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Mall Story
by Dorvis Slaughter (1994)

***

A gay encounter between an adult and a winsome 
teenager at the mall. (Mm, ped, 1st-gay-expr)

***

Okay, it started out rather simple. It was in the 
central concourse of a shopping mall in Chicago, full 
of suburbanites trying like hell to get their 
Christmas shopping done before it was too late. And 
this guy, this teenager, was sitting on a cracked-
leather bench next to a fountain. The fountain had 
this sort of statue like thing, but no one in the 
twenty years of the mall's existence could tell what 
it was supposed to be; instead they just saw a big 
blob of metal, with a plaque underneath that read: 
"The Promise of Summer."

Anyway, this teenager was sitting on the bench looking 
toward the health food store that marked the entrance 
to "Concourse D." He had seen a few boys that had 
taken his fancy, but nothing worth even remotely 
perusing. He was a bit, oh, tense? Hell, we're all 
boy-lovers here, right? So I can say without a 
moment's hesitation that this kid was horny has hell. 

Oh, and by the way, this kid's name was Jon and he was 
16. I know. Usually characters in stories like this 
have these really cool, exotic names like "Thane" or 
"Joaquin" or some shit like that, but trust me, I know 
this story, and the guy's name is Jon. Anyway... 
shit... lost my train of thought... fuck.

Oh! Yeah... okay, anyway he's sitting on this bench 
scoping out mall boys. Now, Jon had decided a few days 
ago that he would find a boy before Christmas. By this 
time, Christmas was a few days away, and Jon was 
beginning to lose hope, thinking that he'd be wacking 
off all his life and that he'd never find the boy for 
him, etc, etc, thoughts we've all had at one time or 
another. 

I mean, Jon was sixteen. His hormones were raging at 
this point in his life. He only admitted to himself 
that he liked boys one year before, I mean, it wasn't 
very easy for this poor guy. But he took it slowly, 
one day at a time, to be clichéd, and things seemed to 
be at a state of homeostasis, if not perfection. He 
wasn't getting laid, but his balls weren't exploding 
either.

Anyway, as I was saying, he hadn't seen any boys worth 
perusing (okay, I know, all boys are worth perusing, 
but you have to be careful and selective when it comes 
to shit like this, you know that as well as I do), but 
as it turned out, the perfect boy, a boy that Jon had 
only dreamed about, quite literally, fell in his lap. 
You should have seen it. I was really charming. 

Okay, this boy, right? He was not quite pubescent, so 
he could have been oh, maybe 13. I would have put it 
there. He had the essentials of mid-90's boy-style, 
you know, the backwards cap and sneakers, baggy jeans, 
and so on and so on. But, and this is a very big but, 
he was emulating someone or some group, I don't know, 
but he was being fashionable (to his little mind, 
anyway) by --get this-- leaving his shoelaces undone. 
I mean, hello! Shoe laces undone. In a mall. Come on.

So, and I know you've guess this little plot point by 
now, the boy tripped. I don't know if someone stepped 
on his undone shoelaces, or if he tripped over 
himself, I don't know. And it really doesn't matter. 
What does matter is that he fell, like I said, right 
into Jon's lap. However, on his way down, his shoulder 
clipped the support beam and it must have hurt him, 
'cause he made this sort of strangled pain sound on 
his way down. 

Now, Jon didn't see the kid before he had him in his 
lap. And when this blurred body just landed there, he 
screamed and sort of jumped. At first, Jon was pissed. 
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said, not 
yelling, but well past the point of stern.

It was then that the boy looked up. 

Oh, god. Just telling you about this boy gets me all 
worked up. Okay. The kid's hair was dark, dark brown. 
In low light, it would look black, but in the sunlight 
streaming through the requisite 70's mall-design 
skylights, the brown sheen was quite visible, with a 
few highlights of red here and there. And, how this 
happened I'll never know, the kid had bright blue eyes 
(but all boys in these stories have blue eyes, I know, 
but Jesus, bear with me). Clear blue eyes, just like 
Paul Newman. The boy's face was satin-smooth with a 
small, pug nose and thin but very red lips.

The boy looked at Jon, and still grimacing with the 
pain that was bursting from his shoulder and said, in 
that sort of forced whisper one gets when talking over 
pain, "...sorry..." He must have seen the expression 
on Jon's face change, because he sort of panicked and 
said, "Hey, are you okay?"

It hadn't occurred to Jon what kind of situation he 
had on his hands until the kid looked up at him, and 
the boy's face, oh god, such a perfect face, that face 
sent an alarm through him, something that stirred him 
like never before. He opened his mouth to speak, but 
all that came out was a strangled crack. 

It was really funny, you should have heard it. Jon 
just stared into the boy's eyes, his mind racing with 
a million questions, scenarios and things to say. But 
all that came to a stop when he saw the blood on the 
boy's shirt. 

"Jesus!" Jon said, with a tone the boy couldn't read. 
It scared him. He grimaced and backed away. Tears 
began to well up.

"I-I'm sorry... really..." the boy stammered, like 
Jon, not sure what to do.

"No, jesus, it's okay, but... you're bleeding!"

"Huh?" Jon's last statement caught the boy by 
surprise. He hadn't expected it. The boy still 
couldn't quit assess the situation. "Bleeding?"

Now, Jon was freaking out right now. This boy was 
hurt. Jesus, a hurt boy! He hated to see anyone hurt, 
but, dammit, a boy! "Yeah, uh..." Jon pointed on the 
patch on the boy's shirt where the blood was seeping 
through the white cloth. "You know, bleeding..."

The boy looked at his shirt, and as with most 
injuries, it wasn't felt until it was seen. The boy 
placed a small hand on the patch. "Oww!" Tears began 
to well up again.

"Come on," Jon said, taking the boy by the shoulder. 
Let's find a bathroom. We can clean it up." 

"O-okay," the boy stuttered.

Jon stopped by the mall's first aid and picked up a 
Band-Aid. He left the boy outside the first aid room 
and told the little Asian woman behind the counter 
that it was for him, so he could be sure that it was 
he and only he who would attend to the little work of 
art that fell, injured, into his lap. This is too 
fucking weird, he thought. Then he smiled. Weird, but 
nice.

Jon took the boy and together they found the little 
restroom corridor at the end of the concourse. A few 
mall-walkers had looked with fleeting interest at the 
boy's bleeding shoulder, but as soon as concern came, 
it passed, and they went on to shop and do whatever 
the hell it is that mall-walkers do. Jon pushed the 
men's room door open end entered the tiled and 
fluorescent cube of toilets and sinks. 

"Get up on that." With that Jon was telling the boy to 
sit on the flat-topped trash can, and the boy obeyed, 
without question. "Take your shirt off."

Jon's thoughts were racing again. <<oh god I hope this 
works I'll feel it I'll actually get to feel his chest 
oh god I hope I don't get hard jesus I hope he's not 
really all that hurt fuck he's beautiful his eyes are 
so damn blue my god I can touch his chest jesus>>

The boy theatrically stripped off his T-shirt. To Jon, 
of course, everything was in loving slo-mo, and he saw 
the boy's tiny belly button appear, the outline of his 
ribs, his small pink nipples, his deep and hairless 
armpits, the small and <<thank god oh fuck yeah thank 
you god>> minor cut on the right shoulder. The shirt 
came up over the boy's head, the elastic neck band 
ruffling his hair. 

"How is it?" Jon asked the kid, trying to keep his 
voice straight.

"How's what?" The boy didn't seem to be in much pain 
now. He seemed...oh what is it, Jon thought... he 
seemed... curious? Was that it? <<Jesus no that's your 
imagination Jon fuck think about it god get your dick 
out of your brain>>

"The cut..."

"Oh...uh, okay, I guess." The boy examined it 
nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess it's okay."

Jon took some paper towel from the dispenser, got it 
wet under the faucet, and began to lightly wipe away 
the blood with his right hand. He placed his left hand 
on the boy's side, slowly, slowly bringing it up, 
sensing the smoothness of it, the silkiness of the 
preadolescent skin. The entire time, the boy looked at 
Jon's face, which was a mixture of determination and 
something else.

"So what's your name?" the boy asked.

"Huh?"

"What's your name?"

"Oh, it's Jon."

"Jon what?" The boy blinked, one, two, three times. 
Jon almost swooned.

"Um...Jon. Jon..."

"Goodman?" The boy giggled.

"Oh god, no!" Jon laughed, too. Captured by this 
boyish humor. "Jon Kwiatkowski."

"Kwiat...?"

"...kowski."

"Polish, huh?"

"Yep. What's your name?" With this, Jon placed the 
bandage over the tiny cut. There'd be a bruise there 
in the morning.

"Tommy."

"Tom what?"

"Waits."

Jon did a double take on this one. "Waits? Your name 
is Tom Waits."

"Yeah... what?" The boy obviously did not get the 
coincidence.

Jon began to laugh. "Do you know who Tom Waits is?"

"Uh-uh."

"Well, he's a, um..." Jesus, Jon thought. Just what 
the hell is Tom Waits? "I guess he's like a singer."

The boy showed genuine interest in this, knowing that 
there was a singer out there that shared his name. "Is 
he cool?"

"Yeah," Jon said, still giggling at the thought of him 
with Tom Waits shirtless on a garbage can in the mall. 
"He's really cool."

What came out of the boy's mouth next almost sent Jon 
Kwiatkowski crashing through the bathroom wall out 
into the mall concourse. The boy sighed and said, 
"Hey, can I have a lift home?"

"WHAT? ... ahem, what?"

"I need a ride home. Do you have a car?"

Jon's mouth became just the slightest bit dryer. "Yeah 
I do. Sure, yeah. How... how did you get here, 
though?"

"Bus."

"Oh."

Jon, for one of the first times in his life, didn't 
know what the fuck to say. He looked at the kid, who 
was putting his shirt back on, and stood agape. Tommy 
finally noticed this, sort of giggled and said, 
"What?"

"Um...you wanna go?"

"Yeap, sure."

Tommy jumped down off the garbage can and was on his 
way out the door before Jon even thought to move. The 
boy turned around. "You coming?"

Jon looked at him. "What?"

"Are...you...com...ing?" He pronounced every syllable 
and giggled. 

"Yeah! Oh, yeah... fuck... I'm sorry. Oh, I didn't 
mean to say that."

"Say what?"

"The f-word. Sorry. I'm not used to being around 
kids."

The boy smiled, a full smile that lit up his whole 
face. Jon sighed. Tommy walked up to the almost 
panting teenager and said, "Why the fuck not?" And 
burst into laughter. Jon laughed with him, and they 
left, piling into Jon's admittedly shitty Vega. 

The music startled both of them when Jon turned on the 
car. Jon's hand shot out and flicked the volume knob, 
deadening the guitar wail of the new sound garden, a 
tape that Jon just couldn't get enough of. "Sorry," 
Jon giggled, a little embarrassed. "It's hard to hear 
when the muffler really gets going."

The boy shrugged. "Oh, it's okay, I like sound 
garden."

"Oh...you know them?"

"Oh yeah, they're great."

<<I don't fucking believe this. This boy is perfect. 
His is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. 
He loves sound garden. I'm going to die tonight, I 
know it. This can only be the bliss before I go 
straight to hell...>>

"So where you live?" Jon asked the boy, who was 
perusing the tape case that was on the floor.

"You know where the Trumbo Theatre is?"

"Yeah, sure."


"By that. On Farcia Street."

"Oh, okay, I know where that is."

They didn't say much on the way to the boy's house 
(and besides, you want to get to the inevitable good 
stuff as much as I do). 

Tommy pointed. "There. that one."

"Okay." Jon pulled in the driveway and parked the 
Vega. He did not want to see this boy, this fucking 
masterpiece go in. That's when the boy opened his 
sweet lips and uttered the magic words...

"You wanna come in for a Coke?"

"Yes." Jon said, without hesitation and with extreme 
finality. Jon had jumped on that one.

The house was a typical mid-60's one-floor ranch, 
nothing spectacular. It smelled of simmering potpourri 
and dried flowers. "Smells nice in here," Jon 
observed, genuinely fond of nice smells. 

"Yeah, I guess. My mom burns that shit." 

Jon was a bit surprised at this kid's language. He 
figured he shouldn't be all that shocked, but perhaps 
it was his Catholic upbringing...

"No, really, it's nice."

"Yeah."

Tommy went into the kitchen, grabbed two Cokes, popped 
them open and gave one to Jon. Jon was aware of a 
strange quiet throughout the house. "Where is 
everyone?"

"Work." Jon said this nonchalantly. It was just a part 
of the every-day.

"Is it just you?"

"Yeah, me and my parents."

"Yeah, well then, who's this?" Jon asked, pointing to 
a picture on top of the TV that showed a smiling Tommy 
and a pretty girl, about the same age. 

Tommy sneered. "That's Ann, my girlfriend."

Jon's heart sank. <<...girlfriend...>>

"The bitch. I hate her. My mom makes me keep the 
picture up there."

"Why? Don't you like her anymore?"

"She just sucks, that's all."

Jon giggled a bit. You won't mind that in two years, 
he thought.

Tommy looked at the picture, the expression on his 
face turning a bit melancholy for a bit. "You got a 
girlfriend?" he asked.

"Used to."

"Yeah, I know, girls suck, eh?"

Jon laughed. "I guess."

Tommy's voice became an almost inaudible whisper. "Did 
you shuip?"

"Huh?"

"Shudoip?"

"Speak up, man, I can't hear you."

"Did you do it?"

"Oh!" And with that, Jon blushed, partly because he 
hadn't understood the kid in the first place, and 
mostly because he found something about that question 
so erotic, so... hot... that his penis began to 
stiffen in his jeans. Aw shit no not now He searched 
for an appropriate answer. Finally, he decided on the 
truth.

"No, I guess not."

Tommy giggled, sensing Jon's nervous state. "Are you a 
virgin?"

"Yep. Are you?" He loved it when boy's lied about 
their sex lives. He once talked to a nine year old who 
had done it "a million thousand hundred million" 
times. But this kid, once again, surprised him.

"Yeah, never done it, either."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Neither Jon nor 
Tommy knew what to say next. (I know all of you do, 
but shut up, and go back to jacking off!) It was Tommy 
who finally broke it. "Are you...um...you know..."

"What?"

"You got... you know..."

"No, I don't know... what?"

"You got puberty and all?"

Jon smiled. "You mean did I go through it?"

"Yeah." Tommy was blushing a bit, but he wanted this 
information, man, this was cool shit to him.

Jon was as straightforward and honest as he could be. 
"Yeah, pretty much I guess."

"You got hair and everything?" The kid wasn't 
struggling anymore. He was interrogating.

"Yeah."

"Do you, um, like make, uh, do you like get sperms and 
all that like?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that's kinda cool."

"I guess." It was now, Jon decided, his turn. "How 
about you?"

"About me what?"

"Puberty?"

"Nah, I don't got any hair or anything. It really 
sucks."

Jon toyed with the idea of spelling it out for this 
kid. "No, it doesn't. Being hairless is nice, kid. It 
really is."

"No it ain't! Most of my friends are already starting 
and stuff."

Jon found a trap in that. "How do you know?"

Dead silence. Tommy's eyes darted around, anywhere but 
directly looking at Jon's eyes. Jon knew what the boy 
would say before Tommy opened his mouth. And when he 
did, the exact words that Jon predicted came out, 
verbatim: "How do I know what?"

"About whether or not they've started puberty."

"Um... well..." Caught. "I guess we've kinda showed it 
too each other and all."

"You mean you compared your dicks?"

Tommy was beet red. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, man. Don't worry about it, it's cool." This last 
appeased the kid a bit, but not much. Jon was now so 
far into this conversation, he couldn't even tell you 
when he started playing everything out, when his mind 
switched into gear, sensing, feeling out the 
situation, playing every word like a chess piece. 

It was true, friends and neighbors, he had the gift he 
was born with, and he now for the first time began to 
flex muscles that had only been used for the purposes 
of fantasy. He wanted this boy, he was sure this boy 
wanted him, and it was all in the right moves.

"I guess," the boy said, and squirmed. Jon noticed the 
squirm. 

"Do you do it a lot?" Jon asked.

"With my friends?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes. When I sleepover and stuff."

"Do you get hard-ons and everything?"

"Yeah."

Jon had prepared for this move, and now with 
confidence, he executed it: "You got one now?"

"A what?"

"A boner."

Tommy smiled again. <<oh jesus look at that, he does, 
he fucking has a hard-on no fucking shit>> 

"I guess," the boy said. There was a pause, and then 
the boy asked, "Do you?"

Jon had fallen into a trap, but it was a trap he was 
happy to fall into. "Yep."

"Really?" The boy's face switched from slight shy 
embarrassment to genuine interest. "How big does yours 
get all the way hard and stuff?"

Jon blinked and kept his eyes closed long enough for 
this one thought. <<This is it.>> He slowly opened his 
eyes and said, softly, "You wanna see?"

The boy, without a moment of hesitation said, "Yeah!"

"Okay, but you have to show me yours, too."

"Oh, okay." The boy smiled again.

<<you bet your fucking ass he fucking loves this he's 
as hard as I am and goddammit this is fucking it jesus 
christ I don't goddam believe it I'm showing my dick 
to a boy and he's showing me his is this fucking cool 
or what>>

There was a rather long pause. Then, Jon stood up, and 
undid his pants, took down the zipper, and with one 
stroke, pulled down his jeans and underwear. He 
stepped out of his legwear and stood back up straight, 
giving the boy full view of this penis, a good sized 
dick for a guy his age, about six inches, with big 
balls that hung low and a mass of curly brown pubic 
hair. Jon thought his cock had never been this hard 
before.

"Wow," Tommy whispered. "Dude, it's huge..." And he 
swallowed.

Jon looked down at his own dick, which was throbbing 
slightly with his pulse. "It's okay, I guess. I've 
seen bigger in the shower at school. It's average, I 
guess. How about you?"

"Aw man, mine's all small."

"Come on, you gotta show me, now."

Tommy gulped again, never taking his eyes of the 
biggest dick he had ever seen. He had never even seen 
his own father naked. With grim determination, he took 
his sweatpants and underwear and pushed them to the 
floor. He revealed two smooth, hairless legs and a 
fine, up-pointing, circumcised cock about four inches 
long. His scrotum hugged close to his body. "See," he 
said, "it's puny and shit."

Jon was so euphoric he almost couldn't speak. "Dude... 
you're... perfect, man... you... you're so perfect..."

"Huh?" Tommy wasn't paying attention. His only focus 
was that monstrous prick three feet away. Finally, he 
look Jon in the face and asked, "Can I, um... you 
know..." An indicative motion of his hand.

"Touch it?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead, kid. It's all yours." Jon sat on the couch, 
his prick standing up proudly between his legs. The 
bottomless boy sat next to him and carefully, slowly, 
he touched the head, then wrapped his hand around the 
shaft. Jon laid his head back. His mouth was as dry as 
the Sahara. He asked Tommy, "You know how to jack 
off?"

Tommy nodded.

"You wanna do it to me? You can see my sperm and 
stuff."

"Really?"

"Go ahead."

The boy moved the skin up, then down. He looked at the 
skin cover the head, then uncover it, once, twice. 
With his free hand he tugged at his own penis, making 
sensations ripple all though his body. Tommy could 
hear the teenager's sharp intakes of breath with each 
stroke.

"Is it okay?" Tommy said, a bit apprehensively.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine, great," Jon sighed. "Do it a bit 
faster, like pretend you're doing it to yourself."

"Are you gonna shoot your sperm?"

"Pretty soon, kid, just keep going."

Tommy kept at the task at hand, watching the older 
boy's penis with a mixture of reverence and 
anticipation. His other hand moved away from his own 
penis and cupped Jon's large balls, kneading them. Jon 
ran his hand over the boy's thigh, brushing his little 
boner, making Tommy shudder. Jon took Tommy's penis is 
between his forefinger and thumb and began to stroke 
it lovingly. The boy swallowed.

Jon moaned. "Oh jesus..."

"Are you gettin' close?"

"Oh yeah."

Then Tommy did something neither had expected. Still 
working Jon's cock, he got up onto his knees and 
planted a thick wet kiss on the teenager's mouth. The 
boy's smooth torso rubbed against Jon's own, sending 
jolts of pleasure through him, directly to his cock, 
where the little hand was working ever faster, faster. 
Jon's arm wrapped itself around Tommy and hugged him 
close.

"Oh, Tommy...gettin' close... gonna come."

"Come on, Jon, shoot it!"

With Tommy's command, delivered in the boy's sweet 
unbroken treble, the semen came, in four thick healthy 
spurts. "Oh god, yeah! Oh fuck! Tommy! Oh god!" The 
sparkling juice landed everywhere: on Jon's torso, on 
the boy, one jet overshot them both and landed -- 
splat -- on the wall behind them. Jon's whole body 
convulsed with unbearable pleasure for what seemed 
like hours, but soon the feeling died down, and it 
subsided. All that was left was a panting teenager, a 
smiling boy, and lots and lots of sperm.

The boy removed his young hand from Jon's dick, and 
brought it close to his eyes so that he could examine 
the slick cum that was all over it. "Check... it... 
out..." he whispered. "I never seen anything like 
that, man. That was fucking cool!"

"Like that?"

"Dude, I didn't realize there was so much sperm, man!"

"Well," Jon said, petting the boy's silky hair, 
"there's always more when you're especially turned on. 
And kid, you turn me on, man."

Tommy once again broke into that killer grin. Then he 
surveyed the damage and grew thoughtful. "How are we 
gonna clean all this up?"

Jon laughed. "A towel will do nicely." Jon noticed 
that Tommy was still captivated by the sperm on his 
own hand. Jon had an idea. "Go ahead," he said. "Taste 
it if you want."

The boy's jaw tightened. "Is it all gross and shit?"

"No, it's kinda cool, actually."

That was enough for Tommy. He brought his hand to his 
mouth, and with a flick of his lips took a fair amount 
of Jon's healthy adolescent cum into his mouth. He 
paused thoughtfully, then finally concluded, "Tastes 
weird."

Jon stared at the boy, filled with this undeniable 
emotion. Was it love? Perhaps. He drew Tommy closer to 
him. Jon's eyes stared pleadingly. "Kiss me again, 
like you did."

And Tommy bent down and kissed him. Long. The boy 
wrapped his arms around Jon's neck and squeezed. The 
kiss downshifted to a hug, and eventually Jon was 
aware of something hard poking his leg. The little 
waist began to move.

"That feel good?" Jon asked, still running his hands 
up and down the boy's smooth, moving back.

Tommy whimpered. "Aw...yeah, it feels awesome."

"You almost there?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Jon sort of pushed the boy away. "Here," he said. "Sit 
down, spread your legs."

The boy did as he was told. Jon moved onto the floor, 
positioned himself between those perfect thighs, bent 
down, and took the boy's unbelievably rigid cock 
between his lips. The sensation sent a quake through 
the lusty boy, and he responded with a gasp. "Oh, 
god..."

Jon paused a moment. "Anyone ever done this?"

"Uh-uh, no. Oh, please do that again."

Jon smiled and went back to the little boner. Oh, the 
sweet taste and smell of a prepubescent boy. Reaching 
around, he cupped the boy's buttocks and lightly 
kneaded them. Tommy moaned. From this range, Jon could 
see everything. Not a hair, not one damn hair, and 
what a nice little cock! Oh, but the smell of the 
boy...so sweet, so...so like a boy. And Jon became 
aware of two hands wrapping themselves around his 
head.

"Oh, Jon, do that."

Jon could sense the passion and pleasure of the other 
boy and he sped up. His own cock had again become 
rigid, and with his right hand he began to work it in 
time with his mouth. The boy began to tense and 
tighten.

"Jon...I'm gettin there, man...it's gonna happen..."

Jon said nothing and kept working his mouth and his 
hand. In just a few seconds, the boy's pelvis thrust 
up, and he emitted such a wail, a high, cracking cry 
of triumph, that Jon knew it was a very powerful 
orgasm indeed.

"I'm coming! Oh god...Jon...Jon!...."

Hearing his name filtered through orgasmic bliss, Jon 
felt his own come rising again. He gasped against the 
boys cock and the sperm came, as much as before, 
powerful, fierce jets of adolescent sperm. When the 
wave broke, he looked up at the boy, who was smiling 
broadly. He looked the boy's smooth tummy, rising up 
and down, spotted with the evidence of Jon's last 
orgasm. 

Tommy whispered, "Dude... that was awesome."

"Did you like it?"

"It was the best come I ever had!"

"You jack off a lot?"

"Yeah. Like twice a day."

"You know," Jon declared, smiling "you can always come 
over my place if you want, you know, like, when my 
mom's not home. This don't have to be the last time."

Tommy smiled. "Yeah, I know. I will, believe me...that 
was the most awesome thing, man, ever. You are so 
fucking cool, man!"

Jon laughed. "Yeah, kid, and so are you."

The boys wiped themselves up and dressed, and 
eventually, after much cuddling, kissing and talking, 
Jon went home. He lay down on his bed, hands behind 
his head, and pondered everything. Jesus, what the 
fuck was that? I just had sex with a boy. I don't 
believe it. That's it. That's the last time.

But deep down he knew it wouldn't be. He wouldn't do 
that to Tommy... oh, hell, he wouldn't do that to 
himself. He knew the boy would be there tomorrow, and 
the next day. Tommy was his boy, and he was the boy's 
lover. 

And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

END

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 78