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Archive name: stick.txt (MM, FM, inc, bi, reluc, 1st)
Authors name: Anonymous Author (address withheld)
Story title : Stickshift Memories 

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Stickshift Memories 
by Anonymous Author (address withheld)

***

A young man reminisces about his earliest sexual 
exploits. (Mm, Fm, inc, bi, reluc, 1st, oral, mast)

***

It was one-thirty a.m. Even in my heavy winter coat, my 
Eagles cap, my heavy woolen mittens and my insulated 
boots, I was freezing. It was twenty degrees in Boston, 
the weatherman had said, so it was probably ten degrees 
here. It sure felt like it.

"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," I chattered into the frigid air. 
This was insane.

Insane, yes, but so much fun.

"You ready, Matthew?" I asked. 

Matthew was ready. 

I unbuttoned my shirt, took it off, folded it up and 
lay it on the back seat of the car. Then I looked 
around in the darkness. "You need to find a safer place 
to do this," I told myself. 

A safer place to fuck yourself in the ass with a stick 
shift knob? Was there such a place?

I leaned back against the seat and undid the top of my 
jeans. 

"You are crazy," I told myself again.

I took off my gloves, looked around outside again, saw 
nothing, put my hand down the front of my jeans and 
brought out my penis. I began to masturbate. It wasn't 
very hard but it got that way fast enough. My cock 
likes cold air and so do my balls. It makes them 
shrivel up tight in their little sack, which feels 
good. 

There's gonna be plenty of cold for them tonight, I 
thought to myself. 

I was doing this because I had read on the Internet 
that taking off your clothes in sub-zero weather and 
fucking a girl gave you an incredible orgasm. It had 
something to do with the loss of skin temperature and 
the shivering you did. You basically shook yourself 
through your orgasm, and it wouldn't stop. I didn't 
know if that was true, but I intended to find out.

Suddenly, I saw headlights. I stopped moving. I almost 
stopped breathing. I began to put myself away. Then I 
said to myself: What for? 

The brush and the tall bushes along the edge of my 
aunt's front yard blocked out any view from the road. 
They couldn't see me unless they pulled into the 
driveway, and who would do that?

The car or truck or whatever it was got closer. It was 
a four-by-four, I thought, a truck or an SUV. Whatever 
it was, I couldn't see it any better than the driver 
could see me. He zoomed on past the driveway.

"Good riddance," I said. 

Aunt Dee had gotten a whole lot worse during the two 
days Mom was back home, and we had had to fly back up 
here again. So far, there had been no chance to talk. 
That was okay with me, because I was worried about that 
talk. (You haven't missed anything here. Just keep 
reading and you'll understand.)

"Do it and get back inside," I told myself. "Now."

I touched the cold hard rubber of the shifter knob. I 
felt along the length of the cold steel shaft below it, 
down to where it disappeared into the rubber boot. This 
was so nuts. I told myself that I was nuts.

"So what?" I answered back. "I've been nuts all my 
life. What does a little more deviant behavior matter?"

********

I first sucked cock when I ten and a half years old. I 
would have done it before that, but prior to ten I just 
didn't know. I didn't even see my first fully erect 
cock until a month or so before I sucked Tommy Payne, 
in an e-mail ad, and I didn't even know what it was. It 
had as much in common with my two inch little prick as 
a watermelon does to a grape. 

Tommy Payne was my nextdoor neighbor. He was fourteen 
years old. 

I saw him out back one day, mowing the grass, wearing 
only a pair of baggy, knee-length shorts over his blue 
and red boxer shorts. I wondered how big he was. I 
wondered if all penises start out small and end up 
getting big from excitement. Or were they always that 
big on adults? So, getting on my shoes and my t-shirt, 
I went out back to find out.

"Hey, Tommy!" I called across the chain link fence. He 
had a Walkman on and couldn't hear me. I waited until 
he cut back in my direction again, and then waved my 
arm.

"Hey, Junior!" he yelled. His Walkman had to be really 
cranked up, I thought, because he yelled out really 
loud. Guiding the power mower over to the fence, he 
stopped and let me hi-five his hand. "What's going on?" 
he said. 

So I told him.

Tommy had babysat me and my little brother until only 
the year before. Blinking at me slowly, he said, 
"What?"

"I'm really, really curious," I told him. "Please?"

"Matthew--" He looked around the two back yards. His 
face was very flushed. "You--you can't..." he started 
to say, then trailed off.

"Why not?" I insisted.

"Because."

It dawned on me that maybe asking to see his cock get 
big was not such a good idea. That maybe he mistook my 
natural curiosity for something else. So I said never 
mind.

"No, wait," he said, still looking around the two back 
yards. His voice was very low. "If I do it, Junior, let 
you watch me get big, you can never tell anyone, okay?"

"Sure," I said. It wasn't something I'd want to discuss 
anyway. I knew about queers. 

"Okay, then," he said. "Are your parents home?"

I shook my head. Mom was out with little Joey at the 
doctor's and Dad was at work. 

"Come on then," he said, and jumped the fence.

We went inside and he closed and locked the back door. 
He was jumpy and breathing hard, moving in short jerky 
steps. I began to think I had made a big mistake here. 
But, taking me by the arm, he guided me through the 
kitchen and over to the stairway. He stood there, 
looking both up and down.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, then he quickly added: "I just 
don't want to get caught in your bedroom, that's all. 
But being in the basement might be even worse."

"Worse for what?" I questioned.

"Worse to explain to your mom," he said.

Finally, he dragged me on down the stairs to the 
basement, left me in the middle of the room, went over 
and closed the patio drapes, then came back to me 
again. He was still breathing hard.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "You ready?"

I bobbed my head. 

Watching me closely, he unzipped his fly and unbuttoned 
his shorts. They fell off his hips. Still watching me 
closely, he pulled aside the flap on his boxer shorts 
and I could see his pubic hair and his cock. He pulled 
himself through the flap. He was very small.

Seeing my disappointment, he laughed at me, then began 
to finger his penis. It began to grow very quickly. 
"You won't be disappointed," he said. "You'll get what 
you wanted."

I got a lot more than I wanted.

Stroking himself, and fingering his balls through the 
open flap, Tommy made himself get big. His penis went 
from two inches long, and limp and wrinkled, to a 
whopping six inches. Well, whopping to me. 

"You like?" he asked.

I said that I did. I was too engrossed in his 
transformation to really understand what he meant. 

Like the cock in the e-mail ad, his shaft was round and 
thick and had big veins. Blood vessels coursed up and 
down its length like blue bolts of lightning. The head 
was not big and bulbous like the one in the e-mail ad 
(it reminded me of a dinosaur's head, that e-mail cock, 
a triceratops head or something), but very small. The 
color was a swollen red. 

"Wanna hold it?" he asked.

Surprised, I looked at his face. His mouth was open and 
he was breathing through it. His eyes were narrowed and 
he licked his lips.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Exactly what I said. Maybe stroke it too?"

"Stroke it?" I asked. The thought of his swollen penis 
gripped in my hand broke out gooseflesh on my chest and 
arms. "I don't know," I said slowly.

"Go ahead. It'll be okay. You'll like it."

I nodded and exchanged my hand on his cock for his. It 
was a very strange feeling. The muscles in the shaft 
reacted to my grip, flexed, seemed to grow harder, then 
relaxed again. (Unless you've held another guy's cock 
in your hand, you won't understand this. They have a 
life of their own.) I began to stroke him and he began 
to moan. He stood with his hands on his hips, hips 
thrust forward, his lips pursed and his eyes closed. 
His penis reacted to my every movement.

"Goddammit, Matthew," he said. "this is so good."

"Has anyone ever done this before?" I asked.

"Hell, no!" he answered. "Not until now!"

I knew all about coming by then, and knew that Tommy 
would come, if I kept on stroking his cock. His 
agitation was getting worse by the moment and I 
wondered what I'd do when he did. "Tommy?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Don't come on me, okay?"

And that's when he came. 

Grabbing me by the head, he forced me down and right 
onto his cock. The spurting caught me on my chest and 
my shoulder, my neck and chin, and then on my mouth. 
Then he was in my mouth and still spurting his come and 
I was gaging on it.

"Awwwwyyyyyyy!" I choked out, but he just held me where 
I was and kept shooting his sperm into my mouth. It 
went all over my tongue and into the back of my mouth, 
and even though I fought against it, I had to swallow 
some. 

"Oh, God!" he kept going. "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" 

The intensity of his orgasm seemed to increase with 
every spurt, not diminish. I counted three times where 
he seemed to orgasm again. Then he was finally done and 
my mouth was full of his sperm, and so was my stomach. 
Or at least it felt that way.

He let go of me and staggered backward, laughing, hit 
the end of the couch and sat down hard on the arm. His 
still-erect cock bobbed up and down and the head of it 
was wet with his come. He continued to laugh while I 
got up and spit the last of him out in the toilet. 

I considered sticking my fingers down my throat and 
throwing up the rest of him, but I couldn't stand the 
thought of the stuff coming out my nose. Then I told 
him to get out. I screamed at him to get out and I 
began to cry, but the crying was a defense, to get him 
scared and make him leave because I was afraid he'd do 
it to me again. He never did though.

***

My second time was with Mr. Evans, a friend of my 
dad's. I was eleven and a half years old. It was the 
middle of summer vacation and Dad and Mr. Evans's were 
at a party. Dad and Mr. Evans's had too much to drink 
and Mom had to go there and drive them home. 

After they got back, even though my mom was mad as hell 
at my dad, the three of them started drinking and got 
really drunk together, along with Mr. Dorsey, our 
nextdoor neighbor on the other side. It was the Fourth 
of July. 

"Hey, Mr. Evans," I said. It was almost one a.m. and I 
had got up to pee. Mr. Evans was staggering out of the 
bathroom door, a big grin on his face, laughing 
happily. He ruffled my hair.

"Hey there, Matthew old boy. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," I said.

Mr. Evans was a school teacher like my dad, in the same 
school. They both taught English language, but Mr. 
Evans's taught it as a second language. Mr. Evans spoke 
fluent Spanish and French and Farsi. I don't think he 
knew his fly was open.

"You doing good in school?" he asked, waving that right 
off. "Forget it," he said. "I'll ask you that again in 
September. In the meantime, what are you doing to keep 
busy?"

I told him nothing much. I told him that summer camp 
started in a week and I'd probably go. That the rec 
center had baseball in the afternoons and that on the 
weekends I got to hang out with my dad, go to the 
Phillie's games, stuff like that. What I didn't tell 
him was that I wanted to suck his cock.

In the year and a half since Tommy had come in my 
mouth, I had thought of little else. I beat my meat at 
least once a day, loving it when I came, if I could 
come, which I couldn't always. I had learned to bypass 
the baby-filters Dad had installed on my computer, and 
surfed the Internet for sex. Lately, I had become 
addicted to the Usenet Newsgroups. Especially one 
called--well, never mind what it was called.

I told Mr. Evans good night, knowing I'd see him later 
on, and went into the bathroom. My penis was very hard. 
By then, I was four inches long when fully erect, and 
finally beginning to thicken. I couldn't wait until my 
thirteenth birthday, when the hormones would kick in, 
and I'd get hair and bigger balls. Until then, there 
was the good old Internet... and Mr. Evans.

While I waited for the grownups to give up and go to 
bed, I entertained myself. Laying in the bed on my 
back, I slid my pajama bottoms off, then my underwear, 
grabbed my big toes in my left hand and pulled my legs 
up over my head. I then pencil-fucked myself, smiling 
blithely in the dark, loving the feel of the narrow 
shaft clenched in my anus and the eraser tip as it 
fingered my rectal walls. I'd use my muscles to push 
the pencil out, and luxuriously suck it clean.

Thank God for mouthwash.

At three a.m. the house was finally quiet. Mr. Evans 
was downstairs, sacked out on the basement couch. 
Getting out of bed, I slipped down the hall and made my 
way stealthily down the three flights of steps to the 
basement. There, wrapped in a sheet and a light blanket 
on the couch, was Mr. Evans.

Standing still for almost five minutes, listening for 
any upstairs movement, I finally removed my clothes. 

You, Mr. Evans, I thought, are in for a surprise. 

I dropped to my knees, gently lifted a corner of the 
sheet, extricated it from Mr. Evans's grip, and slid 
awkwardly in beside him. He stirred but did not wake 
up.

Jesus, I thought. What do I do now?

Mr. Evans wore a white t-shirt and a pair of boxer 
shorts. Putting my hand on the front of his shorts, I 
located the edge of the flap, and slipped my hand 
inside. I touched his scrotum and he stirred and moaned 
softly. 

Mr. Evans was drunk and he was asleep. I get hardons 
when I sleep, due to the dreams I have, or having to go 
piss. Mr. Evans was not erect. Mr. Evans was shrunk up 
like a turtle with its head pulled into the shell. I 
couldn't even find his cock. 

Oh, no, I thought. Not this! Not after all this wait!

But, as I gently fingered his scrotum, and played with 
his testicles, the head of his cock poked out, and 
began to grow. It elongated enough to cover the back of 
my hand, and as its size grew to what I had wished for 
all along--and then bigger--I took him in my hand. 

My God, I thought. He's bigger than Tommy Payne! I 
began to stroke his cock and got very hard myself. I 
slipped him out the front of his shorts and began 
stroking him as I stroked myself and he woke up and 
muttered sleepily: "Huh? Whas' goin on?" 

"Hi, Mr. Evans," I whispered.

"What!" 

He jerked and grabbed my hand and tried to sit up all 
at the same time. I came perilously close to sliding 
off the couch. 

Sounding close to panic, he hissed at me fiercely: 
"What are you doing, Matthew!"

I was breathless and scared to death. I grabbed his 
free wrist with my left hand and pulled myself back up 
beside him. He was going soft in my hand. I was already 
soft. My testicles felt like shrunken little peas. 

"Matthew?" he hissed again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans!" I whispered back (only it was 
more like a whimper). "Let me go and I'll get out of 
here right now!" All I wanted was out of this room and 
back into my little bed. Let him think whatever he 
wanted. I was sleepwalking, I'd tell them if I had to--
I had had a bad dream.

I released his cock and slid myself down off the couch. 
Getting onto my hands and knees, I backed away to where 
my clothes were and gathered them up. "I'm sorry, Mr. 
Evans," I whispered truthfully. "I really am." I put on 
my t-shirt and Mr. Evans just sat there. 

What if he tells my dad? I wondered.

"You won't tell my dad, will ya, Mr. Evans?"

He was breathing very hard. He had covered himself up. 
"Are you crazy, Matthew? Get out of here!"

Backing away, I got awkwardly to my feet, turned around 
and headed for the stairs. Just two steps away, I 
suddenly stopped and turned back. I didn't want to 
leave. I really didn't.

"Mr. Evans?"

"What, Matthew?"

"Would you please let me suck you off?"

"WHAT!"

I thought he would come right off the couch, but he 
didn't. Instead, he sat there, a stunned expression on 
his face, his hair totally disheveled. I felt suddenly 
sorry for him.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just thought you might like it 
if I did."

He shook his head slowly, not in a negative motion, but 
one of perplexity. "You are crazy," he said.

But actually, I wasn't.

Dropping to my knees, I stripped off my t-shirt again, 
then slowly crawled back toward him. He shifted 
anxiously on the couch, shook his head again in quick, 
short shakes and hissed "No!" at me. I ignored him. 

"Matthew!!"

"It's okay," I assured him. "I know what I'm doing."

Crawling up between his knee, keeping my hands flat on 
the floor, I rested my head in his lap. He was totally 
soft now. He took my head in his hands, kept me from 
moving.

"I'm going to put you in my mouth," I told him in a 
whisper. "Is that okay?"

He didn't say anything, just kept my head between his 
hands, holding me away. I didn't fight him. I only 
waited him out. 

Eventually, his grip lessened and I sat up, then sat 
back on my calves. I pulled the sheet and the blanket 
free from his lap and let them fall to the floor. His 
penis was flaccid, but still out of his shorts. My 
penis was flaccid too. I reached out and I touched him.

"I've done this once before," I told him in a whisper.

His voice was shaky. "You have?"

I nodded my head. "The boy next door. His name is Tommy 
Payne."

"Oh, my God," he whispered. "When? How?"

I told him all about it as I fingered his cock. As it 
grew bigger, I began to stroke him up and down and then 
he got very big. Eventually, I was at the part where 
Tommy had put himself in my mouth, and I leaned forward 
and put Mr. Evans in my mouth.

"Oh, God!" he moaned. 

"Do you like it?" I asked him.

I got my answer when he lowered my mouth back to his 
cock.

Sucking gently on the head, I fingered his testicles 
until I knew he wanted me to kiss them, then kissed 
each one of them through the skin of their sac. He 
moaned again and stretched out his legs beside me and 
placed his hand over the back of my neck and just held 
it. I licked the head of his cock, ran my tongue all 
around it, then kissed it very deliberately on the tip. 
He groaned again and I kissed him again.

"Matthew," he said, raising up his head and looking at 
me with narrowed eyes. "You have no idea how that 
feels." 

I didn't, but I knew it must feel good. How could it 
not feel good, having someone make love to your cock. 
And that's exactly what I was doing: making love to his 
cock.

"Matthew," he finally panted.

I removed my mouth. "Yes, sir?" 

"I'm going to come, Matthew. Very soon. Can I do it in 
your mouth?"

"Yes, sir," I said, thinking I had made that very 
plain. 

"Thank you," he said.

Suspecting he'd like it a slightly different way, I 
coaxed him to his feet and let him fuck my mouth. I 
even attempted to deep-throat him a little, but I kept 
on choking and we had to stop. In the end I placed my 
hands on my thighs and hunkered down before him, my 
mouth wide open, looking up at him as he prepared to 
come. When he did come he did it with his left hand on 
the top of my head, his right hand masturbating himself 
furiously, his sperm shooting into my open mouth. It 
was very warm and sticky and bitter. 

I never considered spitting him out. I let him watch me 
as I swallowed. That was too much for him and he 
collapsed on the sofa, laughing and panting.

You know what he said to me then? "Matthew," he said. 
"You put all the other boys and girls to shame."

***

I didn't wait a year like I did between Tommy and Mr. 
Evans. I waited exactly one month. 

On August 4th, I was at summer camp. It was a day camp, 
really, over there by the dam. Not that camp had 
anything to do with, though.

I had stumbled across a special chat program like IRC. 
It was not a part of AOL, like IRC, which AOL can 
monitor. The chat rooms were all about sex. 

OMYGODDESS: "I told you, I'm twenty-one."

TWISTATIT: "No way, Goddess, more like fifteen or 
sixteen, now bug off."

OMYGODDESS: "Who says I'm fucking sixteen! GD!!! I'm 
twenty-one!"

TWISTATIT: "A little birdie told me so."

OMYGODDESS: "What little birdie? You mean Tweety 
Bird??!!!!!"

TWISTATIT: "Yes."

OMYGODDESS: "That little slut! You know she's only 
14!!!!!!!!"

TWISTATIT: "I know. She told me when I was fucking her 
ass."

OMYGODDESS: "Then why won't you fuck me?"

TWISTATIT: "Because you lied to me you little slut."

Or:

CLITBEACON: "You know what I told my brother?"

GLORYGIRL: "What?"

CLITBEACON: "That I had gone down on you and that you 
liked it."

GLORYGIRL: "WHAT!!!!"

CLITBEACON: "LOL! I told him you had that piercing 
right below your clit and that I had undone the ring 
with my lips and then put it in your mouth."

GLORYGIRL: "NO WAY YOU TOLD HIM THAT!"

CLITBEACON: "I also told him that I made out with your 
asshole, and that you really liked that too."

GLORYGIRL: "You liked it more than I did, you little 
SLUT! LOL."

CLITBEACON: "LOL. Maybe I did. But it wasn't my 15 year 
old ass wagging all over the place like that."

GLORYGIRL: "Cindy please! Stopppppppppp!!!"

CLITBEACON: "LOL. Don't use my name, slut."

CLITBEACON: "What are you doing? writing a novel?"

GLORYGIRL: "Yes. My friends name is Cindy Stedman, 2401 
Sycamore Lane, Veirs Corner, MO, 15 years old, blonde 
with blue eyes, 34B-24-36. Likes giving head, eating 
girl's pussies, getting ass-fucked. Attends James 
Montgomery Consolidated High School in Randall. Has 
taken it up the ass from two black guys in school and 
has given blow-jobs to her little brother, Kenny (just 
kidding), and wants to fuck Mark Gardner!"

CLITBEACON: "MONICA!!!"

These were just two of the conversations going on the 
night I met MRTIBBS.

The fact that he was black didn't really hit me at 
first. I was too young for his screename to mean 
anything, and when I did dope it out, I had to go back 
through everything I had written to check what I'd 
said. It's not like it made much difference. I was too 
young to really be prejudiced. 

MRTIBBS: "so how old are you, kid, really?"

ROCKETBOY: "14"

MRTIBBS: "is that the truth?"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir"

MRTIBBS: "how old are you really, and don't you lie to 
me."

ROCKETBOY: "11-1/2 sir :-)"

MRTIBBS: "fuck that smiley face boy. you to young to be 
up at this late hour, much less be talkin trash"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir"

MRTIBBS: "at least you know how to respect your elders"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir"

MRTIBBS: "so youve had sex B4?"

ROCKETBOY: "twice now sir. once with a real 14 YO (I 
was 10 then), once with an English teacher"

MRTIBBS: "hmmm. either of them big?"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir. the 14 YO was 6 inches and pretty 
thick, the teacher was even bigger"

MRTIBBS: "what did you do"

ROCKETBOY: "well, the 14YO--I stroked him until he was 
ready to come, then he put it in my mouth. the teacher 
(call him mr.e) i pretty much ambushed when he was 
drunk. he let me suck him off"

MRTIBBS: "either one come in your mouth"

ROCKETBOY: "both of them sir"

MRTIBBS: "you swallow?"

ROCKETBOY: "the teacher i did. the 14YO i did to keep 
from choking to death. the rest of him i spit out"

MRTIBBS: "hmmmmm. sounds like you like to suck."

ROCKETBOY: "i think i do. I did the last time"

MRTIBBS: "you done anything else boy?"

ROCKETBOY: "no sir. not with a man"

MRTIBBS: "who else with?"

ROCKETBOY: "well....myself?"

MRTIBBS: "LOL. kids in love with hisself"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir. I guess so, LOL"

MRTIBBS: "what you do?"

ROCKETBOY: "I play with my butt"

MRTIBBS: "how?"

ROCKETBOY: "with a pencil mostly. and sometimes with my 
fingers."

MRTIBBS: "like the pencil being up your butt?"

ROCKETBOY: "yes sir"

MRTIBBS: "think youd like a dick?"

ROCKETBOY: "I think Im too young for that sir"

MRTIBBS: "OK. how about something bigger then, but 
inanimate"

ROCKETBOY: "excuse me sir"

MRTIBBS: "a dildo boy. a vibrator"

ROCKETBOY: "OIC. hummm"

MRTIBBS: "if you would like me too, i will buy you a 
dildo that you can use, leave it someplace where you 
could find it. ok?"

ROCKETBOY: "you would? really?"

MRTIBBS: "i hear excitement in your voice, young man"

ROCKETBOY: "<blush>"

MRTIBBS: "so what do you say?"

ROCKETBOY: "Uh yes. how big would it be?"

MRTIBBS: "i was thinking something easy, like 9 inches 
or so. LOL. just kidding. 6 inches. white boys size"

ROCKETBOY: "OIC"

It was here I realized he was black. 

The next night we agreed on a plan. To prove that I 
wasn't some cop somewhere, trying to trap him as a 
pedo-freak, we agreed to let him see me outside. I 
wouldn't see him. Over the weekend my mom took me to 
the store, and I told him what and where and what I'd 
be wearing. I would ask her take me to the bookstore in 
the mall to look for the latest Harry Potter book. I'd 
knock over a stack of books. I looked, but if he was 
there, I never saw him. 

MRTIBBS: "you a cute little boy, M-boy. nice mouth"

ROCKETBOY: "thank you, I think. you know my name?"

MRTIBBS: "yes. but i won't use it, don't worry"

ROCKETBOY: "thanks."

MRTIBBS: "your welcome"

ROCKETBOY: "so, i guess you know i'm real then, huh."

MRTIBBS: "that, or the cops are recruiting them really 
young"

ROCKETBOY: "LOL. You still gonna leave me a dildo?"

MRTIBBS: "its already bought. now where do you want me 
to leave it?"

ROCKETBOY: "let me think about it"

MRTIBBS: "how about at your camp?"

***

Two days later, during a softball game, I snuck off 
into the woods to the prearranged place. Buried in the 
leaves beneath a tree with two white dots painted on 
it, was a foot-long package, wrapped in a green 
trashcan liner. I hid it in my backpack. 

That night, in the privacy of my bedroom, I unwrapped 
the package and examined what the man had left for me. 
It was seven inches long from the tip of the head to 
the bulge were the testicles were supposed to be. I 
marveled at its realistic black shape. It had batteries 
already in it. 

"Holy shit," I whispered. Could I put this thing in my 
ass? "I'm gonna try," I said.

Sliding out of my pajama bottoms and then my shorts, I 
did my trick with my big toes and bared my anus. It 
wouldn't go it. 

"Okay," I whispered to myself, "A little ingenuity 
here."

Getting dressed again, I went downstairs and opened the 
refrigerator door and got out the tub of margarine. 
Taking off the top, I looked at the shiny yellow stuff 
with a strange stirring in my groin--or maybe it was in 
my rectum. Getting a paper cup, I scooped out a big 
chunk, put it in the cup, and then went back upstairs 
to my bedroom. 

"You be careful," I said, getting back into bed. "This 
thing is really big."

Big or not, I slipped out of my pajamas again, and then 
my shorts. I fingered out a glob of margarine, put the 
cup on the floor, then pulled back my legs. I rubbed 
the margarine all over my asshole. 

"God!" I said, shivering. "That's cold!" 

This time, after twirling the head of MRTIBBS in the 
margarine, it slid right in.

"Oh my God!" I gasped. I lay there without moving, 
clenching my teeth. I wanted to slide the thing back 
out again, but I wouldn't do that. Then I looked at my 
bedroom door and wondered why I had forgotten to lock 
it.

"Fuck it," I whispered, slipping the dildo farther 
inside me. I imagined my mother standing in the 
doorway. I imagine my mother nude. It wasn't that hard, 
because I had already seen her nude.

Two months before, in one of my typical afternoon 
forays, I had discovered her stash of pictures. They 
were hidden in a box of old photographs in the top of 
her closet. Her face was flushed in most of the early 
shots, but then she got to like it. She started out 
completely dressed in the kitchen, then took off all 
her clothes, ending up nude on the living room couch. 

She lay there spread really far apart, her fingers 
holding apart the lips of her pussy so that I could see 
her vagina. She also had pictures where she had fingers 
up inside her, as many as four of them, but I liked the 
middle finger of her right hand the best. She even 
fingered her asshole. I especially liked it went she 
got on all fours.

My mom was thirty-two years old. She was a very 
attractive woman, with long brown hair, brown eyes, and 
a freckled complexion. Her breasts were small--are 
small--but very pointy, with big puffy nipples. I like 
her puffy nipples. She has a scar across her belly that 
I knew was from Daniel's caesarean section, and even it 
looked kinda cool. 

"Stop it," I said. "You'll make yourself come."

Gripping the end of the dildo, I slid it further in, 
stopping whenever I had to rest. It was too big. It 
made me really hurt. It made me really full. 

Looking at the door, I wished again my mother were 
standing right there, in her negligee, the one she had 
worn in some of her pictures. I pushed the dildo all 
the way up inside me as far as it would go and turned 
it on.

"Oh my God," I moaned. It felt so good. I turned the 
switch up a little higher and began to softly laugh. I 
began to fuck myself, slowly and gently at first, but 
all the way in. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer 
and I switched over to my favorite position.

"Oh, yes," I murmured, my face pressed to the mattress 
and my butt straight up in the air. I couldn't fuck 
myself this way, but I didn't need to. The vibrator did 
it for me. 

Slowly, using my fingertips to get the dildo seated all 
the way inside, I sought out the vibrator cap and 
twisted it completely to the right. It shut itself off. 

"Shit!" I whispered, turning it back on again. And 
there I knelt, vibrator in my ass, grinning happily as 
the vibrations thrummed throughout my insides. I looked 
at my door again and saw my mother standing there, in 
her negligee as I had wanted her to be, hand to her 
mouth, staring intently. She did not grin as I would 
have liked, but was open-mouthed behind her hand. And 
then she said my name.

MRTIBBS: "SHE WHAT!!!!!"

ROCKETBOY: "i said she caught me at it"

MRTIBBS: "what did you do? You didnt tell her about me, 
did you!"

ROCKETBOY: "no way, Jose. I took care of it"

MRTIBBS: "took care of it? how?"


I did take care of it. With the help of my mom.

"Matthew!" she hissed, hurriedly closing the door. 
"What are you doing!"

Her eyes were big and round, and she looked shaky all 
over. Her mouth formed a big, quivery "O". She made 
terrible "irking" noises deep in her throat.

I got off my knees, took the dildo out of my ass and 
turned it off, then sat up. Incredibly, I was calm. 
"You heard me?" I asked.

"Of course I heard you!" she hissed. "What did you 
think?"

"Is Dad awake?" I asked.

"Don't you worry about your father!" she hissed at me. 
"You worry about me, young man!" She seemed undecided 
on being shook up or angry. 

Angry or confused, she looked absolutely gorgeous. And 
I told her so.

"What?" She blinked half a dozen times, started to 
speak, then stopped. She gulped loudly. "Matthew, are 
you all right?"

She was wondering, I suddenly realized, if I was sleep-
walking or something. I put that idea out of her head.

"I'm not sleep-walking, Mom."

"Then what's the meaning of this behavior?" she 
demanded.

My computer was still on, but put in sleep-mode. 
Getting out of bed, I placed the dildo on the 
nightstand so that it stood straight up--she stared at 
it very hard for just a second--then went over and hit 
the space bar. With her making impatient sounds behind 
me, I clicked on the hard drive, clicked on my personal 
folder, ran the utility that unlocked my secret folder, 
and clicked it open. Inside were twelve folders 
containing all her pictures. All three hundred of them.

"What is this?" she demanded. But she was scared. 
Moving hesitantly closer, she put her hand on the back 
of my chair, leaned closer to look at the screen--and 
gasped.

"Matthew?"

The folders had names like: Mom on the Living Room 
Sofa; Mom in the Kitchen; Mom Downstairs in the Rec-
room; Mom Outside in the Garage. 

My favorite, and the folder with the most pictures in 
it was: Mom and her Favorite Toys.

"Matthew!" she uttered again.

And then I showed her herself.

*********


It was half an hour later. She lay in my bed, in my 
arms, my penis soft now but still inside her. She was 
still in her negligee.

"You can never tell your father about this," she said 
unnecessarily.

"Uh-huh."

She had completely freaked out at first. "You have to 
erase these things!" she keened, fumbling with the 
mouse.

"Mom! Mom!" I said, trying to calm her down. "It's all 
right."

She looked at me, her mouth that big round "O." "It is 
not okay, Matthew! You have to get those thing off of 
there!" She shook like a leaf, the pointer jumping up 
and down, all over the screen. "Now!" she insisted. 
"Right now!" 

I took her hands and I squeezed them. "Mom! I'm not 
going to erase the pictures."

"What!" Her breath was going in and out in little 
gasps, her chest--and with it her little breasts, 
pumped up and down. 

"I want to keep them," I said. 

"What! Why!"

Patiently, I tried to make her understand. She slowly 
did, and freaked out even worse.

"No!" she said, whipping away her hands. "I will not!"

"Why?" I asked her, staying calm.

She looked at me like I were a snake... or a loathsome 
roach. "Matthew Ridgeway," she said. "You are insane." 
And she got up to leave.

"Mom, I want to fuck you."

This stopped her in her tracks.

Slowly, uncertainly, she turned around to face me and 
stared. How many mothers have heard that from their 
son? I wondered. She looked totally dazed.

"Will you?" I asked.

"Will I what?"

"Go to bed with me."

She looked at my bed. Then at me. Then at my computer. 

"It's okay," I said. "I'm not talking blackmail." 
Working quickly, I closed out the open folders, closed 
the folder they were in, then dragged the folder to the 
desktop. "Come here," I said.

Slowly, club-footedly, she made her way back to the 
computer. 

"You do it," I said. 

"Me?"

"So that you're sure." 

Showing her what to do, I let her open the folders one 
last time, proving what they were, then had her drag 
the main folder to the trash. 

"Right there," I instructed. "See where it says 
Security Wipe?"

"Uh-huh."

"Select that."

With Security Wipe selected, there was no recovering 
the files.

"Where are the originals?' she asked, suspiciously.

"Back in your closet."

She looked at me oddly, a look I couldn't quite fathom, 
then looked back at the screen. She emptied the trash.

"Are they gone?" she asked.

"They will be," I assured her. For the next thirty 
seconds we watched as the files ground slowly away. 
Finally, it was done.

"No more pictures?" she questioned.

"They're gone," I said.

"I can't believe that you did this," she said. Then, 
letting out a long sigh, she added: "And me either."

We sat there for a long long time, her in my desk 
chair, me on the edge of my bed. Finally she got up. 
Then she sat down again.

"Matthew, why would you want to fuck me?"

It was so unexpected, so honestly asked, that I 
couldn't answer.

"I'm your mother, Matthew. Maybe not a good mother," 
she said, laughing bitterly, "but still your mother. 
Boys don't usually want to fuck their mothers. Do 
they?"

I said I didn't know. I only knew about myself. 

"Why?" she asked me again, still uncomprehending.

I reached out my hand, put it between her thighs, and 
she grabbed it and held it still. "No, Matthew," she 
said. "I'm not ready for that yet." The answer seemed 
to surprise her and she blinked.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Matthew."

"I think you're ready, Mom."

Looking at me dazedly, her hair in loose strands around 
her face, some of it tucked haphazardly behind her 
ears, she released my hand. "I'm not," she muttered, 
"but go ahead."

Gently, I slid my fingers up between her thighs . . . 
and I touched her. She sucked in air and her eyes got 
wide and shocky-looking. "Matthew, no!" she whispered, 
clamping her thighs on my hand, then "No!" again.

So we sat there. Time went by. Eventually, she relaxed 
her thighs and took in her breath. "This is insane," 
she said, but she didn't stop me.

Slipping off the bed, I knelt beside her on the floor 
and kissed her neck. She moaned softly, moved aside her 
head, so I could kiss her more easily and I did it 
again.

"Oh, Matthew," she moaned. The place between her legs, 
open now to my stroking fingers, was growing wet. I was 
immensely hard.

Taking her hand, I coaxed her to her feet--she was 
still taller than me, by at least two inches--and into 
my bed. She settled onto her side with me right up 
against her. We began to kiss. 

"Oh, Matthew," she whimpered softly in my ear. "This is 
so wrong."

Wrong or not, it was what she wanted. 

Taking her left breast in my right hand, I gently 
squeezed it, was rewarded with another groan. I felt 
the nipple through her nightgown and it was hard. Then 
I pulled the nightgown up. 

Still shocky-looking, but also very much aroused, she 
held the back of my head as I began to suck her. "My 
God," she murmured. "You did this as a baby." What she 
said next shocked me. "When I nursed you, Matthew," she 
said, switching my mouth to her other nipple. "I used 
to get aroused."

"You did?"

She nodded her head. Her face was feverish and flushed. 
"I would get mini-orgasms in my head," she said, 
"pleasure-ripples I used to call them, from being 
sucked. It never happened with your brother . . .only 
with you."

"Wow," I said.

"Yes... wow."

For a moment I just lay there, looking up at her, then 
I abandoned her bare breasts for her waiting mouth. She 
accepted me hungrily. 

"Matthew," she moaned into my mouth and I kissed her 
even more deeply. The pleasure-ripples I had caused her 
as an infant, well they were pleasure-waves now, or 
maybe even tsunamis. She was slowly going mad. 

Moving her onto her back, I made her spread her thighs, 
and I put my fingers inside her. She stiffened like she 
had received an electrical shock, and I realized she 
was coming. I made her squirm and writhe. Then I 
removed all but my middle finger and let her know this 
was very special for me.

"You saw that in my pictures," she panted.

"Uh-huh."

"And what I did next?"

"Uh-huh."

I made her wriggle and writhe and squirm a whole lot 
more, before I took my finger out of her vagina and put 
it in her mouth. And then I fucked her.

***

"This is very relaxing, Matthew," she muttered. Her 
head was in the hollow between my shoulder and my neck, 
and she breathed very deeply. She was almost asleep, I 
thought. "I have never come like that before. Never in 
my whole life."

I lifted my head. I felt absurdly pleased. The only 
appropriate word was "Really?" so I asked it.

"Yes, really," she muttered into my neck.

Then she went to sleep.

***

It was Friday, December the eleventh, and I was alone. 
I was alone for the entire weekend.

Mom and Dad and Daniel were up in Connecticut, visiting 
Dad's sick sister, Aunt Dee (two years younger than my 
mom and really good looking), who had suffered a 
miscarriage. I was by myself. 

Mom hated this idea and had argued about it for a week. 
But someone had to be here, Dad insisted, to let the 
workmen in. We were having the heat pump replaced, 
before it quit entirely, and at twelve years old, I was 
the man. Mom kept saying bullshit to this, and if you 
really want to know the truth, I think she was right. 
But Dad was trying to give his son a chance to 
experience some real responsibility and that idea I 
enjoyed. And it was only for two days. So I stayed 
home. 

After that night in my room, Mom and I decided that 
doing it again would be stupid. I didn't really believe 
this, but I loved her a lot and knew she had a lot of 
trouble with what we had done. She cried sometimes in 
her bedroom, and when we were together in the same 
room, sometimes I'd look up and she'd be staring at me 
very hard. I just had to leave her alone. 

MRTIBBS stopped talking to me the night I told him 
about Mom, so I never got to suck his cock.

But I did keep the dildo. 

Our condo was in Rehobeth Beach, right off Highway 1A. 
It was in a development of more than twenty buildings 
and the complex was really huge. If you drove through 
it from one end to the other--which you couldn't really 
do because of the layout--it took you through eleven 
different parking lots. 

Friday morning I cleaned. For four hours, I cleaned. 
That was the agreement. Mom wanted the place clean for 
the workmen who were going to mess the place up. I had 
three porno tapes hidden away that belonged to my 
friend Steve. I had brought them in my backpack. I 
didn't watch them during the day because I don't like 
beating off during the day. 

At six o'clock I walked across the development and 
across 1A to the McDonald's on Highway 1. Mom had told 
me not to do this; she wanted me to stay home where I 
was safe. But she also knew that I would go over there 
anyway, because that's the way I was. And she, of all 
the people on Earth, knew how I was.

I had a Big Mac meal with a large fry and a large Coke. 
I ate slowly because I was alone and lonely--there were 
only three other people in the McDonald's, and hardly 
anyone in town. The development was really deserted.

At seven o'clock I walked over to the boardwalk. It was 
very cold there. I messed around in the only arcade 
open until eight o'clock, and then I walked back home 
again. I took my time, even though it was freezing, 
looking into all the lighted windows I could find. I 
walked through residential developments along 1A but I 
saw absolutely nothing.

When I got home there were three messages on the 
answering machine. All of them were from Mom.

"Matthew, don't you ever listen to me? I told you not 
to go out. Anyway," she said in her I'm-resigned-to-it 
voice, "your Aunt Dee is feeling better but there's 
been a little complication." She hesitated here, not 
wanting to say what she had to say. "She's bleeding, 
Matthew, which we talked about before I left, so we 
might be staying up here another day. Your dad might 
even be here the rest of the week. I know you'll be 
okay saying there just one more day. And if that does 
happen, then--" I could hear the frustration mounting 
in her voice. "Look, just call me okay?" and she left 
the number. 

Message number two and message number three would just 
be Mom getting more agitated at me so I erased them. 

"Hi, mom," I said, calling Aunt Dee's number.

The words literally exploded out of her mouth. "Matthew 
Robert! Where have you been!"

"I was at the McDonald's," I told her. "Then over at 
the arcade to play some games."

"Do you know how worried I've been! I couldn't reach 
you and I was just about to call the poli--"

"Mom," I interrupted. 

"What!" she spat back.

She was panting into the phone. She was much too worked 
up. I needed to calm her down. 

"I bet you could you a nice back rub, Mom, huh?"

There was a long silence, then she said, "What?"

"The back rub I gave you last week, the one that made 
your headache go away?"

"Uh-huh," she said uncertainly. 

Everything between us was touched with sexual tension. 
Touching her in any way at all, no matter how innocent 
it seemed, reminded her of that. The back rub I had 
given her last week, beside getting rid of her 
headache, had made her very nervous.

"I love you, Mom," I said.

"I love you too, Matthew."

"I can take care of myself, Mom, you know that, right?"

A pause. Then, plaintively: "But you're just a little 
boy, Matthew!"

I asked her: "Do you really believe that, Mom?"

She paused again. "I want to," she said, sighing 
softly. "I really do."

"Then I'm your little boy, mom."

She said nothing for a while. It has to be difficult 
for a mother to raise a son who has taken you to bed, 
copulated with you, and given you your most powerful 
orgasm ever. 

Finally she said: "I'll call you in the morning. 
Matthew. Lock up tight tonight and don't let anyone in, 
okay?"

There's nobody here to let in, I thought, but said 
okay.

"And Matthew, I do love you, honey."

"I love you too, Mom," I said and hung up. 

***

At ten o'clock, I retrieved the tapes from my backpack 
and sat down to watch them. The first was pretty 
boring. It must have been made back in the late 
seventies or early eighties, shot on film and then 
transferred to tape. The men all had big mustaches and 
blow-dried hair. The women all had big puffy hairdo's 
or shags. The colors were all washed out and the tape 
looked like a copy of a copy of a copy. I skipped my 
way through it hoping but something good to watch. 
There was nothing good to watch.

The second tape was better. It had relatively normal 
looking young woman having sex. One presented her 
California marriage certificate to the camera to prove 
that she was both married and over eighteen. Her name 
was blanked out but not the date and the city. She said 
her name was Rachel and that she was twenty-three years 
old. She looked twenty-three. Her breasts were small 
but bigger than my mother's and I liked her the best. 
She took it up the ass but didn't pretend that she 
liked it.

Rachel had short brown hair, brown eyes, and a dark 
complexion. She started out in a white halter top and 
very red shorts. They were very tight. They looked 
picked out by the producers. She wore red high heel 
shoes, and even though they tried to make her look like 
a tramp, she looked like a nice young housewife. 

She was embarrassed taking off her clothes. She had sex 
with two guys and a girl. The guy named Tony wasn't her 
husband and he enjoyed fucking Rachel a lot more than 
she enjoyed fucking him. She did better with the girl, 
who I don't really even remember. 

The second girl was named Renee. She was twenty-one 
years old, blonde with shoulder-length hair, and only 
moderately pretty. She had big green eyes that helped 
with her looks. She had even smaller breasts than 
Rachel did, even smaller than my mother's, and when she 
stood sideways to the camera, they barely stood out 
from her chest. 

She took a lot of ribbing about it from the crew and 
the four guys that fucked her--and not all of it good-
natured, either. One of the guys asked her if she had 
ever walked around topless, pretending she was a guy. 
Renee got red and tried to hide how upset she was. That 
guy was a shit.

The third girl was a slut named Brandy. She finished 
out the tape so I went back and jerked off to Rachel 
and Renee, who I kept liking more and more. In my back 
back was something else from the house, something that 
kept me from ejaculating looking at the porno tapes. It 
was the black dildo given to me by MRTIBBS.

***

I saved the third tape for Saturday night. It was after 
midnight anyway and I wanted to fuck. 

I got MRTIBBS out of my backpack, where I had 
intentionally left it during the movies, then went into 
the kitchen for a cupful of margarine. Other things 
might be better than margarine for fucking yourself in 
the ass, but it had an intimate attraction for me. I 
locked the front door, checked the patio door, then 
went into my bedroom and closed the door. 

"Maybe somebody's up," I said. 

I went to the window and picked up one of the window 
slats and looked outside. No one was up. I don't think 
anyone was up anywhere in Rehobeth. In the three 
buildings opposite me, and the one just off to my left, 
there were maybe five lighted windows. And it was 
sleeting.

"Let's go fuck ourselves," I said. 

Instead, I opened the blinds, lay down on the bed, and 
then I fell asleep.

***

I woke up at one-fifteen. The bedroom was illuminated 
by the soft glow from the parking lot lights. I was 
confused and momentarily disoriented. Where was I? Then 
I remembered where I was and my first thought was that 
I was not alone. I lay there very still and listened. I 
heard nothing. Only the irritating clinkity-clinkity-
clinkity of the fucked-up fan motor.

It was sleeting harder now and there was snow mixed in 
with it too. I got up and looked out the window. No 
one's car was out there, and for the most part, the 
parking lot was empty. I wondered what had woken me up.

I heard a toilet flush somewhere and I wondered if it 
was a guy or a girl. I looked up at the ceiling in the 
direction I thought the sound had come from, and 
imagined a sleepy, twenty-something newly-wed wife, 
twisting her pajama bottoms back into position as she 
stumbled her way into the bedroom in the dark. Were her 
panties wet? I wondered. Had she leaked, peeing?

"Oh, my God," I mumbled. I was so horny. 

On my bedside table was MRTIBBS and the cup of 
margarine. I had fallen asleep and woken up a hundred 
times hornier than I was went I went to sleep. My penis 
was twisted up in my shorts and it was leaking. "Oh 
God," I groaned loudly. "I need my mother."

Laughing, I got up and stripped off my clothes. I stood 
there in my socks in front of the open window and it 
felt very sexy. I looked out the open window.

"Matthew," I said aloud, "close the stupid blinds."

I left the blinds alone.

Sitting back down on the bed, I picked up MRTIBBS and 
rotated his head in the I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-
Butter. Then I got up and went into the hallway to the 
linen closet and got a bath-towel for the bed and a 
hand-towel to wipe my hands on. I had made a mess 
before and didn't want a mess tonight.

 Thinking that I was very stupid to do this, I went 
into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, removed 
a bottle of Heineken from one of Dad's six-packs and 
opened it. It was very good. Better than Budweiser. If 
I drank one or two (or three or four), and Dad caught 
on, I'd ask Mom to take care of it for me.

Going back into the bedroom, I spread the towel out 
over the middle of the bed, and then lay down on it. 
Then I picked up MRTIBBS again and looked out the open 
window and grinned.

"You are so stupid, Matthew," I said. But it sure felt 
good. 

I raised my feet in the air, took hold of my big toes 
with my left hand, pulled my legs back like I always 
do, and put MRTIBBS against my anus. I pushed him 
against me until he went in. I grunted at the pain, but 
the pain felt good. 

Then I turned the vibrator on.

Pushing MRTIBBS in a little at a time--more for the 
anticipation of it than for safety--I wondered as I 
always did if the real MRTIBBS would have fucked me. I 
felt sure that he would have. We both knew that's what 
he wanted. And if things hadn't happened with my mom--
no, if I hadn't told him about things happening with my 
mom--he would have asked me to meet him and I would 
have fucked him with my ass. I wished he were fucking 
me right now.

I sighed deeply. "This feels so good, MRTIBBS," I told 
the dildo. I could only take it all the way up me on my 
hands and knees, but I wasn't ready for that yet. That 
was my prize.

Suddenly there was a glow in the air outside and I saw 
headlights. The lights were two parking lots away but 
coming closer. Then they swung into the parking lot 
just across the way and threw their light over the 
front of the building there and I moaned. I didn't want 
to move.

Our condo is on the second floor and my bedroom is 
right up front. Once the car or truck or whatever it 
was made the ninety degree turn into our side of the 
parking lot, my bedroom would be flooded with light. It 
was already growing bright. 

"Come on!" I protested. "Please?"

The headlights came around the turn and for a long two 
or three long seconds I did nothing. Then I lost my 
nerve and scrambled off the bed, hitting the floor with 
a thump hard enough to dislodge the dildo and send it 
bouncing across the carpet to hit the wall. I began to 
laugh, even though I really hurt.

"God dammit," I moaned. "Son of a fucking bitch."

But it didn't stop me from laughing

Again, something woke me up. Right now, that was the 
least of my worries. I was on my knees, my tail was 
stuck in the air, and MRTIBBS was still in it. 

"Oh my God," I moaned. "I didn't."

Oh, yes, I did.

I reached up behind me and checked to make sure. 
MRTIBBS was still there, all the way in. I had fallen 
asleep with him in my butt. And the batteries had died. 

I looked at the clock. It read Three-fifteen a.m. I 
thought, Two hours? Maybe more? then I groaned, just 
imagining what this was going to be like. 

Pulling out the pillows that were beneath my hips, I 
settled onto my stomach. I didn't hurt that much, not 
yet, because I was numb inside.

I turned on my side and pulled MRTIBBS slowly out of my 
rectum. He came out with a big burp of gas. "Nuungg," I 
groaned, because it smelled so bad. Then I tucked my 
legs against my chest and felt my anus flutter and 
cramp as it started to close. 

I looked out the window for a very long time. There was 
an old Camaro parked in a space across the lot where no 
car had been parked before. I groaned and hit myself in 
the head; I had been seen. Then no, I realized, because 
lights shining into my bedroom from a car parking 
across the street would have woken me up. Just about 
anything wakes me up. I sighed with relief.

I pushed MRTIBBS off the bed and onto the floor, and 
said, "Fuck you. I'm done with you. Done with you 
forever." Then, doing exactly what I thought I couldn't 
do, I fell back asleep. 

***

What the fuck was going on? 

The light was on and I reached over and turned it out. 

I had been on top of my covers, completely nude, and 
the light had been on. It was four-thirteen a.m.

Rolling off the bed, I reached out and traced the lamp 
cord to where it plugged into the wall. Only it didn't 
plug into the wall . . . it plugged into a timer.

The timer. I had forgotten... about... the timer.

"Oh fuck!" I whimpered, wanting to crawl under the bed. 

Mom and Dad hated the idea of someone breaking into 
their condo. So even in the wintertime they insisted on 
having timers in the two front bedrooms. Their bedroom 
and mine. The timers come on at different times during 
the night, long enough to appear that someone was using 
the bathroom. What was my timer set for, I wondered.

I reached under the nightstand and pulled the timer out 
of the wall. Then I removed the lamp plug from the 
timer and plugged it into the wall. Then I got up and 
closed the stupid blinds that never should have been 
open in the first place, then turned on the bedside 
light.

I studied the timer's face. 

"Set for one hour intervals," I said aloud. From eleven 
o'clock until six o'clock in the morning. Actually, the 
way the timer was set, eleven-ten at night, until six-
ten in the morning, not that it made much difference.

"Fuck," I said miserably. Then I said: "Damage control, 
Matthew."

When it had gone off the very first time at eleven-ten, 
I was watching the tape. At twelve-ten, I was safe 
again, still watching the tape. I must have dozed off 
on the bed about quarter to one, but at one-fifteen, I 
had woken up again, horny, confused, and needing to 
pee. Then I had fallen prey to my hormones.

At three-fifteen, right after the light snapped off 
again, I had lifted my head and discovered myself still 
impaled by MRTIBBS. I had cursed myself out, removed 
the dildo from my ass and gone right back to sleep. At 
four-thirteen, with the light still on, I had woken up 
and found myself lying here naked and exposed on the 
bed. I had slept through the two-fifteen turn-on, 
entirely.

My mind just stopped. I refused to think about it. 

Gripping my head in my hands, I rocked slowly back and 
forth on my knees, moaning. 

***

I was still nude at four forty-five a.m. and still on 
the floor. My eyes were closed and I was tucked into a 
fetal position. A measure of control had returned to me 
but I refused to get up. What the hell had I done? 

I got up and stood before the window and spread the 
blinds. My heart was pumping hard in my chest. I felt 
light-headed. "Easy, Matthew," I whispered. "Don't you 
pass out on me now."

Earlier tonight, my side of the parking lot had been 
completely empty. Now, the old Chevy Camaro was backed 
into the space directly across from my window, maybe 
better than any other space in the lot to see into my 
bedroom. 

"Was he parked out there," I wondered aloud, "watching 
me?"

If your light was on, I thought, it sure seems that 
way.

I was suddenly positive of it.

"Jesus, Matthew, you are so screwed."

Picking up MRTIBBS I cleaned him and put him away. Then 
I cleaned myself up. I was beginning to ache inside 
like I had never ached before. It scared me and made me 
want to cry.

Putting on my discarded jeans and my blue t-shirt, I 
went out to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich and 
I had a glass of milk. I stared out the kitchen window. 
It was snowing hard with real big snowflakes. None of 
the flakes were sticking and I knew that snowflakes 
that big don't last. There wouldn't be any accumulation 
in the parking lot to keep the workmen from showing up 
later on and I had wanted to be alone today.

"Fuck it," I said, and went back to bed. 

***

At eight-thirty I woke up without much pain. I was 
surprised. My asshole was sore and I felt kinda raw 
inside, but not much more than that. I began to feel 
blessed. "Thank you, God," I said, "for looking out for 
stupid young boys."

I got up and walked carefully all around the condo. The 
pain got a little worse but nothing like what it was 
before. I remembered how panicked I had been at five 
o'clock. 

The snow had stopped but it was cloudy outside and 
still looked very cold. The glass of the patio door was 
very cold when I touched it and speckled with frost. I 
wanted to take a shower but I didn't know when the 
workmen would be there and didn't want to be in the 
shower when they arrived. Then the doorbell rang.

"Hi," I said, opening the front door. Three men in 
coverall's, heavy work boots and heavy winter coats 
stood outside. 

"Hi there, yourself," one of the workmen said. "Your 
parents home?"

The man was about fifty years old with a beard and a 
very red face. What they call ruddy, I guess. The other 
two were in their earlier twenties or maybe twenty-
five. One was black, the other one was a Hispanic. They 
all looked very cold.

"No, sir," I said. "Just me."

The older workman hesitated. He looked unsure what to 
next. I don't think he liked this much. 

"My parents are up in Connecticut," I told him 
honestly, "visiting my sick aunt."

"Oh," the man said.

"My dad said he cleared it with someone in your 
office," I said, trying to make him feel better. Then I 
wondered why I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted 
them to go away.

"He did?" the workman asked.

I told him yes and this seemed to be okay. 

"Okay," he said. "Show us the way, kid."

I lead them out onto the balcony and unlocked the door 
to the furnace room. As soon as I opened the door, the 
noise got much louder.

"Bad bearing," the black man said.

"Maybe a busted squirrel cage too," the Latino guy 
said.

The old man just grunted.

I told them I was going to take a shower and went back 
to my bedroom. I got out new underpants, a clean T-
shirt, and a new pair of jeans. I took them all into my 
mom's bedroom, got out the ironing board and the iron 
and ironed the T-shirt and jeans. Then I took my 
shower. It felt very good and I stood beneath the water 
for a long time. Then I did my hair and washed myself 
all over. I was very careful washing between my cheeks. 
I didn't get out until the hot water had started to 
turn cold.

At three o'clock the workmen finished up and went home. 
They had replaced the motor that was burning out and 
the thing the Latino guy called the squirrel cage. They 
also replaced something else but I don't remember what 
it was. Some kind of coil. They had to use a torch to 
get it out and to put a new one in.

Once they had left, I locked the front door and lay 
down on the living room couch. I was very tired. When I 
was almost asleep, I sat bolt upright after I heard a 
car door shut and ran to the patio door and looked 
outside... just in time to see the Camaro drive away.

I did not see the driver. Not even to see if it was a 
man or a woman.

I cursed and smacked the patio door. 

***

I woke up at eight p.m. I was very frustrated. Thoughts 
I hated roamed around my head like horses.

Had the guy (I was positive by then it was a guy) 
really seen me? 

How long had he watched me? The whole five minutes?

Would he tell my mom and dad? 

What would they do to me?

The telephone rang. "Fuck you!" I shouted at it. "I'm 
not here!"

I got up and answered the phone.

"Matthew?"

"Hi, Mom."

"How is it going, honey?"

"Fine, Mom. How's Aunt Dee?"

"Your Aunt Dee's fine," she said in a tone that told me 
that Aunt Dee--or something else--wasn't really fine. 
"There is another problem though."

"What?" I asked. 

"It's snowing up here, Matthew."

I looked out the kitchen window. It wasn't snowing 
here. "How much?" I asked.

"A lot."

I wasn't sure exactly what it was she was telling me. 
"Are you staying up there?" I asked. 

"No," she said. "If I can still get a flight out in the 
morning I'll be there around eleven a.m. I tried to get 
one out tonight, but the stupid weather has the airport 
nearly shut down. Whatever is flying out is completely 
booked. But I have a reservation on an American 
Airlines flight coming into Baltimore at nine-fifteen, 
so I'm bringing Daniel with me and we'll pick you up at 
the condo and take you home, okay? By the way, how is 
the condo. Did the workmen show up?"

I told her yes. "What about Dad?" I asked.

She paused. "Your Dad's staying up here. Probably 
throughout the week. Dee's... well, Dee's not doing too 
well, Matthew."

Suddenly I was scared. "She's not going to die, is she, 
Mom?"

"No!" she laughed at me. "She's not going to die! I 
just mean she's really sick."

"Oh," I said, feeling relieved. Grown up's are so 
damned melodramatic.

"Matthew," she said softly. 

"What?"

"When I get home, we have to talk, okay?"

"Sure, Mom," I said. "I understand."

"Do you, Matthew? Really?"

I said, "If I don't understand, Mom, who else do you 
think would?"

She had no answer for that.

"I love you, Mom," I said.

"I love you too, Matthew. Sleep tight."

"Sleep tight," I repeated and then we hung up.

***

At around nine o'clock, I ate a bunch of mini-carrots 
with some dip and had a Coke. I wanted one of Dad's 
Heineken's--I looked at them in the refrigerator 
longingly--but decided that was a bad idea. Then I 
watched some awful Meryl Streep movie and then watched 
MTV, then got up and ate some more carrots. I ate them 
with peanut butter this time. 

Every ten minutes or so I got up and I peeked out 
between the patio curtains. The spaces across from me 
were still empty and so were most of the spaces in the 
lot. It was really cold outside, down in the teens, but 
there was no chance of snow. 

I went out onto the patio. I looked to my left down the 
lot and saw no blue Camaro parked there. I saw no 
Camaro parked anywhere. There were only seven vehicles 
in the part of the parking lots that I could see. There 
were only eleven lighted windows.

What am I doing here? I wondered and went back inside.

If the Camaro arrived home late last night, I reasoned, 
maybe he would arrive home late again tonight. A 
certain part of me wanted to give him the exact same 
show and I got very hard sitting there thinking about 
that. 

About eleven o'clock I started watching the third porno 
tape. It was so bad I won't bother to describe it, 
except to say that I got a really good hard-on only 
once during the whole thing. I stopped it often to peek 
out the curtains. 

At one o'clock a blue car drove through the parking 
lot, but it wasn't the Camaro. The building we live in 
is at the bottom of what you could describe as an "S" 
curve and there are two buildings to our left. The blue 
car went down and parked before one of those. I know, 
because I watched him from the balcony railing. It was 
just some old man.

From one o'clock until one-thirty, no one came into the 
lot. I was standing at the patio curtains, peeking out, 
when I got an idea. Going into my bedroom, I picked up 
the timer from my bedside table and set it to the 
correct time, unplugged the lamp from the wall and 
plugged in the timer.  

"You're crazy, Matthew," I said aloud. "You know that, 
right?"

Plugging the lamp back into the timer, I opened the 
blinds all the way, pulled back the curtains all the 
way, grabbed my tennis shoes off the floor and went 
into the living room. At the patio doors I checked 
outside one last time, then went to the hall closet and 
got out my heavy winter coat, my Eagles cap and my 
heavy woolen mittens. I put all of them on. I repeated 
that I was crazy.

Then I went outside to wait.

***

I hid behind the corner of my own building, then 
decided that was stupid. I couldn't see him from there. 
If he showed up, that is. Instead, I crossed the 
parking lot and hid behind a big bush on the side of 
the building over there. I was almost directly behind 
the space where the Camaro had been parked and could 
see just fine into my bedroom window. It was two-oh-
five.

"You have fi-five minutes," I chattered, already 
freezing cold. It must have been ten degrees. 

One minute later a car suddenly appeared, driving very 
fast, the lights off as it came around the corner. It 
was the blue Camaro. Stopping in front of my building, 
the Camaro pulled nose first into the space directly 
below my window, then backed into the space opposite 
it. Scared totally shitless, I held me breath to keep 
it from being seen.

The driver was a man.

He looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties. 
His hair was dark and he wore glasses. He shut off the 
engine and looked at his watch, then up at my bedroom 
window. It was two-oh-nine.

"Come on, you fucking light!" I said into my hand. 

The driver leaned forward against the steering wheel, 
waiting. 

The light in my bedroom turned on. 

The man sat bolt upright and grasped the wheel with 
both hands. He clearly wanted to see me. How bizarre 
was that? Then I thought: Why not let him?

Knowing I had made the decision hours ago, and not 
kidding myself thinking that I hadn't, I moved out from 
behind the bush and walked over to his car. I knocked 
on his driver's side window and he jumped. "Jesus 
Christ!" I saw him mouth. 

He rolled down the window. "What?" he said cautiously.

I was moving back and forth from foot to foot. "I wa-
want to talk to you," I chattered.

"What about?

"About wh-why you're si-sitting out here," I said.

***

His name was Richard and he examined the condo very 
carefully. He went into every room, looking especially 
hard into mine. His eyes were narrowed as he asked me: 
"You're parents are where, again?"

I explained it to him again. He only grunted.

"So what am I doing here?" he said.

I offered to get him a beer.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "That would be nice." He was a 
good looking man, tall and thin and muscular-looking, 
but also tired-looking and pretty haggard. He was also 
very nervous.

I lead him into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator 
door, and got out two bottles of Heineken. He took his 
and looked at mine.

"So, what's the story, here. Matthew?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Last night? Or tonight?"

"Both," he said.

I told him about last night.

"You're how old again?" he asked me for the third time.

"I just turned twelve."

"And you're doing that kind of thing to yourself?" His 
tone was incredulous, but his expression said he was 
impressed. 

I explained to him about MRTIBBS. 

"Jesus Christ," he said softly. Then he said: "So what 
do you want to do, Matthew?"

And I told him.

***

I woke up with a start. It was six-twenty a.m. I was 
alone in the bed and Richard was standing up, bent 
over, pulling up his jeans. I sat up on my elbows.

"You going home?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said. "I have to."

"I thought you lived alone."

"I do, but a buddy's supposed to pick me up at eight 
o'clock. We're going fishing."

"Fishing?" I said. It was so cold outside. 

If he had growled at me or given me some bullshit 
answer, I would have known he was lying. But he didn't. 

"Believe me kid," he said. zipping up his jeans. "If it 
were up to me, right now you'd be sucking my cock and 
getting yourself ass-fucked all day long. Or until your 
mom got home, anyway. But the truth of it is--" He bent 
down and retrieved his work boots and socks. "--I do 
this every weekend and my buddy wouldn't understand me 
missing it for you." He halted putting on his right 
boot and grinned at me again. "Not unless you wanted to 
do him too?"

"No thanks," I said, laying back down on the bed. "You 
were quite enough."

After I had told him what I wanted to do, he just stood 
there for a time, looking at me. I tried to imagine 
what I would think, me being him. 

Crossing to where he stood, I dropped to my knees and 
put my beer beside my knee. Through the front of his 
jeans I could see the outline of his erection. He was 
very hard. I wondered how big he was. So I asked him.

"Seven inches," he said in a shaky voice. The beer 
bottle shook in his hand. I wondered--not very 
hopefully, really--if he would end up sucking me too. 

I put my hand on the front of his jeans and felt his 
swollen cock.

"Jesus Christ," he said in a choked voice. He shuddered 
violently. He was breathing very fast. 

Thinking I better do this fast, I unzipped his jeans, 
worked him out of his shorts, and put him in my mouth.

"Goddddd! Jesus, I don't believe this!" he said. 

Knowing the danger of his leaving was past, I took him 
out and unbuttoned his jeans. He didn't say a word.

"I've done this twice before," I told him, describing 
the previous two times while I stroked his cock. He was 
bigger than Tommy Payne, but not as big as Mr. Evans. 
He had a very big head though, bigger than Mr. Evans, 
and like Tommy he had big blue veins. His testicles 
were small, and did not hang down like either Tommy's 
or Mr. Evans. They were drawn up tight in their little 
sack. I fingered them gently and kissed them.

"Is that okay?" I asked him.

He said it was okay. 

I stroked him between the flaps of his jeans, enjoying 
the sexy way that felt. Come kept beading up on his 
cock and I would suck it off or lick it off with my 
tongue. I spent quite a while kissing his head.

"Put it in your mouth, Matthew," he said.

I put him back in my mouth.

As I sucked him, I pulled down his jeans, pulled down 
his shorts, untied his work boots and pulled them off 
his feet. Then I helped him out of his pants. While I 
did this he kept moaning, taking sips from his bottle 
of beer, and touching my head. I liked it when he 
touched my head. 

I removed his cock from my mouth. "Is this okay?" I 
repeated.

He couldn't get out an answer. He just nodded up and 
down and laughed shakily. Taking him in my hand, I 
stroked him very gently, fingering his testicles with 
my left hand. Every few strokes I kissed him or put him 
into my mouth. I thought he was going to die.

"Get undressed, Matthew," he told me.

I released his cock and slowly undressed myself between 
his legs, making myself naked for him. My little cock 
was rock hard and I played with it with my fingertips.

"Would you like to fuck me in my mouth?" I asked him.

Gasping out: "Oh, yes!" he grabbed my head and began 
moving it forward and back on his cock, thrusting 
forward as he pulled me close. I stroked my own little 
erection and fingered my little balls, letting him have 
his fun. Suddenly he slowed down.

"Can you deep-throat me, Matthew?" he croaked.

"I can try."

He let his hands fall to my shoulders and I put my 
hands behind his thighs, leaned forward and put his 
cock into my mouth. I slid up the length of it. 

"Easy," he whispered. "Take your time, Matthew."

I did, and on the tenth time or so, it finally went 
down.

"Oh, God," he moaned, giving a little shudder. "This is 
good."

I also though it was good. I worked at getting him 
deeper and deeper until finally I could put my lips 
right around the base of his cock and my nose was in 
his pubic hair. It was actually kind of funny. 

"Hold yourself there," he said.

I did, and stayed there until he told me I could move 
my mouth. He laughed when I let out a deep breath and 
sucked one back in.

"You are a wonderful kid, Matthew," he said softly.

I smiled up at him, kissed the end of his cock, and 
started sucking him again. This time I kept my eyes on 
his.

"You really like this, don't you, Matthew?"

I nodded my head.

"I like it too," he said.

I nodded my head again.

"Do you you want me to come in your mouth, or..." He 
lifted his eyes and gestured in the direction of my 
bedroom.

I got up, took him by the hand, and lead him directly 
to my bed. He mounted me right away and fucked me three 
times in an hour and a half.

***

It was seven-forty-five a.m., and I was standing at the 
refrigerator door in just my socks. I liked the feel of 
the cold air drifting out against my skin. I was still 
horny, even after all that sex, and I had an erection. 
I was just starting to lean into the interior to lay my 
testicles on the plastic-coated, wire-mesh shelf when 
the telephone rang. It was my mother. 

"Hi, Mom," I said. 

"Matthew?"

"Who else would it be?" I joked. But she was calling 
from her cell phone in the the airline terminal and the 
connection was bad.

"I can barely hear you!" she called out loudly.

"I hear you just fine."

"Are you... okay?" she said, breaking up with static.

Not counting my very sore asshole? 

"I'm just fine, Mom," I said. "You making the plane 
home?"

"If nothing..." she said, breaking up again. Then I 
lost her for a while.

"...Matthew?"

"Mom?"

"There getting ready to board us, honey, okay? I'll... 
when I get there, okay?"

"Okay, mom!" I yelled back at her.

The line went dead again and stayed that way. I hung up 
the telephone. My erection was leaking come. I closed 
the refrigerator door, went into my bedroom, and fucked 
myself with MRTIBBS.

***

"Where the fuck have you been?" I wondered aloud. 

It was after two o'clock, I was still in the car, still 
holding onto the shifter knob, still waiting to fuck 
myself in the ass. I was shivering like a cranked up 
vibrator. 

I kicked off my sneakers, yanked off my socks, slid out 
of my blue-jeans and threw them onto the back seat. 
Then I took off my underwear and my t-shirt and threw 
them into the back seat too. My breath was a plume of 
very white smoke. 

"Easy, now," I whispered. "Don't rush this, Matthew."

I turned around on the seat. I put my bottom over the 
shifter knob, spread my cheeks with my hands and put 
myself down on it. The cold was a shock. The words, "Oh 
Jesus!" whistled out of my mouth and then I pushed my 
anus down and the knob went in. 

For a full minute I remained absolutely still, just 
waiting. I lay over the seat back, my arms dangling, 
thanking whatever god watched over stupid little boys 
with stupid ideas, then I started to go up and down. 
The knob was a rectal elevator and the steel shaft was 
a geyser of cold fire. 

Then I heard a noise.

"Hello?" I said, without thinking. I thought it was my 
mom, but I saw nothing in any direction. Then the noise 
repeated itself and I thought: A horse? 

Actually it was two horses: the big black stallion and 
a smaller, dark-colored colt. They were inside the barn 
to my left and what I had heard was one of them kicking 
against the stall. 

I sat there on my shifter knob for a very long time, 
thoughts slowly drifting through my head. No, I told 
myself repeatedly. You are not going to do that.

But, as I lifted off the dildo of rubber and steel, and 
reached in the back seat for my clothes, the words I 
had always used to justify the odyssey of my life 
tumbled out of my mouth.

"I've been nuts all my life," I said. "What does a 
little more deviant behavior matter?"

I got dressed and went into the barn.


THE END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 27