Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2002 00:03:17 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: willow, chapter nine

This is a story involving teen/boy, adult/youth, male/male
graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If
you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where
you live, please stop now, and go read something else!
This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the
purpose of pleasurable reading. It's not meant to
encourage unsafe, unprotected sex, or to condone sex
with minors. These people aint real.

Feedback: javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Willow ~ chapter nine

by Biscuit


"You didn't really win him in a poker game," I
challenged Leon. He and I were alone on the bed,
Willow was taking a shower as he often did when
they got home from the flea market. Leon had
all of the pillows propped up behind him, a beer
in hand and his legs spread wide to get the flow
of air from the fan on his balls. Usually the
nights were cool enough, with the breeze off the
bay, but we'd headed into a long muggy stretch
where the damp air just collected on your skin
without cooling it. He reached down to give his
balls a loosening tug.

"Five card stud," he said, and winked at me. I
was naked, semi aroused just because I was there
and they were home; lying on my stomach next
to him, propped on my elbows. I'd been there, in
the cottage, waiting for them when they got home.
I was most nights, by then. I had my own key.

My mom had been at me to get some kind of job
for the summer and I finally did get one, as a prep
cook/helper at a restaurant not far from home.
Afternoons, for about four hours a day. Made my
mom happy, and gave me an added excuse to shrug
off friends who wondered where the fuck I
disappeared to all the time. I'd stop at home, get a
shower after work and head over to the cottage.
Usually, Willow and Leon got home not long after,
by seven.

Looking at me, Leon moved his beer from one
hand to the other and reached over to push my
hair behind my ear with a cold wet finger; it
tickled and I shivered. That mysterious thing
going on, a chill in one spot sending sparks to
the points of my nipples and making my cock
swell up harder. I swatted at his hand, to push it
away, but ended up holding it, like we'd arm
wrestled and I'd pinned it to the bed.

Embarrassing, to be holding Leon's hand, but I
liked the way it felt, so big and broad and solid.
But it seemed like a dumb, romantic thing to be
doing, and I pulled my hand away, pushing my
hair back, something that always needed doing.

Leon's size didn't bother me like it did when I
was smaller. It turned me on. I was far enough
from being a kid not to mind feeling like one
compared to him. And I didn't feel like I had to
be big to be important to Willow any more,
outmatched in a game I could never win.

Leon and games.

The infamous poker game. The reason Willow
couldn't say for sure, whether or not his Daddy
Oliver actually lost him in a do-or-die hand of
five card stud, is that the game went on so long
that he fell asleep on his pillow. When he woke
up, he was wrapped up in Leon's suit jacket, on
the big guy's lap in the van; Leon holding him
in one arm and driving one handed, speeding
north toward Georgia.

I still think Leon just swiped him when Oliver
turned his back. I guess I want it to be that way,
for him to have meant to take him, not just won
him in some stupid game.

But I didn't push him to change his story then.
He was tipping his beer up, pouring a long
stream of it down his throat and he'd cocked
his knee at me, letting his warm leg rest against
my back and side. I knew what I'd see when I
glanced back, his cock hard, lifting up between
his open thighs. It sent a rush through me, hard
into the mattress. God, I tried to imagine being
Willow, on the floor looking up at that thing
from under a table. I twisted around, under
the weight of his leg, to lie on my side and run
my hand down the inside of his thigh. His balls
were a big, warm handful, heat radiating from
under them.

Mine wasn't the only ass getting worked over
by Leon's big tool that summer. He was seeing
a guy who had his own drag show at one of the
clubs, downtown. Sugar, was what he called
himself on stage, for his Marilyn Monroe thing.
Out of drag, he just looked like a small blond
guy with kind of a pretty face. I didn't meet him.
Willow did, only once, but we checked out his
pictures in the display case in front of the club.
He really looked like her with all the make up on.
Leon never brought him to the cottage. He'd go
see him on the weekends, maybe spend a saturday
night with him if my mom gave the okay for me
to stay at the cottage with Willow. She wasn't
crazy about it. If she'd have known that Willow
and I were alone on those nights, she would have
shit.

I started massaging that solid pole of his, my
head dropping down on his chest, like I knew he
liked, to bite a little bit around the furry skin
surrounding his broad pink nipple.

"Ooh yeah, Tommy," he crooned to me, "you're
making Daddy Leon a happy man." Not a difficult
thing to do. A nibble here and there, some stroking,
and Leon was like an oversized teddy bear with a
big-ass hardon.

Unless he had in mind that he wanted to fuck, then
no amount of fooling around was enough; like a
current turned on that could only shut off if his
dick got the thing it wanted. But I didn't sense it
that night. He seemed lazy and content to be played
with. That's what I was doing when Willow came
out of the bathroom, smelling shower sweet and
wrapped in a towel. He got onto the bed on the
other side of Leon.

Strange to think how happy it made Willow to see
us like that. But it did make him happy. Anything
done for Leon made Willow happy. On the other
hand, like the old song, or saying goes: anything I
could do, he could do better. No contest.

He folded his legs under him looking like he had on
a skirt starting at his slim brown hips, and began to
guide my hand on Leon's dick, slowing it down and
moving my wrist. Then he bent forward and licked
at the swollen head, teasing him, making Leon reach
to get to his tongue.

"Bad, bad, baby," Leon laughed, thrusting up
through my hand to get at Willow's open mouth.
I'd stopped working on his tit, to watch Willow.
My cock was getting restless against Leon's thigh,
tremors of want running through me every time
he got a swirl of tongue around his cockhead from
Willow.

If there was anything that boy knew how to do, it
was tease. I was so focused on watching him, that I
jumped when Leon suddenly grabbed me under
the armpits. He dragged me up on his chest and
pulled my leg across him.

I ended up splayed over him with a mouthful of
beer tasting tongue, my cock mashed into his
furred stomach and a big finger plunging into my
ass. Oh God. He was working himself up to it and
it felt so good I couldn't hold still, even though I
knew it was making him hotter to put it in me. So
much for getting him off, using my hand. Willow
was making him crazy under me, like waking a
sleeping giant.

But that need building under me, infected me
like it always did, the hungry motions of his hips
lifting me up as his fingers worked into my ass,
where he wanted to be. He was fucking my mouth
with his tongue more than kissing me by the time
he was spreading my cheeks apart and Willow was
slathering my hole with lube. I was ready for him,
or as ready as anyone ever can be to have a thing
as big as Leon's cock, climbing up their bowels.

At least I was on top, his arms bracing my
shoulders to his chest as the boy who was his
baby, and my would-be Daddy Willow, helped
get him where he wanted to go. Willow kept me
both calm and aroused as I sweated my way on
to that monster. When he was all the way in, my
ass flush to his hot crotch, Leon rocked his hips
slowly, letting out a low rumble of appreciation.

"So fucking good, Tommy" he groaned, raking
his chin over my head. I may have grunted, I sure
as fuck couldn't talk. Being full of Leon's dick
made me feel like one pounding throb from my
ass to my navel. I could hardly tell where his dick
ended and mine began, somewhere at the base of
my balls; hot lead inside and out. When he started
fucking for real, his hands gripping my sides to
guide me and keep me from sliding off, thrusting
it in and out of me, my mouth dropped open and
I started panting like I was trying to give birth,
my eyes focused on Willow like he was my
fucking Lamaze coach.

Willow had his hands on my thighs, his cheeks
were flushed and his black eyes intent, watching
Leon's cock pump my ass.

The look on his face killed me, like he was seeing
something so good, something he wanted. It was
that look that reached into me and pulled the
trigger.

I heard myself sob like a baby as I shot off, I was
jerking on Leon's dick as the hot cream shot out of
me. That drove him nuts. He started slamming into
my ass as hard as he could. Thank God he was
under me and couldn't use the full force of those
hips. He'd have ripped up my guts for sure.

He got calmer, still hard, working himself slow in
my ass like he was wringing out every last drop of
spunk. His hands weren't gripping so tight by then,
stroking my sides like he wanted to soothe me. God
damn.

A session like that left me weak as a kitten and
tender as a pounded steak. But it was worth it,
overall. I'd come like crazy and I had both of
them fussing over me like afterwards, like I was
the beloved wife who'd just popped out twins. It
sure as hell felt like I had.


Though still a soldier in his own mind, Willow
had been softened by his years with Leon. He had
learned to play, at least a little. That summer was
a very rich one for us. For all three of us, really.
Unfortunately, it only made it harder when the
summer started to wind down toward fall.

Late August was torment, knowing they'd be
leaving soon. To this day I get a bad feeling when
the light changes at the end of summer, that rich
sun you get in late August.

Bad too, that my family knew it wasn't school
starting and summer ending that was tearing me
up. I had to endure their sympathy and helpful
suggestions on top of everything else. How could
I explain to my mom and my grandfather that
Leon and Willow weren't heading "home" for the
winter, to some place I could write to or visit?

Worse yet, this time I knew they were going
to California. There was a chance, Leon told me
straight out, that if they found things good out in
Oakland, they might not come back the next
summer.

"Gettin' old, Tommy," Leon said. He wasn't,
not really. Leon wasn't forty yet, but he wanted
to settle in someplace. That's what he claimed
anyway. "I can't be dragging my ass around
forever." He wasn't trying to torture me, though
he was. Just trying to let me know how things
stood.

For the first time, Willow dutifully wrote down
my address and said he would try to write to me
and let me know if they were coming or not.

Willow faced separation with the iron will of
a man who knows he indulged himself and is
braced to suffer the consequences. It was Willow
the soldier who said good-bye to me, telling me
sternly to work hard in school and have plenty
of girlfriends.

I cried for days, not a military bone in my body.

I did work hard in school. I did have girlfriends.
And in the spring I got a letter from Willow
saying that he and Leon were staying in Oakland
for the summer.

How I lived I can't say, except that I was young
and I had to somehow barrel my way through
time to get old enough to go after him. Like a
seed in my heart was the belief that one way or
another I'd get to be with him. A thousand
different fantasies of how I'd do it carried me
through that summer and my senior year of
high school.