coming out."

"I think you should wear your old Vans for as long as you like," I
encouraged him. "I think they're really awesome!"

"I'm glad you like them. That's so cool! A lot of kids don't want to hang
around me because of how my feet smell. I'm glad it don't bother you."

After our first chance meeting, I became pretty friendly with
Braeden. Every time I visited Braeden's house I was looking for a chance to
steal a pair of his stinky socks, but I never seemed to have the chance. On
my third visit, Braeden's parents were planning on going out to his
mother's high school reunion. His mother was fretting because the
babysitter cancelled at the last minute.

"Hey Skyler," she said, rummaging through her purse, "You seem very
responsible, and Braeden really likes you. I really appreciate your
kindness to him. I know it must be a burden to play with him when you would
probably rather hang out with kids your own age."

"It's not a burden at all, Mrs. Keller. Braeden's starting to be like the
little brother I never had. It's kind of nice the way he looks up to me."

"That's great, Skyler. I'm glad you feel that way, because I was just going
to ask you if you wouldn't mind babysitting him just for tonight. I'll pay
you what I would have given Cheryl if she had showed up tonight – five
bucks an hour. Is that okay with you?"

Getting paid to babysit the Junior Smelly Sneakers Champion? How could I
say no?

"Yeah, I can do that. What time will you be back?"

Braeden's dad was sitting in the car, honking the horn.

"Oh, around midnight or so. You two can help yourselves to whatever you
want in the fridge. And make sure Braeden's in bed by 10."

I enjoyed babysitting Braeden. We played with his Wii and watched
TV. Braeden was in bed at 10:05 and at 10:30 I peeked into his room to make
sure he was asleep.

His socks and sneakers were still on the floor where he had flung
them. Quietly, I crept into his room. He was still asleep. Good. I
carefully put a sock in each sneaker and picked the sneakers up off of the
floor. I had at least an hour before Braeden's parents would be home and I
was going to go into the bathroom and spend a little quality time with
Braeden's socks and sneakers.

I had a stiffy already. I could hardly control my excitement. I put a
sneaker to my nose and inhaled deeply. God, it was intense. I couldn't wait
to start jacking off.

"You could've just asked, ya know."

"Huh?" My heart was pounding. I had been caught!  I dropped the sneakers.

"If ya wanted to smell `em you coulda just asked." Braeden was sitting up
on the bed now. He looked really cute with his green hair all messed up.

"I-I-I just" I stammered.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Look, most people hate the smell of my feet. Most people. But a few people
love `em. Nobody in between. I used to think it was weird that some people
were really into my feet, but now I'm used to it."

"Y-y-you mean, other people like your smelly feet, too?" I was stunned.

Braeden dug around in the bookcase near the head of his bed. He pulled out
a large manila folder. It was filled with printouts from emails.

"Here," he said, handing the folder to me. "My fan mail."

He had fan mail? I read the first letter:

DEAR BRAEDEN:

MY NAME IS BOBBY AND I'M 11 YEARS OLD. I SAW YOUR PICTURE IN BOY'S LIFE
MAGAZINE IN THE STORY ABOUT THE SNEAKER CONTEST. I THINK YOU'RE WAY COOL!!!
YOUR SMELLY SNEAKERS ARE WAY COOL, TOO!! DO YOU LIKE SCOUTING? I AM A
WEBELOS NOW.

YOUR FRIEND,

BOBBY THEREMIN

PS. COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE ME BACK AND MAIL ME A PAIR OF YOUR SMELLY SOCKS?
THAT WOULD BE REALLY COOL!!!

Most of the other emails were something along the lines of the first
one. Usually a teenage boy would write that he saw Braeden on TV or in the
newspaper, and how he thought Braeden's smelly sneakers were `way cool',
and then ask if he could buy the sneakers or have a pair of socks.

I couldn't believe that Braeden had received so many fan letters. "Geez, do
you actually mail them your socks?" I asked, awestruck.

"No. I don't think my mom would let me. But I like to read the emails. I
never show any of them to my parents."

Then I got to one email that stopped me dead in my tracks. This one was
clearly written by a grown-up. It started out something like the other
emails, but as I read on the letter got more and more perverted:

AND AFTER I SUCK YOUR DICK I'M GOING TO THROW YOU ON THE BED, SPREAD YOUR
LEGS AND FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT WHILE YOU SHOVE YOUR NASTY LITTLE FEET INTO
MY MOUTH

The email went on like that for a few pages. While I thought the email was
very arousing, I was shocked that someone would actually write something
like that to such a little kid.

"Braeden, do you understand what this email means?" I asked him. I wanted
to find out how much or how little he actually understood about the content
of the email.

"Oh yeah, that guy wants to do sexing with me." Braeden said
matter-of-factly. "I think he's like a senator or something."

We had been sitting in the dark ever since Braeden caught me sniffing his
sneakers. I finally decided to turn a lamp on. It was more like a night
light, and after I turned it on a soft orange glow illuminated Braeden's
elfin face.

"Do you know a lot about `sexing', Braeden?" I asked.

"Of course. I know all about sexing. I learned about it from the Howard
Stern show."

"Okay, Braeden," I said, putting the emails back in the envelope. "Since
you've already caught me smelling your sneakers, I might as well ask. Can I
smell your feet?"

Braeden answered me by stretching his foot out and wiggling his toes in my
face.

"Thanks, Braeden. Can I lick them, too?"

"Yeah, lick `em!" He stretched out on the bed, getting more comfortable. I
climbed onto the bed with him. I picked up his left foot and began licking
between his toes. What a flavor! He had Marten beat by a mile! I was loving
every bit of Braeden's stinky little feet. He began to laugh and squirm and
thrash around wildly.

"Hey, that tickles!" He seemed to like it, though. I tickled his right foot
as I licked his left foot. Even though he begged me to stop, I could tell
that he found my attention to his feet to be very pleasurable. Braeden was
kicking and squirming so wildly that the bedsprings were squeaking as
loudly as if we really were doing `sexing', as he called it.

Then Braeden bolted upright in his bed. "Did you hear that?"

"No. What?"

"The car door. My parents are home!"

"You're not supposed to be awake."

"And you're not supposed to be keeping me awake."

***

I became Braeden's regular babysitter. Between doing homework with Maartin
and taking care of Braeden, I was very busy.

I was surprised to discover that Braeden liked my feet, too. It seemed that
Braeden and I shared some of the same experiences and feelings. Braeden had
discovered at a very early age that his dad's smelly feet gave him a
hard-on.

He didn't really understand what was happening and didn't realize it was a
sexual thing, but he knew he liked the smell, so he stopped washing his own
feet, and refused to wear any new sneakers. His dad had suggested that he
enter his sneakers in the Cub Scout Smelly Sneaker contest, and the rest
was history.

After I had been licking his feet for about two weeks, Braeden finally
asked me if he could lick my feet as well.

It's funny. I was so obsessed with Marten and Braeden's feet that it never
occurred to me that someone might like MY feet. So Braeden and I licked
each other's feet together.

"Skyler, don't wash these socks," he told me one day. "Your feet don't
smell enough. I want em smellier!" I was happy to oblige him.

One day I made the move I had been planning for weeks. Braeden lay on his
bed after I had just given him a relaxing foot rub, when I began gently
tugging on the zipper of his shorts.

I knew that `sexing' with Braeden was risky business, but I couldn't resist
when I saw how happy he looked stretched out on the bed after the foot
rub. I wanted to make him feel even happier.

"You gonna lick my dick too, Skyler?"

"If you don't mind."

"Okay." Braeden pulled down his underwear. His dick was tiny, and when it
got hard it was only about three inches long.

I was having a lot of fun sucking Braeden's dick. It was so tiny and so
cute. Braeden just lay on the bed, occasionally giggling and twitching with
pleasure. He was very ticklish. I don't think he had an orgasm that first
time I sucked him.

I was getting bolder. "Would you like to suck mine now, Braeden?"

"Okay."

I stood up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled out my hard cock. I motioned for
Braeden to get on his knees in front of me.

"Wow! Your thing is really big!" Braeden exclaimed.

I didn't think my thing was very big. It wasn't, compared to some of the
other guys' dicks I had seen. But to Braeden my cock must have seemed
huge. But the boy was still willing to get on his knees and put it in his
mouth, and I was happy about that.

"Now we're really doing sexing!" He laughed.

Braeden gripped the shaft with his little hand and put my cockhead in his
mouth. He worked on my dick for about a minute when I had an idea.

"Hey Braeden?"

"Yeah?" he said, taking his lips off my cock.

"You know what would be really cool? If you put on your Cub Scout uniform
and then sucked my dick."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. It'd just be cute, that's all."

"You mean it'd be good for sexing?"

"Yeah. It'd be really sexy!"

"Okay. I'm gonna go put it on." Braeden ran off to his closet to change
into his Scout uniform. While I waited for him I took a moment to sniff his
socks, which he had left on the floor.

When Braeden came back he was in full Cub Scout regalia, hat, neckerchief
and merit badges included. I was so excited! He had even put his filthy
sneakers back on, this time without the socks. Not only did he look great,
but he smelled great, too!

I wished I had a picture of Braeden on his knees before me in his Scout
uniform.

"Hey Skyler, the uniform must really be good for sexing! I think your dick
got a little bigger after I put it on!" Then he started bobbing down on my
cock. He put his hat on backwards so the brim wouldn't get in the way as
when he was giving me head.

It was the first time anyone had ever given me a blowjob. I discovered that
if you're only used to jacking off, it takes a while to get used to the
sensations of any other type of sexual act. Even though I was hard as a
rock, and having Braeden suck me off was incredibly sexy, I found his
sucking to be quite clumsy and slow. I tried to get him to go faster, but
he couldn't figure out how to do it exactly the way I liked. We were both
too inexperienced and clumsy.

I pulled my dick out of Braeden's mouth and began jacking myself off.

"Are you gonna sperm now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Pretty soon."

Braeden could see how I was tensing up, and he had an idea of what was
going to happen. Just as I was about to cum Braeden surprised me by shoving
my dickhead into his mouth right at the critical moment. I shot my load
into the Cub Scout's mouth. He swallowed.

"I can't believe you swallowed my sperm, Braeden!"

Braeden looked confused. "You mean I wasn't supposed to?"

"Well, I'm happy you did. Yeah, I guess you're supposed to. I always do. I
just thought you might not want to. A lot of people don't like it."

"It was okay."

Braeden was still on his knees in front of me. His Cub Scout cap had fallen
off while he was blowing me. Affectionately, I ran my fingers through
Braeden's Kool-Aid green hair and patted him on the head. Then I noticed
there was a big gob of cum on Braeden's Cub Scout shirt. "You got a little
on you there," I pointed.

"Oh, shit!" It was the first time I heard Braeden swear. "I gotta wear this
to a pack meeting tomorrow night! My mom will yell at me if I ask her to
wash it again!" He used his finger to get the stray drops of cum off his
shirt, and then he licked it off his finger. I thought that was incredibly
hot. Then he untucked his shirt and tried sucking the jizz off the fabric.

"Let's go into the bathroom and see if we can get thas spot out. Your
mother will never know."

"I'm glad you're my babysitter, Skyler. Can we do more sexing tomorrow?"

The End

***

Did you enjoy my story? I hope you did. If you liked this story, you might
want to check out some of my other stories on Nifty: Tanner's Talent in the
Adult/Youth section, Jonathan Casts a Spell in the Highschool section, and
Where's Willy? in the Encounters section. If you want to get to know me a
little better, feel free to email or chat with me. My Yahoo ID is
sebastianfforde.