Chapter 10
Is he the one?

Thomas stood there, naked from the waist down, save from his socks. His hands by his side, giving me an unobstructed view to his groin. His cute little penis stood proudly erect like it was saluting me. I wanted it in my mouth, to bring pleasure to it and its owner. But I mentally grabbed myself by the neck and held back. I remembered all too well what had happened with both Casey and Henry. That they almost took advantage of me.

I didn't want Thomas to do the same. I wanted as much, if not more, out of it as he would get. And don't forget, he had called me a faggot in front of the entire class!

"If I suck yours, will you let me stick mine in your ass?" I asked him.

There's no need to beat around the bush.

"Will it fit?"

"Sure it will. You must've taken bigger shits than my dick?"

"We can try."

Damn!

I wasn't prepared for this. First of all, I never thought Thomas would let me fuck him, let alone him being back inside my room. Not after the faggot stunt he had pulled on me. But here he was. Pants off, smirk on his face. He only had to bend over and I could stick it in him.

Only I can't! I don't have anything to lube up his ass in my room.

I knew from my times with Henry that spit alone wouldn't work. Well, it did, but not for long. Certainly not long enough for what I had in mind. A long slow fuck, it would be okay for his first time, even better for me. I had to leave my room. We were luckily home alone and Thomas had no problem with me slipping into the bathroom. He just sat on my bed, half naked. I nearly ran to get the trusted Nivea cream and a roll of toilet paper. I feared Thomas would change his mind, get dressed and leave before I got back.

Instead I found him still on the bed with his feet on the floor but otherwise lying on his back.

"Come, lean over the desk," I told him and patted the top of it for emphasis.

He got up and put his upper body on the desk where I usually did my homework. I mean, the few times when I actually did my homework. Right next to my Amiga.

"Reach back and spread your cheeks," I told him while I slicked up my index finger with the cream.

As he spread his cheeks I took in the sight of his small pink rosebud. As of then, still virgin territory, but less than a minute later it would be full of dick. My dick. I was so ready for it. I got down on my knees behind him and put my right hand on top of his butt as to hold him steady. My left index finger approached the little dot on display. I gently pressed my finger at it and then ever so slowly into it. I felt the warmth from Thomas' bum heating up the cool cream.

His hole is so tight, too tight really.

"You gotta relax some."

"I'm trying!"

"Push out a little. Like taking a crap. Don't push too hard though."

I felt the hole give way to my finger a little easier. While I hoped I wasn't going to poke into a turd, I pressed slightly harder and by then my finger was about a centimeter inside. The nail had disappeared from sight for sure.

"How you doing?"

"Feels funny."

"Cool."

At least he didn't yell for me to get my finger out of his ass. Like Henry did.

I pulled it back a bit before building up a little pressure again. This time I only stopped when the first joint had disappeared inside of him. I could feel the strong muscle enclose my finger. It gave a slight spasm, but Thomas made no sound neither did he move. I kept the finger inside, didn't move it, just waited for him to get used to what little I had inside of him. I really didn't want it to hurt Thomas too much.

Not just for his sake, actually it was more for my own. I wanted to be able to do it again. My prick was so hard inside my pants it nearly hurt. After I had waited for an eternity, I pushed in to the second joint. Ever so slowly I twisted my finger from side to side and up and down, tried to stretch his tight enclosure just a bit more. I could feel the tip of my finger had entered past the muscle and was inside the void of his hot and moist rectum. He had a nice rectum.

"Okay, ready for two fingers?"

"Think so. It still feels funny."

I knew he meant it felt weird, but he was still game, which was more important to me. I slipped out my finger and quickly stuck the tip of my middle finger into the hole before it had a chance to shut me out. Placing my index underneath the middle finger, I pushed in some more. That's when I realized a butt hole isn't a true circle. It's more like an oval, with the widest part being the vertical side. As I pushed in my two fingers, it was like I had hit a switch.

His butt hole all of a sudden relaxed and I was able to push in both fingers to the hilt in his hot hole.

"Oooh," he gasped.

"Just a little more and you're ready for my dick."

"Yeah."

I struggled a bit to unbutton my pants, I'm a lefty, and unbuttoning stuff with my right hand is a trait I haven't really mastered. Getting frustrated, but not wanting to remove my fingers from where they were, slowly rotating and pushing in and out of Thomas' ass, I managed to push down my pants without undoing them. My underwear came down along with them. Getting them under and past my knees was more difficult as I was kneeling on them.

But where there's a will, there's a way. Pants and underwear off of one leg, I stood up behind Thomas. I scooped up a lot of cream with two fingers and smeared it all over my dick head. Holding on to my dick I shuffled even closer to him and made sure my dick lined up properly to his ass hole. My fingers were still fully embedded in his ass.

"I'm so gonna fuck you now."

"Okay"

Making sure everything was still aligned I quickly slipped out my two fingers and used both hands to guide my dick. I forced the head inside and past the ring muscle.

Jesus! What a feeling.

"Ow!" Thomas protested loudly to my stuffing his backside like that.

"Sorry. Easier on you like this. Trust me."

It wasn't easy to talk without moaning. I kept my dick exactly where it was and moved my hips to match Thomas' movements.

"It bloody hurts!"

"Try to relax. It'll be much better soon."

"Fuck!" He sounded like he was close to crying.

I massaged his butt cheeks while I enjoyed the hot tight elastic band of muscle pulsing around my dick head. It felt like it was being forced into another shape. Not hurtfully so, not to me at least.

"Take it out! Get your fucking prick outta me!"

Thomas was still cross with me. However, I chose to ignore him. I knew from firsthand experience if given enough time, your muscle will surrender and relax. Then, and only then, you'll be able to enjoy the sensation of being stuffed like a roast chicken. Or turkey, if you'd rather that.

It is one thing to know this and being able to explain it in detail using words you've picked up during 35 years of living. It's a whole different thing being thirteen, trying to convince your balls not to cum too soon while having a wriggly thirteen years old boy in front of you, one you have your dick stuffed into. Try to explain to him that he'll have the time of his life if he'll just settle down and wait for the pain to go away. I opted to just let him experience it for himself and held on to him like it was a matter of life or death.

Slowly he stopped thrashing about and his ass, although still mighty tight, was relenting its deadlock around my dick head. I gave him another full minute to calm down before asking if he was okay.

"Yeah, I still think you're a fuck head though. Damn, that hurt like hell!"

"Does it still hurt?"

"I feel like I'm taking the shit of my life."

I giggled at that, I knew exactly what he was talking about, I had felt the same way when Henry fucked me. I waited impatiently for another 30 seconds or so, then I pushed in more of my dick. Just a couple of centimetres [~1 inch] or so. And I only increased the forwards pressure just enough for it to slide slowly in.

"Ow! Damn, there's more of it?"

"Sorry, It's only the head's in you now."

"Fuck, I thought you had all of it in me."

"Oh no, not yet."

"Crap."

"I hope not," I said then withdrew until I felt the head was back at the muscle.

I pushed back in, slipped a little more inside which resulted in a gasp from Thomas and a low moan from me. Still going slowly, but not really pausing at either end anymore, I started to fuck my dick in and out of him. The cream made squishy sounds, I guess I had put too much on us. I couldn't remember hearing those sounds when Henry or Casey had fucked me. It sounded really gross, but it was too nice a feeling for me to consider stopping, even if only for the briefest of moments.

I had just gotten into a nice steady rhythm, which my dick really enjoyed, and a rythm I guestimated would be best for the long fuck I had in mind when Thomas farted.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"I do that too when I'm being fucked. Forget it."

"It doesn't hurt so much now."

"I know. Like it?"

"It's not really super fantastic. But I'll live."

"It feels pretty damn good to me."

"The desk is cutting into my hips."

"Sorry. We'll do it in my bed next time."

"Yeah."

Did he just agree to be fucked another time? Oh my. Score!

Out of curiosity I reached around his hip and sought out his dink. It was small and flaccid, like mine was when I got fucked. It quickly rose to the attention I gave it as I kept fucking his extremely tight and super hot ass. I didn't exactly jack it off, it would have taken more of my attention than I was willing to give. While I focused on keeping my dick thrusting in and out in slow, even strokes, I fondled and gently pinched his dink as I kept fucking his asshole.

I could do this for the rest of my life!

"Can I finish in your butt?"

Slowly approaching that point I thought it would be best to ask first. I wouldn't mind pulling out and sliming his butt cheeks and back, but I'd rather just do it inside of him. To claim him as mine. Or whatever I was thinking. Wouldn't it be great to be able to say: Hey, that's MY ass, I came in it as the first ?

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I'm gonna sperm in your butt."

"Yeah, I don't want it all over me."

I know, I know, always wear a rubber, that's what they told us in 7th grade. And you really should. But first of all, rubbers don't work with oily cream. Hey, that's what my teacher said! She said it would break down the rubber or something and tear the condom.

Secondly, Thomas was a virgin, and I hadn't had sex with anyone who had sex with anyone other than me. And you can't contract a sexually transmitted disease out of the blue. You had to have sex with someone who were already sick and I hadn't had that.

Well, I guess I don't really know about Tom, but fat chance of that. I doubt Karen lets him do anything to her.

Thirdly, I had tried wanking wearing a rubber I stole from my dad and either rubbers were just too damned large or my dick was still too small. It sure didn't fit very well.

The only real option was to just shoot off inside of Thomas. Which is just what I did after a couple more minutes of thrusting increasingly faster into him. I really slammed him quite hard in the end until just before I came. I couldn't keep going, it just felt so overwhelmingly good. No beyond good. So when I did cum, I was moving in irregular thrusts, until finally I felt it start to pummel out my dick. That's when I buried my dick all the way into Thomas' ass, in turn pushing him firmly up against the desk.

My dick didn't lose any of its hardness and I wasn't in any state to immediatelsy pull out. Even thinking of moving my dick sent panic signals to my brain.

If I move now, I'll surely die!

"Are you done?" Thomas asked in a strained voice.

"Yeah. Pheeew! That was fucking great. Thanks!"

"Get off of me! Please, you're crushing me."

"Sorry."

I carefully pulled my slowly wilting dick out of his by then even moister ass. I guess the proper wording would be cum-slicked creamy asshole. I sat on the bed, letting myself fall back to relax a bit. Thomas sat down more gingerly, after having wiped his ass with the toilet paper.

"Christ, you really messed me up back there."

"I know, fucking always seems so messy. But it feels so good," I said, and after examining my dick, "and no crap," I smiled at him.

"No, but it sure felt like I was going to shit myself."

"I'm so happy you let me do you in the ass."

"It fucking hurt when you stuck your dick in."

"Sorry for not telling you. If I had you wouldn't have let me do it."

"You're right."

"Do you regret it?"

"Dunno."

"Want to do it again?"

"What, now?" He looked at me as if I was crazy.

"Nooo, some later time, like another day?"

"Maybe. Gonna suck me now?"

"Yeah, alright."

I rearranged myself so I lay at an angle to his body with my head above his groin. His little morsel of a dink was sticking straight up, not really erect, but too little to be drooping like bigger dicks do when flaccid. I vacuumed it into my mouth and worked the foreskin down in the process.

"Fuck! That tickles like crazy."

I uh-huh'ed not letting go of his dick. It was quickly filling with blood making it stand like the little trooper it was. I opened my mouth wider and let his balls join the party. Lashing my tongue all over his dick and balls Thomas nearly ended up in fits of laughter. He reached for my head with both hands and tried to push me away, but I put my hands on top of his. I slowed down my tongue movement and spent time on his balls and he settled down somewhat.

Every now and then I'd let my tongue wander the distance from his balls to his dick and traced the ridges around his head, licked at his frenulum and at the same time his pee slit. It was hard not to lick at both at once. I thoroughly enjoyed having this bite-sized dick and balls in my mouth. If I had been between his legs, I could have held all of his junk in my mouth and you wouldn't have been able to tell if he was boy or girl.

Knowing Thomas would have to be on his way soon, I decided to stop toying with him. Even though both of us enjoyed it immensely we just didn't have the time to do it slowly that day. So I let his balls drop out of my mouth and firmed my lips up around his dick. Making quick short up and down movements with my head, while keeping my tongue firmly pressed against his dick head he soon cried out a cute little squeal.

He pushed my head into his groin, effectively mashed my nose into the side of his pubic bone and blocked my airflow. He held my head tight there while he went through his dry cum. It was only 15 seconds or so later when I could move my head and look up into a sweetly blushing face smiling tiredly down at me.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to make it home," he said.

"Want me to ride with you?" I offered.

"You'd do that?"

"Sure, it's only 4 km [~2.5 miles]. I'll take my race bike."

"Ok, just don't ride too fast. My butt is rather sore."

"It should be, it had a visit by the monster I have in between my legs."

We both chuckled at what I had said.

"It is big," he said. Well compared to his I suppose it was, "and nice."

"I like mine. I like yours too."

"It's so small it's pathetic."

"Hey, it'll grow bigger when it's time."

"I just wish it would start already."

As we were having this conversation we got dressed. Thomas put his underwear, padded with some toilet paper, and pants back on. I got into my bicycle pants and vest. When we walked into the garage, where mine and Tom's bikes were, I noticed my helmet on top of my saddle. I suddenly remembered the talk my dad had with me about always wearing that stupid thing when I took out my race bike, even if it was only for practicing or exercising.

At the time, bicycle helmets were nothing like todays helmets. And they weren't even mandatory for racing. Well for juniors they were, but not seniors. They weren't very safe either, only made from strips of leather, sometimes with metal inside the leather.

I quickly moved the helmet over to a shelf, where it could rot for all I cared. I made a mental note of making sure to put it back on the saddle when I got back home.

My dad actually wasn't just being an overly careful parent. A car hit me when I had been riding on the sidewalk in the wrong direction of traffic, on the way home from the library. I fell off my bike, but only got a chafed knee and a bruised elbow. The way my dad droned on and on about traffic safety and crap, you'd think I had almost gotten myself killed. Heck, I took worse when some idiot kid crashed into me in a sprint in one of the few races I've been in. But I had been wearing my helmet then.

So helmet-less but otherwise properly attired I escorted Thomas home. It was about 5 PM when I left his house after he had quickly shown me his room. Feeling really happy and excited, I decided to take a detour back home. I went by a route I knew to be around 15-16 km [~10 miles] and one I should be able to easily complete in less than 45 minutes. I knew I could do up to 50 km/h [~30 MPH] on my bike, though that was only for a very short time, going downhill and with the wind in my back. But to ride at 20 km/h [~12 MPH] for 45 minutes was easy-peasy on my race bike.

I got home without any accidents and put my bike in the garage, forgetting all about the helmet. I debated with myself if I should take a shower before dinner or take a bath after eating. I had worked up a bit of sweat during my bike ride, probably also from the in and out action I had with Thomas. Just thinking back to that now, stills make me hard. It was the first time I had fucked someone. And I mean I had thoroughly fucked Thomas.

Okay, when I think of the times with Casey and Henry, I can get hard too. But that first time when Thomas let me fuck him is even more special to me.

I ended up spending an hour and a half in the bathtub after dinner. I kept draining some of the water as it cooled and topped off with hot water. Yeah, I looked like a wet prune when I got out, but damned if I didn't have a great sleep that night.

Chapter 11
Vacation in Yugoslavia

Mentioning looking like a prune, reminds me of one of the family summer vacations where we went to Yugoslavia. I was only eleven years old then, so I'm jumping a bit in time, please bear with me. It isn't as if I'm telling you my story in chronologic order anyway. Back then I had only recently started sucking off Casey and getting sucked by him.

Well, picture this: you've been given this really awesome game. You play with it all of the time for about six weeks, getting to know a lot of the secrets of how to play it well. Because you've learned how to really play it, the game only gets more fun and exciting to play. Then your mom takes the game away from you. Out of the blue and for no reason at all. She says you can have the game back three weeks later and to just go play with something else in the meantime.

What a letdown right? Well, that's pretty much the way I felt, when I was told we were going to Pula for three weeks during the summer. I was actually taken out of school two weeks early, so I missed the end-of-year school play and got a prolonged holiday of 9 weeks.

It did save me from making a fool of myself, as I had been selected by my teacher to be some character who played a silly song on a viola. If there's anything I absolutely can't do it, it is playing music and singing. Well I can sing, however I think it's only my mom who thinks I'm any good at it. But, other than missing the play, I couldn't see anything thrilling about going away for three weeks.

What's my poor dick to do? I just know I'll be missing Casey so much all of the three weeks!

He wasn't even there to wave me off. We left in the middle of the night to drive to the ferry-crossing between Denmark and Germany. I can't even remember how I got in the car. I remember I went to sleep in my bed and then I woke up in the back of the car as the sun rose somewhere over the state of Holstein in Germany. I had even slept through the one hour long ferry ride. I was comfy though. The backseats had been turned down and both me and Tom lay with our legs in the boot of the car.

Tom was gently snoring on his side of the car, though if you ask me, he was trespassing a bit onto my side, but I let him be just that one time. I had scooted my body more to the front of the car so I could sit up and look out the window, when I discovered I was wearing underwear and a vest. I had stopped wearing anything at night by then, certainly I would never have worn a vest to bed at the age of 11, so I knew I had been out cold when we had left home.

My parents has literally kidnapped me!

That was worth a silent snigger or two.

I quickly decided the scenery wasn't really worth watching, I mean if you've once had a look out the window while driving on a freeway, you've pretty much seen it all. Besides, I had more pressing issues at hand. More precisely my bladder was acutely sending distress signals to my brain. I looked over my shoulder to see if my mom was awake. Yeah, I was sitting up against the back of her seat, in my bed made from an old foam mattress.

"Can we pull over?" I asked her.

"Can you hold it for another 30 minutes?"

I have no idea how she knew that was why I wanted my dad to stop the car. She just knew, but I wasn't too happy with her question.

Sheesh, my bladder is full now. It'll burst soon!

"No. I gotta go now. Like right now!"

"How far is the next rest stop?" She asked my dad. Yeah, you didn't think she'd ask me that question right?

"We've just passed one. The next one is where we're stopping for breakfast."

"I gotta go now! I swear, I'll piss all over the car," I was getting desperate.

"Teddy! Language," my dad warned me.

"Sorry, but it is really urgent."

So my dad did a cool and very illegal stunt. He pulled over on the hard shoulder of the freeway and I darted out of the car the second it stopped, wearing only underwear and that silly little-boy's vest. I quickly scaled the crash barriers and right on the other side of them I pulled out my dick and let go of a strong stream of darkish yellow pee. Normally I was extremely pee shy, but right then I had forgotten all about it and couldn't care less of who was able to see me.

Back in the car we drove on to the rest stop where our usual holiday breakfast place was. Standing in the open door of the car getting dressed was nothing out of the ordinary for us boys. Well, it didn't use to be anyway. Tom got dressed inside the car, even if it was a lot harder than to just step outside and get your clothes on where you could stretch your arms and legs. I got dressed a lot quicker than him and we all had to wait for him to get done.

After breakfast and back in the car I tried closing my eyes to see if I could nod off. That only made my thoughts wander and Casey kept popping into them. Mostly the memories of how his mouth felt on my dick. So now I was sitting in the back seat of a car in slow-moving traffic on the German Autobahn, feeling horny and couldn't do much anything about it. I found the duvet I had slept with during the night and put it over my lap.

***

I knew I couldn't jack off for real, but I could at least sit and pinch my boner and slowly work the foreskin up and down. And that's what I did. Not even Tom noticed me and he was sitting less than a meter [~3 feet] away from me. He was listening to loud music on his Walkman, I could hear some of it too. My parents were talking to each other, but with all of the windows open, I couldn't hear a word they were saying. Probably they talked about the traffic or something boring like that.

So I kept pinching my boner. Two hours later my fingers were getting tired and my boner was more than just a little red. Besides my bladder was once again about full. I had a lot of orange juice at breakfast and had sipped on three cans of Coke in the car, while I had played with my boner. But it was almost time for our next stop anyway. My boner went away quickly after I stopped torturing it, but returned when the sensations from my bladder got stronger.

I didn't want to pee standing next to the car again, so I held it until we at long last made it to the rest stop where we'd have lunch. When I got a 10 pfennig coin [About a nickel] for the toilet, my bladder hurt quite badly. I had a real hard time getting started once I was finally situated in front of the toilet.

I had just begun worrying I had somehow broken it, when pee finally started to drip out. Soon after the stream gushed out. Satisfied yet again, I solemnly swore to myself that I'd never hold onto my pee for so long ever again.

We ate lunch, then was back on the roads until around 4:30 PM, when my dad drove us to a caravan site. We only stayed one night, so he didn't unhitch the caravan, didn't even want to pay for electricity so we had to suffice with the 12 volts from the car and caravan battery. We only needed power for the lamps and water faucets that ran on 12 volts anyway.

We had dinner at the caravan site restaurant and after a bit of playing board games we went to bed early. I slept in the top bunk bed in the rear of the caravan, Tom had claimed the lower bunk, but it was fine with me. It meant he had to make his bed every day. My parents slept at the other end of the caravan. I was tired from the many hours in the car and fell asleep quickly. I'm sure the long time I spent in one of the cubicles in the toilet building prior to going to bed had something to do with it too.

Let's just say I wasn't particularly horny when I returned to the caravan.

***

On the road again the next day, I had found one of the novels my parents had brought for them to read and I started reading it. It was actually quite good, much more interesting than the stupid books written by adults for children. There were words I couldn't understand the meaning of, but then my dad got activated too. When I came across a word that made no sense to me, I'd ask him what it meant, and he'd take his time to find a word I knew to explain it to me.

By the third day, we finally made it to Pula. The caravan site was very large and it was bustling with activity. My parents had booked a plot for us to place the caravan and a tent which attached to the side of it. It made the indoor space twice as big as it was without it. While my parents and Tom were busy getting the caravan to sit just right by putting logs and stuff under the wheels to raise it, I went exploring. A great thing about these caravan sites is there's always something to do.

And there were always a ton of other kids to play with. Rarily anyone from Denmark, but it was kind of more fun to play with kids from other countries anyway. The language barrier wasn't annoying to me, rather it made for some hilarious moments trying to explain or to figure something out by hand signals or drawing in the sand. At eleven, I had only been learning the German language for a year in school. I didn't understand English very well back then, as we were only going to start learning it after the summer.

It meant I only had a very rudimentary knowledge of German other than Danish, which I spoke fluently. Danish can only really be understood by Danes, and I must admit I have trouble understanding some of the Danish dialects. My German was just about enough to order French fries with ketchup and a coke. I could say 'My name is Teddy' and simple stuff like that too, but my shyness and insecurity meant I was more comfortable playing with someone without having to talk with them.

***

When we had been in Pula for a couple of days, I was by myself at the beach, playing in the sand and building a large sand castle. My parents were back at the caravan and Tom was nowhere in sight, which for me was good. I was a pretty decent swimmer and the water was quite shallow and kid friendly. There were no real waves to speak of for at least 200 meters. The water only just started getting a little deeper out at that point.

As I was concentrating on getting the details exactly right on part of the wall of the castle, something suddenly blocked the sun. When I looked up I saw a boy looking down at me. He was about my age, maybe a year younger, but more importantly he had tools in his hand. A decent sized bucket and a good plastic shovel. So I invited him to help me build the sand castle.

While we built it, I learned his name was Jeroen and he was from Holland. He knew even less German than me, though he spoke nearly perfect English, not that it mattered much as I still couldn't understand what he said. We didn't need to communicate verbally to have a great time together that first day, however.

Over the next two weeks, we talked more and more in a mix of Dutch, German, English and Danish, and we got to understand each other quite well too. We learned more about each other, including the private places on our bodies. The latter wasn't until after nearly a week of daily playing with him, and it happened when we both had to pee at the same time. We went to one of the toilet buildings at the caravan site, the closest one to the beach, which wasn't the one I usually used.

Just inside there was a fairly long trough, but neither he nor I felt comfortable peeing into one of those. Instead, we went further into the building to where the toilets were. We split up, doubling our chances of finding a vacant cubicle, as he went to the left and I to the right. I soon saw an open door and thinking it meant the cubicle was vacant, I just walked in while turning my head to tell Jeroen to come to me.

And I nearly stepped on this little cute fellow standing there with his skimpy bathing suit around his ankles and wearing an oversized cowboy hat.

Okay, he must have been about 5 or 6, so I didn't exactly step on him, but I did bump into him. When I realized there was someone in there already, I quickly backed out while excusing to him. And then Jeroen came over and had a look inside the cubicle too. The little boy had by then finished peeing and actually turned around facing us, before he squatted down and pulled up his little suit. He left flashing us a toothy smile and a small wave.

Jeroen and I both bustled into the stall, locked the door and broke into giggles, the little boy had just been so fun. Since we were where we were, and we both had unfinished business to attend to, and I had gotten comfortable around Jeroen, we peed over cross into the toilet. That was fun too. When I had finished and was about to put away my stuff he stopped me. He looked at me with his eyebrows raised and nodded while pointing at my dick. That was one of our ways of asking for permission.

I smiled at him and nodded my head too. He took my dick in between two of his fingers and carefully rolled my foreskin back. I was still soft, though not for long. When my dick was fully erect he let go of it, smiled at me again and thrust his hips towards me. His dick was inflating without manipulation, but I managed to grab hold of it before it turned into a full-fledged stiffy. I skinned his foreskin back, like he had done to mine, but I didn't stop at that. I began slowly wanking his dick.

He looked at me quizzically. I didn't stop what I was doing, I just smiled at him and thrust my hips towards him as he had done. He smiled and took hold of my dick again. We stood there in the little cubicle and just slowly wanked each other. It felt super great to have another person's fingers on my dick again. I wondered if he would be up for more and I caught his attention by snapping my fingers once. he had been watching my fingers wank his dick.

When he looked me in the eyes, I raised my eyebrows, pointed at his dick and stuck my finger in my mouth. At first he didn't get what I meant, but then he stared wide-eyed at me and cocked his head. Like he asked me if I was serious. I nodded and when he enthusiastically nodded back, I quickly sat on the toilet. Sucking this Dutch dude was great, it was in complete silence as the toilet building was quite busy and the cubicle really didn't have much to offer in privacy.

It had a door, but it was just a thin board of tree or maybe plastic, about 180 cm [6 feet] high, sat with a 20 cm [8 inches] gap from the floor and an even greater gap from the top to the ceiling. And the side walls were like that too. So we could hear other people talking from time to time. Fortunately, no one took a dump in either of the cubicles next to us. I'm not sure I would have enjoyed it as much if I had to suck off my holiday friend in a stench of you-know-what.

He reached his peak quickly, much quicker than Casey for sure, and I wasn't even trying super hard to get him to pop. It seemingly just happened out of the blue even catching him by surprise. Other than a few sharp intakes and exhales of air, which might have come from someone having a hard time going, nothing came out of him.

But he tensed up like I used to do myself, so I knew he had the great feelings. As the good friend he was, he returned the favor. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in willingness. And just having a warm mouth around my dick again was enough to bring me off real quick too. When we were done, we flushed the toilet as if we had only just finished peeing and left the building after washing our hands. We held hands as we skipped along the narrow road towards the beach searching for new adventures.

***

The next day we played on the beach and in the water all morning and almost missed lunch. We only wore a speedo style swimming costume which gave Jeroen a super tan. I, with my reddish blonde hair and fair skin, ended up with second degree burns on my neck and shoulders. I didn't realize just how badly I got burnt until years later when I took an extended first aid course during my time in the National Guard. I had water-filled blisters that my mom, under much protesting and crying from me, punctured with a sewing needle. It was worst when I went to bed and it took ages before I finally managed to fall asleep.

The next day, I was allowed to go out only if I wore a sun hat and a white shirt with long sleeves. I was to stay in the shade and was forbidden to go anywhere near the beach and certainly wasn't to go swimming. An hour later I was happily frolicking in the water, though I was still wearing the shirt and hat, with Jeroen. I'm not sure as to how we ended up in the water, it just seemed to happen.

My parents threw a fit when they came to the beach and saw me in the water. But the salty sea water actually did wonders to my burns. The blisters went away and just left my skin red as a boiled lobster and a couple of days later it began peeling in large bits of dead skin. It wasn't very nice and it itched! Though it wasn't as bad as when I got the measles.

Tom was worse off than me, he really got burnt too, no blisters like me though. He had fallen asleep in a sun bed listening to his Walkman. My dad took him to a medical center, where the doctor gave him an injection in his butt. Tom complained of the injection having been extremely painful, I just thought it was hilarious he had to get a shot in his butt for a sun burn. And I could tease him for it without the fear of him hurting me, our parents were quick to stop us before things got too far out of hand.

Jeroen and I only sucked each other two more times during the rest of our vacation in Pula, both times in a cubicle in that toilet building. We, my parents and me, went to see stuff, like old ruins and a bloody huge waterfall. Well, it's probably nothing compared to Niagara Falls or the ones at Lake Victoria in Africa, but I haven't been near any of those. There's this poster-sized photo of me, sitting on a boulder with the waterfall in the background, hanging in my parents' house to this day.

It's by far the largest photo they have and I like to say that it's because they love me the most. Of course Tom is always quick to say it's only really the waterfall they wanted a large picture of. Which I'm fully aware of, it just feels great to say they love me more. I have some scans of me from that time, also the picture of me and the waterfall, and it reminds me of the happier times when I look at them.

As it turned out, I didn't really get to miss Casey all that much during that vacation after all.

Chapter 12
Thomas, Henry, yet another boy, and a… girl?!

Like it was with Henry, Thomas and I weren't having sex every day. He just lived too far away from me, but I got by. Mostly because I was still having sex with Henry. It was a bit like a rotation schedule. One day I had sex with Thomas, the next with Henry and then back to Thomas. Sex with Thomas was however far better than it ever was with Henry. I still felt like Henry was mostly using me just so he could get off, but I had my reasons for letting him continue to fuck me.

His dad was a pilot in the Airforce, not a fighter pilot, a cargo plane pilot. But a pilot all the same. You know those big C130s? With the four turbo prop engines? Kind of looks like an oversized bus with wings and a massive tail? That's what Henry's dad piloted. He was my source of new games for the Amiga. Not directly, it wasn't like I asked Henry's dad to buy me games, I mean, I'd never be able to afford one, but he bought games in the states or in the UK and gave them to Henry.

Henry would then make copies of them for me, well that is, if he could be bothered to do so.

I guess that kind of makes me a prostitute, but at the time it really worked out well. It wasn't like I was being hurt. I mean, yes, it was uncomfortable when he'd jam-pack his dick into me and for the first few minutes while my ass would slowly adjust to having a hard dick inside it. After that, it didn't hurt.

I just never got much out of it myself. Just when I was starting to enjoy his dick hitting my prostate every now and then, sending jolts of happiness through my body, he'd finish, always pushing into me like he wanted to see if he could get his dick to poke out through my stomach.

It left me hot and bothered. Sometimes I'd jerk myself off later after Henry had left my house, which happened within ten minutes after he had shot his sperm in my ass. I've always thought, if only he'd fuck me for a few more minutes. Maybe then, I would've gotten an anal orgasm. I never asked him to make it last longer, I just didn't understand at the time that the bottom guy has as much to say as the top, if not more.

At least not when I was the bottom. I want to think I was better at being a top than Henry was. Caring more for Thomas, or any of the other boys and guys I've been with over the years, than Henry did for me. Okay, I know that my first time with Thomas was a bit rough, maybe I could have slowly slipped my dick into him, instead of jamming the head into him. It was my first time though and he had been a jerk to me. I think that counts as an excuse for my actions.

Anyway, sex with Thomas was much more than it ever was with Henry. Not just because our sessions were longer, but I actually got to fuck, and eventually get fucked by Thomas, when his dick finally did grow larger. That didn't happen for the first 7 or 8 months, but when it finally started, it seemed to be in a rush. Almost every time we got together, it seemed to have grown a little bit bigger. Once started, it didn't stop growing until it had reached the 18 cm [7 inches] mark on the ruler we used to measure it with.

My dick had started growing at an early age and stopped growing much too soon for my liking. Sadly it never got any longer than 15 cm [~6 inches]. Now, I'm not too disappointed with its size, although at times I wouldn't mind having a few more cm to play with. Thomas was just happy it wasn't bigger back then when I fucked him.

***

When Thomas and I wanted to have sex, usually we'd meet in front of the public indoor swimming pool, Thomas rather enjoyed the chlorine taste and smell on my dick when we were 69ing. I guess it made it seem more hygienic to him. So we'd meet there, outside the ticket office, then go in and shower. There was one life guard in particular who was really strict and made sure we used the sponge with soap everywhere. He'd watch and tell the unhappy kids to do it over, if they hadn't spent enough time washing themselves.

He was especially adamant about us kids soaping up our dicks and ass. Back then, I didn't think anything other than him being real bossy and quite an asshole. But now as I write this and can look back at it with the knowledge I have today, I can't help but wonder if he was actually perving on the boys going to the swimming pool. Back then, in the middle of the 1980s, there just wasn't the same focus on pedophiles as there is today.

Inside the pool, Thomas and I would frolic in the water, playing and splashing each other. We'd see who could swim the furthest under water, who could collect the most items from the bottom in the deep end. And dive off the 1m diving board, making the most water splash out of the basin. But we also swam in between each other's legs.

Thomas got brave one day and pulled his dick out of his swimwear when I swam underneath him.

When I surfaced we giggled like little boys and then he dared me to do it as well when he'd swim in between my legs. When I did, he caught me completely off guard and sucked on my dick briefly before resurfacing. Not to be outdone by him, I did it to him too. We only did it once, as we quietly discussed the risks of being caught either by one of the life guards or someone wearing swimming goggles. We sure didn't want that to happen.

But we had both gotten horny and decided to cut our swimming a little short and go home to me to finish what we had started.

In my room we dropped our pants and underwear while avoiding looking at each other. I'm not sure why we didn't want to look at each other, where this sudden shyness came from. We both wanted it, but didn't want to seem too eager about it. I was the shy guy normally, the more passive one, but with Thomas I usually had to be the one who made the first move. Like when I had taken off my pants that very first time we did anything.

Yet again when I had to tell him to shuck his pants the second time we were together, when I fucked him. Sweet memories. But I always had to work up the courage to tell him what to do. Don't get me wrong, I didn't have to spend minutes, but it just didn't come naturally to me. Not like when I had ordered him to take off his pants.

This time, I asked him to get on the bed on his side all the way up against the wall, so I could lie in front of him. His head close to my groin and mine to his. At least he didn't need to be told to start sucking, but he didn't start until I had started sucking his dick.

We sucked for a long while, I got him off once and after he came down from his peak, I resumed sucking him. I didn't try to suck him to another dry cum, just wanted to keep him horny. I nearly shot into his mouth but decided to pull my dick out before I came.

"I really wanna fuck you." I told him.

"Uh, okay then"

"Turn and face the wall… No, not like that… Wait, let me."

I pulled on his hips so he moved back a little. He had pretty much tried to hug the wall.

***

I had finally decided to get a tin of cream for myself. Well, I told my mom my hands were dry and asked if she would get some for me. She did say something about her cream disappearing quicker lately, to which I could feel my ears burning. I don't think she noticed or maybe she was just too polite to say anything about it. Though, knowing my mom, she so would have used it against me and have fun at embarrassing me.

Well, at least I had my own cream in my room. Cream and a roll of toilet paper. The paper for when I had to blow my nose, officially. I think both my dad and mom knew what I really used the paper for. Well, I suppose they at least thought it was to wipe off sperm from my dick. They didn't know about my fucking around with my friends back then. I know as I asked them when I told them I'm gay, something neither of them had suspected, but they've never made a big deal out of me being gay.

I think at least my dad thought the toilet paper was for wiping my dick after I wanked, he had after all been a boy himself back when dinosaurs were still walking and he has probably done his fair share of wanking too. At 13 years of age I knew my parents had sex together, I just didn't want to think of it. I knew there was a reason for why my dad kept condoms in a drawer next to their bed. And a lot of them too, now that I think of it.

***

I got the cream and the toilet paper handy, had Thomas lift up his right leg so his butt cheeks separated. By now I knew just how much or rather how little cream I needed to make his butthole slippery enough to accept my dick inside. I took some time working cream into his still tight hole, though he had slowly learned how to relax it for me.

It seemed to be easier for him every time my dick greeted it. His hole always held up a brief fight like it wanted to tell me that although it wanted me to fuck it properly, I still had to demonstrate just how much I wanted it. Thomas seemed to enjoy me slowly finger-fucking him, he actually moaned quietly every time I spread the cream over the outside of his hole.

If we were only 69ing, he would often come out of his shell and ask me to please caress his hole.

But this time, I wanted more than to just play with his hole. So did Thomas, at least he knew he was in for more than just my finger playing outside his lower regions. If he didn't he surely knew it by the time I slipped the tip of my middle finger in him. And didn't stop at that but slowly pushed it all the way inside of him in one continuous move. I removed my middle finger and put in my thumb instead.

"Ugh, what is that?" He asked in surprise.

"Just a finger."

"That's much bigger than a finger."

I had my thumb pretty far inside of him, almost to the point where all of it was in. If you look at your own hand and spread out your thumb you can see it gets wider real fast where it attaches to the hand. That was just about where the outside of his sphincter was located right then.

"It's my thumb," I explained.

"I don't care what it is, it hurts."

Damn!

I took out my thumb and put in the usual two fingers instead.

"Better?"

"Different. Not as bad."

"Great. Now shut up and enjoy," I told him, but in a friendly, near giggling voice.

"Aye sir."

After that he actually did keep his mouth shut. Sure he was breathing audibly and at times moaning softly too, just like I did when I finally replaced my fingers with my dick. But, I managed to fuck him and flood his asshole with the slime from my balls without any of us saying anything else. Well, I didn't flood his ass, I'm not a fucking porn star that pumps out a pint of cum. But I did leave a healthy deposit as far inside his core as I could shoot it.

***

At times when we were at the pool, there was this two years younger kid who played with us. He was the backdoors neighbor of Casey's, so I knew who he was, had talked and played a bit with him earlier. And sometimes, when Thomas couldn't go swimming, I'd just go by myself. Usually the younger kid was there too, so I'd play with him. No, not the naughty kind of play. Just the normal kid stuff.

Although, he did once point out the cock of an old man in the showers to me, whispering something about how wrinkly and hairy it was. We had just left the sauna and were going to shower before getting back into the pool. When he made me aware of the old man's cock, I felt a massive boner starting to firm up. I had to quickly go hide in a toilet stall. Luckily the handicap stall was vacant and I got in there before anything got too obvious. I wasn't about to go into the shower, naked, all boned up. I was much too shy to pull a stunt like that.

Particularly with a grownup in the room. Probably he wouldn't have said anything, but I wasn't brave enough to test that theory. So, instead I was in the handicap stall. The kid knocked on the door and asked what I was doing. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to us, I opened the door and showed him my boner. He giggled at me, but quickly walked into the stall with me. We didn't do anything but snigger loudly while waiting for the damn thing to go soft.

I never got into any sex stuff with this kid. I tried a few times, but he just wasn't interested. I did notice him doing stuff to one girl in particular in the pool. He would covertly, actually cowardly, sneak up behind her and poke a finger inside her vagina. I saw it when he lent me his goggles for that exact purpose. He quickly got his finger wiggled in underneath her swimsuit and actually inside her vagina! I just couldn't believe my eyes.

Of course the poor girl was furious with him for doing it. But he had done it before and kept doing it to her. Until the day I told him I'd kick his ass if he didn't stop it. Yeah, fat chance of me ever fighting anyone and walk away as the winner when I was a kid. I said it to him and by pure coincidence we were near the girl and she heard what I told him.

Suddenly I was kind of like a hero to her eyes. It wasn't planned, I swear. I didn't even want anything to do with girls.

Jessica was twelve and didn't have a boyfriend. But she wanted one and now I was the boy she wanted. She persuaded me to come to her house after swimming. To say I was nervous, well, that won't cut it. I had no idea what girls were into and not sure what a boy and a girl would do while hanging out. Sure, I knew of sex, but surely that wasn't the only thing you could do. I'm not sure if I actually believed girls only played with dolls.

But I literally had no idea what all this boyfriend/girlfriend thing would entail. She treated me to lemonade and some biscuits and we sat on her bed Indian style in front of each other. Not too close of course, we had the tray between us. We just sat there talking about that obnoxious kid, then about school. She went to a different school than mine so we compared them to each other. Time passed quickly and before I knew it, I was getting late for dinner.

I had to be home before 6 PM sharp, not a second later, but I knew it was much too late for that. Jessica lived close to Thomas, and there was just no way in a million years, I'd be able to ride 3.5 km [~2 miles] in under 5 minutes. To make matters worse, she wanted to see me off with a kiss. Yes, a kiss! The very thing I had so desperately wanted since I was old enough to know what it was. But I wanted my first proper kiss to be nothing short of perfect.

My teeth weren't clean, I had to skip the morning toothbrush session because I had overslept. And I didn't think Jessica would enjoy kissing anyone with fur on his teeth. I tested with my tongue and flat out rejected the thought of even trying to kiss her.

"Sorry, I'm really late! My mom will spank my bum if I'm late for dinner. We can kiss some other time?"

"You better make sure you use a condom when you're having sex," I heard a deep voice coming from within the house.

"Why do you always have to ruin everything?" Jessica shouted angrily and shut the door.

Shit! That was embarrassing! Who was that? Her dad or older brother?

I took off in a run pushing my bike beside me.

Well, Jessica wasn't the one I'd get my first proper kiss from. She didn't want to talk to me after that, always left the pool and went to the female shower area when I tried to approach her. So I put her out of my mind.

I made it home by 6:04 PM and by overdoing my apology for being late, didn't get into trouble. My parents just thought it cute I was so worried. I never told anyone about what happened between Jessica and me, and the kiss that never happened, not until now.

***

What I didn't tell anyone about either, is the fact I was fiercely bullied by some boys in the year above mine at school. I won't go into the dreaded details now, but they really made my time in school tougher than it had to be. I was already bored at school. The stuff the teachers said we had to learn didn't really interest me. Due to the lack of interest, I found it hard to grasp some subjects. Even basic mathematics was a struggle for me. Which, later on, really proved to be a major disadvantage, as my real interest was computers.

Computers and electronics. I don't think that should come as a big surprise to you, since I've talked about the crap I had at home. However, programming or writing code, was something I started doing when I was nine. Nothing major, I'm not Bill Gates after all. I began by simply typing code examples from books written in English. Which I didn't understand at all. It meant I had to type in all of the code and then run it to see what would happen.

Soon it wasn't enough for me to just strictly type the code from the books. I started changing bits and pieces, in the beginning just a single digit or character to see what that would do. I've since forgotten a lot of what I did back then, having written code in a lot of different languages over the years. I never became one of the top programmers because I didn't pay enough attention to my math teachers back in school. I almost flunked technical college because of it.

But, due to the bullying and the school work getting increasingly harder to comprehend, I started skipping school. At first, just one class, then half a day. Gradually I skipped entire days, half a week. In the end, before I got bust, I'd maybe go to school one single day out of a week. The teachers asked about my absence when I actually was in school. I told them I'd been sick. When they wanted to hear that from my parents, I faked my mom's handwriting and wrote a letter I gave to my teacher.

No, it wasn't just a letter saying "Sorry for me not having been at school, I've been sick, regards, Teddy's mom," I put a lot of effort into it and it sounded pretty convincing to me. And my teacher actually believed it was my mom who had written the letter.

My parents eventually received a letter by mail from the school, summoning them to a meeting with the vice principal. And I had to come too. I was terribly nervous and tried everything I could so I wouldn't have to go. But to no avail. The vice principal explained that due to my massive absence that year, they wanted me to take 9th grade all over again. They weren't confident of me being able to catch up to the rest of the class.

It was the middle of November. School had started in the first week of August, and I'd been in school for a grand total of 21 days. My dad tried reasoning with the vice principal, talked about getting a tutor or something, but he wasn't convinced. If I was to stay at that school, there'd be no exams for me that year, but would have to go into one of the new 9th grades next year. That was kind of a problem as I had started school a year later than normal.

Something about me not being ready for school, I was speech impaired and not 100% potty-trained at age six, and wasn't able to sit still for any period of time.

My dad didn't want me to retake that year and he pulled me out of school. Right there and effective from that very day. I was both excited and downcast.

No more bullying, but what now?

The life I had gotten used to was going to be replaced by something completely unknown to me. And it scared the shit out of me!

Chapter 13
End of life?

When we returned back home from the meeting, I was sent to my room. I was grounded and I couldn't remember the last time that had happened. I wasn't to leave my room except for going to the toilet, and even that I had to ask permission for. My parents were to have a long discussion of what to do with me.

Tom's right. I really am no good.

After three and a half hours, most of which I spent crying softly into my pillow, my mom knocked on my door and told me to come to the kitchen.

I walked the short distance like a convicted man walking to his execution. I tried to keep myself composed, but it was hard to stop the waterworks. And my nose was running like crazy.

I've always hated crying. It's something that just can't be controlled. I liked being in control, when I could. Which wasn't often. I've gotten better at just letting go, I've realized crying is just another emotion like being happy is. That being able to show emotions is a force, not the opposite. Back then, I always heard crap like big boys don't cry. My bullies in school loved making me cry, probably part of my resentment towards it.

Anyway, my mom sat down next to me when I sat at the dining table and she hugged me. That's when I really started bawling. My dad just sat there, he wasn't mad at me, at least it didn't look that way. He had a worried look on his face though. I saw all that in a glimpse of a second before casting my eyes down.

"Teddy, listen to me," he said loud enough for me to hear through my crying, but he wasn't yelling at me, "Your mom and I aren't mad at you. Maybe a little disappointed in you, but we're not mad. No. no… Teddy! I'm not trying to make you feel any worse than you are. Try to stop crying. I have something very important to tell you."

I tried to stop crying, I really did. I couldn't though. Every time I thought I had succeeded yet another sob or hiccup forced its way out of me, restarting the whole thing.

"Okay, Teddy. Just pay attention to what I say. Can you do that, even while crying?"

"Ye-es," I acknowledged him.

"Good. Mom and I have been talking this over. We don't think it's wise for you to go back to school here in this town. We don't know why you haven't been to school. No, Teddy, don't get more upset. We're not asking for you to explain it to us."

He got up from the chair on the other side of the table and walked to me. He bent his knees bringing his head level to mine. Then he put a hand under my chin gently pulling my head up. I didn't want to look at him. How could I? I'd betrayed his trust in me. I hadn't done the one and only thing my parents ever really wanted of me. To go to school and do my best to learn what was being taught there. Instead I had wasted time.

My dad put his head right next to mine, so we were cheek to cheek. Then he whispered in my ear.

"Your mom and I love you. No matter what. We will always love you, son."

Then he put his arms around both me and my mom. That really didn't make me feel any better. I still knew nothing about what was to happen. We just sat there until I finally managed to stop crying. At least for a while.

"What now?" I managed to ask in a weak, hoarse voice.

"That's what we need to talk about. Mom and I have an idea, but if you don't like it, we may be able to think of something else."

"Okay."

He pulled away from me, I immediately put my chin on my chest again, eyes looking towards my lap, but not really focusing on anything.

"Please look at me," he said as he lifted my head up once more.

"I can't," I started crying again and cast my eyes down.

"Why not?" he was still talking softly to me.

Why don't you yell at me? Or slap me?

"Spank me!" I wanted to scream at him. It would be so much easier for me to understand and cope with. My parents weren't believers in corporal punishment and they hardly ever hit Tom or me. I had gotten a few good hard swats on my naked rear end by my mom, but that was for trying to steal money from my dad's wallet and she had caught me red-handed. But that was just that one time.

I was confused. I'd done something I really shouldn't have and needed to be punished for it. Quite severely too. Instead they were just smothering me in love and understanding.

It's fake. It has to be. I just know it. They're just waiting for me to say the wrong thing, then I'll get the thrashing of my life. Why not just get it over and done with?

Why did they have to prolong my misery? Were my parents really so cunning and evil?

"I just can't," I managed to blurt out.

"I think you're embarrassed of what you've done, maybe even feeling ashamed?"

"Yes!"

"Good, I think you know what you've done wrong and won't do it again. Am I right?"

"YES!" I nearly shouted.

Finally! Here it comes.

I readied myself for the impact of my dad's hand on my cheek.

"Relax Teddy. We won't punish you," my mom said.

"No?"

"There's no need for it," my dad said.

I looked at him, shyly, just a quick glance. Just to see if he was sincere. My eyes found his again. Held his gaze for a little longer. I cast my eyes back down.

"But I've disappointed you," I sadly whispered with tears starting to run down my cheeks again.

"I used the wrong word. Sorry. You haven't disappointed us, not in the true meaning of the word. You upset us, yes. We still trust you. But you better not make a habit of this."

I had to smile at that, just a little. Even with the tears still flowing, my mouth curled up on its own. Really. It wasn't fun. But it apparently wasn't the end of the world either.

"Now. Mom and I think it would best if you," my dad said while standing back up, "get out of this town. No, not for good, heavens no."

My sudden fear must have shown in my face as he said they were going to banish me from my home town.

"We think it will be good for you, if you get to meet some new friends. You don't have many friends here. I haven't seen Casey here in ages, and you used to be best friends with him," my mom said.

"I still see him," I tried.

"Not as much as you used to. I know you see Henry and, oh well, at least Thomas, but you're not as close to them as you were with Casey. Besides, after the fire. I just don't know what to say."

Shit, I had nearly forgotten about the fire!

***

We had been at Henry's house. Me, Thomas and Henry. Thomas had come by looking for me. Fortunately Henry and I had finished our sex stuff ten minutes prior to Thomas ringing the bell. I still felt very uncomfortable. Here Henry and Thomas were together, with me. Both of them I had sex with, but none of them knew I had sex with the other. It was confusing to say the least. I really didn't want either of them knowing that I did stuff with other kids than them.

Sure Henry knew about me and Casey, but he probably thought that was over long before he came onto me. And Thomas never knew that I had done anything with anyone else. I had to watch my every move and every word around them.

"Henry, why don't you show Thomas your airplane?" I suggested.

Model airplanes is something all kids are interested in. And Henry can talk about them for years on end if he's allowed to.

Hopefully it would make Thomas forget why he had come looking for me in the first place. I didn't think I would be able to fuck him so shortly after Henry had fucked me. That day he hadn't been holding back on me either. He had almost forced himself into me and plowed me like there'd be no tomorrow. I really needed to stop doing stuff with Henry. Which was about to happen, without me having to do anything. By pure, but very gruesome accident. Or stupidity really.

We were in the shed where Henry had his plane stuff, but it was also where his dad kept the lawnmower. It ran on gas. So there was also a 5 liters [1.3 gallon] plastic gas can in the shed. Henry was a boy scout. Not by nature, certainly not when plowing my butt or plugging my mouth. But he went to meets and camps and all that. Other than model airplanes, most boys are fascinated by fire. I wasn't one of them, but Henry and Thomas were. I've no clue how we ended up out in the garden next to the old wooden play house of Henry's.

It all happened so quickly. Henry poured some gas onto the sloping roof of the house, lit it with a match like he had done at scouts meetings. It was only a tiny bit of gas so the fire died down quickly. Thomas thought it was so cool, he egged Henry to pour a little more gas on the house so the flames would last longer. And like the idiot he was, Henry did exactly that. More gas on the roof, another match to it and the flames danced yet again.

No harm done really, but cautious as I was, I suggested we stopped then while everything was still cool. I don't know if I had a sixth sense alerting me, but I thought this wasn't cool at all. I'd been taught well by my dad. To never play with fire. But Henry wanted to show us this trick he had seen one of the scout masters do. That you can safely put more gas onto an already lit fire. I knew it could be done by squirting gas on it.

However, Henry poured the gas from the can onto the flames. And I can still see it to this day. In slow motion, almost frame by frame. How the flames suddenly increased violently in size. How they in the next millisecond got inside the gas can. I heard Henry screaming to watch out, that the can might explode. How he swung it to throw it away. How burning gas flew out of the can, hitting Thomas. How Thomas lit up like a bon fire. Thomas screaming from pure uncontrolled angst.

It still fills me with terror thinking back to that point in time [Which is why I only wrote a very condensed summary of what happened.]. I stood there, panicked, like my feet were frozen solid to the lawn. I've got to give Henry some credit though. He tackled Thomas, who by then had ran in a narrow half circle. He got him down on the grass and killed the flames by rolling Thomas around. I only woke up to life when Henry yelled for me to get help from his sister inside the house. She and her boyfriend had heard Thomas screaming and were already on the way out to see what was going on.

The boyfriend quickly carried a howling Thomas into the shower stall, both fully dressed and got the cold water running over him before removing their clothing. Meanwhile, the sister was on the phone trying to get in touch with the medical center, while telling me and Henry to go hose down the wooden play house. And the still burning gas can, which by the way didn't explode. The play house had a few burn marks and a bit of the hedge, in which the gas can had ended up, died.

All five of us got in the car after that and had to go to a medical center in the next town. Thomas was still sobbing of course, Henry's sister used a wash cloth to keep his hands and face wet. I was really scared, so was Henry. Both of us had ashen gray faces. I cried softly in sympathy for Thomas. He was taken into a room with a sink and the rest of us had to sit in the waiting room. I sat so I could see into the room where Thomas was being sprayed with water by a nurse.

Thomas' parents were the first to arrive. Then Henry's. They had a huge fight over who was to blame for what had happened. They couldn't reach my folks. So I went home with Henry and his parents where I got my bike and my coat.

"You stay away from my house from now on! You're not welcome here. I'm going to call your father and explain exactly what has happened here today and tell him you're not allowed to see Henry anymore!" Henry's dad told me.

I was enraged as I rode my bike as fast as I could back to my house with tears running down my face.

Why the hell does he blame me for what had happened? I tried to fucking stop them for fucks sake!

My parents were at home when I got there. My dad had just gotten off the phone with first Henry's dad, then Thomas' mom. She said Henry had been so quick to kill the flames, Thomas only suffered from some first degree burns on his thumb and index finger; first degree burns on his forehead, and he had lost part of his eyebrows and was now in desperate need of a serious haircut.

But all in all, he got out of it real lucky. Dinner that night was postponed while my parents listened to my side of the story. Of course Henry's dad had made it sound like I was the instigator; that no son of his would ever have even thought of doing something so stupid and reckless. But my parents listened to what I had to say, asked questions when they were unsure of what I meant and finally cleared me of all charges. They did tell me to stay away from Henry from then on, however.

Not because I was to blame in any way, just that they thought his dad was a real prick. That's my words, not theirs. I didn't set foot in Henry's house ever again. But he did come over to mine after about a month, hoping he could pork my ass. I wouldn't let him. I had finally understood what an uncaring idiot he was. He came over about a year later, on a Sunday just after lunch.

He had cracked open his dads gun safe and had taken his dads service pistol with him to my house. Not because he wanted to threaten me to do anything, but because he was so stupid he thought he could impress me with it. I threw him out telling him never to return. That he was an idiot stealing his dad's gun, and if I as much as heard of him carrying it again, I'd tell both my dad and his.

***

Thanks, mom, for making me relive that fire. She's right about Henry, but not Thomas!

We were still very good friends after the fire. His parents weren't real keen on my friendship to their son, they had probably been even less so, if they knew the true nature of it. But at least they never forbade us from spending time together. He was kept out of school for two days, the fire had happened on a Wednesday, and when he returned to school the following Monday, it was with a crewcut.

He was still a bit red, though he really didn't look too bad. Of course all the other kids wanted to hear the story, but in the end our teacher put a stop to it. She had been informed of what had happened and didn't want me or Henry to be made into the bad guys. She just said that there had been an accident, in which no one was to blame and that was it. Put simple, a case of boys being boys.

He, Thomas that is, came home with me not that Monday, but the day after. He wanted sex. What he had wanted since Wednesday when he came looking for me at Henry's house. I wasn't about to let him down.

We went to my room where we took off our pants and underoos. He stood there, waiting for me to tell him what to do. His dick was already hard as a nail, or more like a rod of steel, it was really no longer just a little boy's dink. It was nearly the same size as my own just slimmer. Probably around 13 cm [5 inches] long. He was after all 14 years old by then. I was 15.

"Lie down," I told him.

"Like this?"

"No dude. Turn over, I'm not gonna fuck you. Not today."

"Why not?"

"Wait and see."

With him properly situated on his back, I had him put my pillow underneath his ass so his midsection pushed into the air. I had him spread his legs enough for me to kneel between them. Getting comfortable myself, I lay down with my legs hanging off the bed, it just wasn't long enough for the both of us. I had my arms over his thighs and it was only a matter of opening my mouth to let in his slightly salty tasting nuts. The musky smell emitting from his groin and inner thighs filled my nostrils.

It wasn't an offensive smell, nor was the taste. Thomas was a very hygienic boy and he had probably had a shower that same morning and the taste was from what little sweat he had managed to build up during the day at school. The smell came mostly from his dick. It was a mixture of a slight pee smell and sweet sweat. What I've since taken to call the "Pure Boy" smell. It would make a real good aphrodisiac. At least I get fiercely turned on whenever I smell it or something resembling it.

My knowledge of Thomas always made sure to be clean is probably what possessed me to do what I did next.

"Lift your legs up and back," I said after I got up in a kneeling position still between his legs.

He did so without questioning my order. He held his knees close together which wasn't what I wanted though. It made his important bits hide underneath his thighs.

"Spread your legs out."

He opened the gate for me and held onto his legs under his knees which put everything I was interested in on display. I didn't waste much time on just looking at him.

It's such a pretty sight. Oh, how I want to just scoot closer and fuck him hard!

I remembered all too well the feeling of his tight and hot ass hole choking my dick. But I had done that so many times already. I forced the thought to the back of my mind, I had told him I wasn't going to fuck him. Also, I had to do what I really wanted to before I had time to think of it for too long. If I had taken my time, maybe I would've changed my mind.

After all, it does sound a little, well, unpleasant. For me, not for Thomas.

Bending forward, I placed the tip of my tongue directly onto his rosebud of an asshole. I don't know how I ever came up with the idea to do so. But I wanted to. It had to feel great having it done to you.

"Isn't it dirty there?" Thomas asked me.

"Nuh-uh," I said with my face surrounded by his bum cheeks.

I had moved my mouth closer effectively kissing his bum hole. Yeah, if he didn't want to kiss me on the mouth, I'd make out with his bum instead. It tasted, I'm not sure how to describe it properly, nice. Great. Awesome. Nothing like a fart or shit would taste like. More kind of like dirt might taste like. I used the word before, musky. That's what it tasted like.

But to really understand what it was like, you'd probably have to find a butt to lick yourself. I don't think they've made an artificial boy butt taste yet. I really liked Thomas and the incident with the fire had really scared the shit out of me. I think I actually loved him. Had times been different, maybe we would've ended up being boyfriends. As it was, we were only able to enjoy having sex with each other. But that was cool too.

The skin around his butthole was quite different to any other skin on his body. I hadn't really noticed it until I felt it with my tongue. He was completely hairless there too. I'm not sure I would've licked him if it had been full of hairs. But at the time he only had a small patch of hairs sprouting on top of his dick. His balls were hairless too. I had a grand view to his balls the way I was smooching his bum with my nose touching his ball sack.

Thomas had stopped questioning what I did to him, he was enjoying what it felt like to have my tongue circling his tight hole. If I had to judge from the way he was moaning and trying to push his ass closer against my mouth. I made my tongue firm and pushed it against his hole. I wasn't trying to push my tongue into it, I was just testing his muscle. It was tight, even though Thomas had learned how to relax it. God knows, he had had my prick, substantially larger than the tip of my tongue, deep inside of his ass many times by then.

I pushed my tongue in deeper, figured in for a penny, in for a pound. I couldn't get it in real far, I'm neither a dog nor a snake, and my tongue was every bit as normal as any other boy's tongue out there. But I could make small fucking motions with it, which in turn made Thomas grab his dick and start jerking it off. Yeah, the proper way like I had taught him, not the starting a fire in your loins method. There had been one too many fires already.

"Don't!" I stopped him by forcibly moving his hand from his dick.

"Aw," he pouted.

"It'll make you go blind," I said to him every bit as seriously as a 12th century catholic priest could have said.

"No, that's just a lie."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna make you squirt. Don't worry."

"I need to do it like now."

So much for taking it nice and slow.

I understood him perfectly well, after all, he wasn't the only one who hadn't had sex for 5 days. I stopped teasing him with my tongue and pushed my index finger all the way into his ass. I put my other hand on his dick and squeezed it tight but not so tight it would hurt him. Setting off at a slow pace, I matched the speed of which my finger poked into his bum to the speed of my hand jerking off his dick.

"Okay, that feels great, but it'll take ages," Thomas whined after about a minute.

"You're soo demanding," I said with a fake sigh, "What's a poor guy to do?"

"Suck it!"

"Oh, so now you're the boss?"

"Please, just do it!"

I hadn't stopped my manipulation of his dick and ass while we had small-talked. But I had to stop doing one of the things if I were to suck him too. I chose to stop jerking him. Bending further over him, I placed my left hand on the bed next to him to balance myself. I could suck him then, but didn't have enough room or control to keep poking into his butt with my finger.

But, there's this special place deep inside your butt, the prostate. I knew if a dick poked into that place, it felt good. I didn't know if I could reach it with a finger, but decided to try. Heck, Thomas' asshole was already loosened up, so it was only a matter of taking out one finger and put in another. So I did. In went my middle finger. I wasn't fully aware of where Thomas' prostate was exactly and searched for it with my finger.

Thomas finally seemed happy as I was sucking his dick. I kept hearing sounds that either came from a small dying animal inside of him or more likely came from his mouth.

"Oh fuck! What was that?" Thomas jolted his body.

Aah, there it is!

Now I knew where his spot was, it was time to see just what I could do to it to make Thomas feel good. Based on his reaction just then it wasn't just a matter of poking it hard. I approached it a second time with a lot more caution.

"Oooh! Ah, what? Shit! Oh maaaaan."

He said the last word in a really drawn out moan. I didn't know you could get someone to squirt so quickly just by sucking their dick and touching this unyielding spot inside of their ass.

I have to experiment further with him later on.

Right then, Thomas was trying to drown me with his sperm. Okay, exaggerating again. But his orgasm lasted a lot longer than earlier times and he sure came a lot! I kept his dick in my mouth as he kept shooting nasty, vile sperm into it. I just held on to the ridge of his dick head with my lips.

I think he was using my uvula for target practice as more than one of the ropes of sperm shooting into my mouth hit it. When his balls had finally drained I moved my mouth off his dick while holding up a vacuum. That way I got most, if not all of his sperm into my mouth and left his dick head only slightly moist. I swallowed his cum as quickly as I could, I didn't exactly enjoy the taste of his salty offering.

It left me with an after taste of, well cum. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, knowing it had come from Thomas, but it sure wasn't great either. Fortunately I had a pack of gum and I quickly started chewing on a piece of it.

Thomas was all but knocked out on the bed.

***

This chapter, however, was really meant to be about me going to another school.

Thomas had been tranferred as you may remember, that was how I had met him in the first place, but he had just changed schools in our small city. It wasn't going to be like that for me.

My parents took their time explaining it all to me as we sat there at the dining table.

"Teddy, we don't feel it'll help you if you were only to start in a new school here," my father explained.

"But, I can do better," I objected.

"Why, of course you can, but listen to your father now," my mom said.

"You're simply too far behind. Just look at your study books, you've done less than one fifth of the assignments. And those you have started doing, you never finished.

The incriminating evidence was hard to overlook, it was right there on the table where my dad had put my school books. My notebooks with my half-assed answers to the assignments looked brand new.

I sighed.

"Nevermind that now, but we need to find a school with teachers who have enough time to help you. That's why, we think a boarding school will be the perfect solution."

I gasped at what my dad said.

Boarding school? What about Thomas, my room, my Amiga? What about my life?

"It's only if you agree to it. If not, maybe we can come up with another solution."

"We already discussed this, dear. There are no other solutions," my dad said before I had time to say I didn't want anything to do with any stinking boarding schools.

A boarding school sounds like a prison for kids!

"It'll only be until the end of the school year and it'll give you the chance to pass your exams. You'll make new friends and maybe you'll love living away from home."

It sounded kind of cool to be sort of moving away from home at 15 years of age. Convincing me to go to a boarding school was to be the least of my parents' problems in the process. Locating a school willing to take me in, with my school records, this far into the school year was much harder. My parents must have called twenty schools in total of which only two were interested in meeting me and have a look at the problems I'd be facing.

The first one I downright refused to attend. Just the description of it sounded like pure hell to me. It was a school focusing on sports. Running, athletics, swimming (which sounded okay), handball, soccer, dancing! I stopped reading about the school when I saw they had dance classes. To top it off, I'd have to do three of the sports classes.

Of course, there were all the normal school subjects to do as well. I'd never be able to pass my exams if I had to wear myself out in sports too.

The other school sounded better. Not by much, but at least some. It was much further away from where I lived, it was a nearly three and a half hours trip by bus, ferry, train and car. It meant I'd only be able to go home every third, maybe every second weekend. My parents weren't able to afford to pay for anymore roundtrip tickets.

I told my dad I'd keep that school in mind, but if he could find one much closer to home I'd rather go there. My parents tried. They really did. My dad stayed home from work the next day and spent all morning on the phone. It wasn't only due to me being so far behind, nor the reason why, though that also played a big part of the problem finding a school for me. The major problem was to find a school that actually had an vacant spot. Boarding schools were and still are very popular in Denmark.

At least those for the 9th and 10th grades. There aren't many boarding schools offering lower grades, but they do exist. Some even accept 8 year-old kids. I can't imagine what that must be like, leaving home at such a tender age. It was hard enough for me at the age of 15, nearly 16.

When we sat down for lunch, my dad shook his head.

"Sorry, Teddy. It seems like it will be Carter or none at all."

"It's okay dad. Can we at least go check it out first, before I make up my mind?"

Both my mom and dad went with me, they even offered Tom to come along too, but he couldn't care less of where I was to be stowed away, as long as it was far from him. That was all he cared about.

It was a Thursday when we drove to the school. Well, we had to go by ferry too, an one hour crossing. I had butterflies in my stomach for the entire trip. I was somewhat excited, though mostly I was preparing myself to be hugely disappointed. Carter Boarding School, as was the full name of the school, was in a very small town, with maybe all of 30 houses in it and a couple of farms outside of town.

My first impression of the school was nice, it had a small parking lot with maybe four cars, one of which was a van with room for ten people. Then there was this nice glass-enclosed walkway with paintings obviously done by kids, probably pupils at the school. A sign guided us to the office, where a really heavy-set woman sat in front of a computer. She looked friendly though and completely ignoring my parents, she greeted me and asked who I might be. I introduced myself and she smiled at me.

"Henning will be ready to see you in just a minute. He's on the phone right now, but as soon as he hangs up, I'll let him know you're here."

She pointed us to a sofa and asked us to take a seat. Next to the sofa was a table with some information flyers. I took one and leafed through it, mostly studying the pictures, while we waited.

Henning, who was the school principal, though he told me he liked the word manager better, came into the front office and asked us into his private office. He was a really nice man, elder one at that, with white hair that made him look like a monk. His hair was receding. All he had left was really just a half circle around the back of his head.

"So, Teddy. I've looked at your school records and talked to your former class teacher. I've also shown your records to the teachers here and talked about you with the two who are going to your group teachers. Well, if you should decide you want to join us here.

"I'm sure you'd want to see as much of the school as you can to get a feel for the place before you make your mind up. I've talked to one of our students and he has agreed to give you a tour of a school and answer whichever questions you may have and…"

Someone knocked on the door and opened it. Henning stopped talking and looked at the door like the he was annoyed by the interruption. It was only for show, though, as he winked at me.

"Ah, we were just talking about you, Christopher. This lad is Teddy, please take him around the school but make sure not to disturb any classes. Okay? Splendid! Now, off you go, Teddy. I have to talk to your parents and I'm sure what we're going to talk about would only bore you to tears."

I didn't see all of the school during the tour, but I did get to see the building where I'd stay. The school had a main building and six smaller buildings scattered on the school premises. In all of the buildings there were bedrooms where the pupils lived two per room.

No one said anything about me having to share a room with someone!

It was yet another thing to worry about. There were, obviously, class rooms in most of the buildings, but I didn't get to see any of them as classes were in session at the time of my tour.

We ended up outside the dining hall just as the entire school was getting ready for lunch. I've never felt so lonely as when I stood there amongst all the loudly chattering kids. Someone must have said something funny as I could hear an outburst of laughter. I didn't know any of the kids, save for Christopher, who I had only spent the last hour or so with. And he was talking to a girl I presumed was his girlfriend. Well, I know now that it was his girlfriend, but back then I could only guess.

At 11:45 on the dot, the door into the dining hall was unlocked from the inside and the kids immediately started pushing to get inside as quickly as possible.

An adult stuck his head into the hallway from inside the dining hall and loudly told everyone to be quiet and stop pushing. He kept us waiting until all of the kids had quieted down and only then did he move from the door and allowed us to enter. Inside the big hall, there were about 20 tables, each had room for eight people. One of the tables had extra chairs and my parents sat there. I thought I'd be sitting with them, but the teacher who had let us in, pointed me to a table at the other end of the hall.

I went there, and not knowing where to sit, I just stood there next to it. Two boys had already sat down and one of them said I could sit next to him. Which meant I'd be facing away from my parents. The boys made me feel welcome, though, quietly asking me questions as the hall and my table slowly filled. A strict looking 50ish years old lady teacher came over to the table and sat down.

"Zip your mouths, boys. You know you have to keep quiet until you're allowed to eat."

Well, excuse me, Mrs. Witch! Nobody told me to keep silent until you did.

It seemed pretty strict and old fashioned to me, but I was soon able to understand why. Henning got up from the table where my parents sat and went to the middle of the hall. There he cleared his throat really loud and the near silence that had been in the hall until then, immediately turned into complete silence. He asked the cook what was on the menu that day.

I don't remember exactly what it was, the day had been full of new inputs my mind was busy trying to handle and it was still only time for lunch. It probably means that whatever we had, wasn't really good nor really bad. Just something edible. When the cook, who by the way was a really slim and not very tall young woman had finished telling us what we were about to eat, if we couldn't tell by taste or appearance, Henning said to enjoy our meal.

The silence was immediately replaced by a hum of low talking and utensils scraping bowls placing food on plates and cutlery being used. The woman whom I learned was named Marjorie, was to be one of my group teachers. Flemming, the one who had let us in, was the other of my to-be group teachers. After we had finished eating, Henning did a mail call, naming the kids who got a letter or package waiting for them. Then we cleared the tables and the kids left the hall.

My parents and I went with Henning to his office and he asked me if I had any questions for him. I didn't at the time, I already had a lot of impressions to consider. I didn't exactly need more information then. So he saw us out to the car, but before I got in it, he said I should think it over and not make up my mind until after I'd slept on it.

"But I do need to know soon. We have a lot of work to do if you should decide to come here," he told me.

I sat in silence nearly all the way home. I didn't start any conversation and only responded with one word sentences when my parents asked me something. They didn't push me, probably knew I had a lot on my mind.

When we got home, I went to my room and sat on my bed. I looked at the things I had there, I tried to store mental pictures I could pull up and look at, when I was no longer there. I remember dwelling at my Amiga. The most prized possession I had at the time. Not being able to use it for weeks at a time was something I hadn't really considered earlier. Now I had to consider it as I thought of what life would be at the school.

The kids genuinely seemed as they really enjoyed being there. The dude, Christopher, who had shown me around had been very friendly. So had the manager. The lady teacher had been strict and kind of frightening, but maybe she had just had a bad day. Not being able to hug my parents, or to seek out advice or consolation from them would be extremely hard for me. I'd be able to talk to them on the phone, but it seemed like such a poor substitute for the real thing. But to go away from them and to stand on my own two feet was an exciting thought.

I didn't get much sleep that night, however, when I woke the next morning, my mind was set.

I'll go. It can't be any worse than my life is now. Maybe I'll finally make some real friends who doesn't just want to screw me.

Yes, Henry was still on my mind.

And someone who won't just abandon me like Casey did. I'll hate not being able to regularly fuck Thomas, but at least I'll be home every third weekend. Maybe more often. We can have sex then, I guess.

At breakfast I told my parents I wanted to go to Carter and it started a flurry of activities. My dad was on the phone to the manager and told him I'd be arriving there Sunday afternoon. My mom had already been given a list with required clothing and other items I had to bring with me to the school. It was massive. When speaking of clothing, at least they didn't wear school uniforms at Carter. But that didn't stop my mom from dragging me out the door to go shopping.

Fortunately we didn't have to get much, I mostly needed some more long pants, like blue jeans and a new coat. While we were gone, my dad had a look at my bike. Not my race bike, but my regular school bike. The race bike wasn't exactly street legal, it lacked reflectors and had no places to put lights on it. Neither did it have wheel guards, which made it a bitch to ride when it rained. But I think the main reason was simply because the race bike was bloody expensive. It was another hand-me-down item from Tom.

My school bike, however, had all the required equipment including a lock to prevent theft. But it had been a while since the last time it was serviced, which is why my dad spent a couple of hours oiling the chain, changing brake pads and making sure all the nuts and bolts were as tight as they should be.

When we left home by Sunday morning, the car was really packed and my bike on a rack behind it. I was headed off towards new adventures.

Chapter 14
Starting a new life

When we arrived at the school, I got a key for the room I was to share with a kid I hadn't even met yet. My mom and dad stayed and helped me unpack but much too soon they left to go back home. I really wanted to go back home with them, by then second-guessing my decision. It felt as if I was the only kid on the school premises.

I only left my room when it was time for dinner. The door to the dining hall was open and there were some, though not very many, kids in there. I think maybe all of thirteen kids were there along with two teachers. I had only talked to one of them shortly when I got my key. We were to talk more after we had finished dinner. Dinner was nothing like lunch had been, it was buffet style, mostly cold stuff, with a couple of warm dishes made from leftovers from lunch.

I sat at a table by myself, I just wanted to loathe in my self-pity and feeling homesick. I didn't get to sit alone for long though, as first one of the teachers and then three kids sat at my table.

The kids first of all wanted to know where I was from. When I named my small home city, none of them knew where it was, so I had to name the region. Coming from so far away led to some murmurs of respect from the other kids. Most of the pupils came from cities only 30-50 km [18-30 miles] from the school, easily allowing them to go home every single weekend and even on Wednesday afternoons. Others, like me, had so far to travel they only went home every other weekend or even less frequently.

We made small talk for about 40 minutes and after I had finished eating, I left to go outside to have a smoke. Yeah, I'd picked up the nasty habit, it had been frighteningly easy too. Only after ten cigarettes or so, I was so deep into it, that I've smoked daily ever since. I've tried a few times to quit, only managed to do so for three months one time.

After my smoke, I went to talk to the teacher. He explained the routines of returning to school.

"When you come to the school, the very first thing you need to do is come to this office and check in. You won't get the key for your room until you do. It's very important you're checked in, as we use the list in case of a fire or other emergencies to check if everyone has made it out safely."

It made sense to me, though it was a level of control I wasn't used to from home. My parents never knew where I was, at least not until dinner, and after that I could easily leave my house to go wherever I wanted.

"There are a lot of people living close together here and we expect a certain level of hygiene. Wash your hands frequently, at least after every time you've been to the toilet. Shower when needed, preferably every other day. Brush your teeth in the mornings and before going to bed."

I really didn't need to be told that, but it was just part of the welcoming package I guess. He also said he knew I would probably feel homesick and that I could always come to a teacher and have a chat. Even if it was in the middle of the night.

As we were talking, mostly him telling me stuff, kids started returning to school and got their keys, some of them said hi to me and wanted to know my name, they told me theirs but there were just so many new faces and names I couldn't keep track.

"How many kids are there? They just keep coming," I said after yet another one had gotten her key.

"With you, we have 128 pupils. That's exactly as many as we can board. We're 14 full time teachers, one, no, two part-time student teachers. Then, there's the matron and four on the kitchen staff. We have two janitors, they sometimes teach woodworking or welding, so you'll probably get to know them fairly well. Oh, not to forget our secretary, Jeanette. You've met Henning, he teaches English when he doesn't manage the school."

Mind-boggling information, I know, it was even worse for me, I've left out most of what I was told.

***

I left for my room when it was around 8:35PM, I needed another smoke and a pee. Back in my building, there were kids sitting in the lounge area. It was pretty cozy with sofas, armchairs and low coffee tables. When they saw me come in and unlock the door to my room, they asked if they could come in and hang out.

My room was apparently the biggest bedroom of the building and as we weren't allowed to smoke in the lounge, but only in our rooms with the door shut, they wanted to come in to smoke. I wasn't sure if my roommate would approve which I told them, but they soon convinced me he wouldn't mind. And when he came in 15 minutes later to a by then really smoke-filled room, he only laughed and opened one of the windows.

I didn't get a chance to talk to him until after one of the teachers had been by at 10:30PM and told the last remaining visitors to go to their own rooms. The teacher bid us a good night and went on with his round. I sat on my bed, while my new roommate, Pat, sat in an armchair. I was a bit shy, but gradually opened up to Pat. He was just so outgoing and friendly, a true opposite to my introversion. He made me feel at ease where I had been real tense when the room was full of kids I didn't know.

How am I going to sleep?

We were getting ready for bed at around 11:15PM, and I wondered if I could go to sleep naked, as I by then had gotten used to, or not. I decided to wait and see what Pat did. He came back from a visit to the toilet and shuck his clothes off. He kept his underwear on though. I thought it best to do the same.

When we had both turned out our bed lights and I was trying to shape the pillow into my liking, out of the dark I heard Pat ask me a question.

"Do you wank at night?"

"Uh… Yeah."

"Cool. Let's wank now then."

That night started our nightly competition to see who could finish off first. I usually won to his utter astonishment, frequently asking me how I could shoot so damn quickly. His orgasm was almost always a few minutes later than mine. We jerked off in our own beds, always with the lights out. It was a new experience for me. I silently wished for him to suggest we'd wank each other and so much more. The fantasies I had of us doing it while we jerked off was what made me cum in record time.

***

The first day at my new school started okay, I kept close to Pat for most of it. He had set his alarm clock to go off at 6:30 AM, which was earlier than I was used to from home. I was far too excited to be grumpy from the lack of sleep. Even the smallest of things had to be done differently than how I had gotten used to at home. The morning routine of peeing, brushing teeth, getting dressed, combing hair and all that, had to be done in a different order than I did at home.

I had followed Pat out through the hallway and into the boys' rest rooms. It was a room with three cubicles on one side, four sinks with mirrors on the other. On the opposite wall of the entry door, was a lockable door leading into a shower room with two shower heads. We went into each our own cubicle, it sounded like Pat sat down on the can in his. I only had to take a piss, but really had built up a lot of it during the night as per usual.

But, with Pat sitting only a couple of feet away, albeit shielded by a partition wall, I knew he'd be able to hear me pee. I knew, because I could clearly hear him grunt on the other side of the wall. My bladder was full, but I just couldn't relax enough to get the flow started. I stood there holding my dick with the foreskin pulled back, end of dick pointed towards the bowl, all ready to go. And I couldn't! I tried to block out the sounds Pat was making.

Imagining I was all alone in a place far away from anyone, I thought back to when I was at the waterfall in Pula. I thought of the sound the falling water made and all of a sudden my pee started spurting.

"Damn your dick must be huge," Pat said and brought me back from Pula and inside the small cubicle which had nothing but the toilet in front of me.

My dick was far from huge, I was just pissing straight into the water in the toilet bowl and I guess the sound of it was pretty loud.

"Nah, not really," I said while doing my best to just keep the flow going. It would hurt like a bitch if it cut off.

"You're pissing like a race horse!"

I had to giggle at the picture of a horse pissing into a toilet. My stream of pee went all over, but fortunately it still went into the bowl, not all over the floor.

With my pee done, I went out to the sink where I had hung my towel and placed my toilette bag, I'd only ever used it when we were on holidays, but from then on, I'd bring it with me to the rest room every morning and in the evenings. While I was washing my face after having washed my hands, Pat came out from his cubicle. He stood next to me and started on his washing. It was kind of nice, standing there doing stuff next to an age mate. We chatted about what was going to happen during the morning. I brushed my teeth while Pat explained the routine.

"We have to be in the dining hall before 7:30," he said, "That's when they start clearing the food away.

"The two teachers who were on night-duty will be there and we need to report to them so they know we're awake. If you get sick, you need to go and tell them then you can go back to bed," he continued explaining. "After breakfast we have to be in the 'cave' for morning assembly at 7:45 AM. Don't ever be late for the assembly!"

"Why?"

"Henning will make you feel mighty sorry for having held up all the entire school."

"What happens at the assembly?"

"We start out by singing a couple of songs, then Henning will tell us if there's something special happening today."

"They make us sing?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, it's a lot of fun."

Maybe it is fun, if you know how to sing.

***

After breakfast, I went with Pat to the 'cave'. It turned out to be a quite large room and had a large sloping half circle in the middle of it. The curved part of it held eight shelves with mattresses on them. It was like an indoors amphitheater. The straight wall had a couple of whiteboards on it along with two impressive-looking large loudspeakers. I later found out there was a huge TV hiding behind the whiteboards.

Pat grabbed a binder from a pile of them and told me to take one too and we went to sit on one of the shelves.

"This is where we sit," Pat told me.

There were already quite a lot of kids in the 'cave' and it was quite a ruckus. Some kids would scale down the shelves like it was a huge stair case, bumping friendly into kids who had already found their seats while others used the proper stairs at the wall. When everybody was situated and hushed at, Henning went into the small half circle at the bottom of the amphitheater.

"It is almost time for Christmas," Henning said in his loud voice, which caused some kids to hoot and cheer, "However, we had a new pupil join us last night. His name is Teddy and he is sitting… Uh, hold on a second… Ah, there you are. Right next to Pat. Please stand up so we can all see you."

I could feel my ears burning as I quickly got up on my knees and quickly waved before I let myself slump back onto the cushion. I've never enjoyed being the center of attention, certainly not around a lot of unknown people.

"Well, I suppose that's all we get," Henning said to the sniggers and a few whistles from some of the kids, "Make sure you make him feel as much as home as you do! Welcome, Teddy, I hope you'll have a happy time here. Okay, we're going to sing the song on page 35…"

The kids sitting close to me, both those sitting on the lower shelf in front of me as well as those behind and above me quickly greeted me as we all started leafing through our binders to find the page with the lyrics for the song.

Flemming, my group teacher, started playing on an acoustic guitar and another teacher joined in on a viola. When I looked at the one playing the viola I couldn't believe my eyes at first.

He's fucking huge!

He was probably more than 2 meters [~6 feet 5 inches] tall, and measured about the same over his shoulders. He had a really big red beard and long red hair. If you gave him a sword, shield and helmet he would be the spitting image of what I imagined a Viking would look like. He taught PE, wrestling and weight lifting, as well as maths and wood working.

We sang two songs that morning, which we did from then on every morning from Monday to Friday. Mostly they were popular Danish songs, but also English songs like Stairway to heaven, House of the rising sun, many of the Beatles songs, and the most popular one, We will rock you by Queen. We slowed it down somewhat to make the lyrics easier for us to sing and if you change some of the words (which we did), it is hilarious and with 128 kids and a number of teachers all clapping it sounds really bloody amazing.

Of course, some of the teachers didn't appreciate the new lyrics one of the kids had composed and taught the rest of us. One of the kids was great at playing the piano, so some mornings he was the one who accompanied our singing voices. It actually turned out to be a really cool way to start the day. It woke you up for sure. Particularly when we were allowed to sing that modified Queen song.

After assembly Pat and I went back to our room, had a smoke while he got the stuff he needed for the first period of classes. I only had to get my pencil case to get ready as I hadn't gotten any school books at that point. That's where we parted ways for the time being. He was in the tenth grade and thus had other classes than I was to attend. One of the other kids in our building took me to the class room where we were meant to be. That first class really opened my eyes to just how far behind I was.

***

It only got worse during the next classes. English and Danish were the only two subjects where I was somewhat close to being up to speed. The teachers quickly realized this and Flemming, my group teacher had a talk with me one afternoon after the classes were out for the day. He was really nice to talk to and we agreed to me getting some extra homework so I could catch up. I had to sort of teach myself by doing assignments for the subjects I was behind in.

I was adamant to get to the point where I'd be able to pass my 9th grade exams, but I didn't want to only pass, I wanted to get the best grades possible. After a week of being bogged down in homework I just couldn't manage, I ended up bawling my heart out to Flemming.

"I just can't do it. There's no way! Please, just call my dad and make him come get me so I can go home. I hate this school!," I cried.

"But, what are you going to do then?" Flemming asked me gently, "You know you need to pass the exams to get a good job. To make a future for yourself."

"But, I can't. I'm an idiot. I just don't get the stuff," I was really depressed.

"You're not an idiot. You're actually very smart!"

"No, I'm not. I'm the dumbest kid here."

"That's not how I see you. Nor is it how any of the other teachers think of you."

"Marjorie hates me!" I nearly spat.

"She doesn't. She has taken quite a likening to you."

"But she's always so mean to me."

"Is she now? She speaks remarkably of you when we discuss our pupils."

I shook my head, I didn't believe him.

"She does though. We're all very pleased with the progress you've been making so far, you've by far exceeded even our greatest expectations."

He placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me closer to him in a sort of sideways hug. He kept his arm around me as we talked further. Step by step I got more relaxed and was able to explain in more details what my problems really were. Instead of just saying I hated everything, I was starting to understand I was putting too much pressure on myself. That's what Flemming told me. I found out the homework assignments I'd been given weren't to be handed in at any specific time.

Well, of course I had to do them sort of quickly so I'd sooner catch up to the other pupils in my classes. But I wasn't to stress doing them. I ended up having a daily half hour private study session with which ever teacher was on duty that particular day. It helped me a lot when I got a fixed time slot to concentrate on the extra work. I got into the fast track to learning and finally managed to catch up with the rest of the kids in my classes.

It didn't happen overnight. But steadily I improved my schoolwork. I got increasingly better grades for the assignments I handed in. Oh, don't get me wrong, I never became a straight A student. But I actually got to the point where I almost enjoyed being challenged academically. Maths was still proving difficult and I never got to appreciate having to learn it. The day when my last private study session was over, my group of pupils threw a small party. Not with booze, but we had cake and sodas. It was still very cool.

As it was, I soon adjusted to, and rather enjoyed, both the routines at school, my nightly jerk off session with Pat and interacting with the other kids at school. I had my favorites of course, mostly sticking to the group of friends Pat had made before I joined the school. But I also spent time with other kids not part of Pat's crew.

***

And suddenly it was time for the Christmas holidays. It was the first time I had to travel home after being sent off to the boarding school.

I still couldn't believe the first month had passed by so quickly when I handed over my key and signed out of the school, lugging two large carryalls full of dirty clothing and presents for my mom and dad, and yes one for Tom, even. It was a one and a half kilometer [~1 mile] walk from the school to the bus stop, but I didn't have to walk it on my own. There were eight of us travelling to the island where my home was. We got on the bus and then switched to the ferry.

It would have been much cooler had I had any spending money, but I was broke as a church rat. I'd spent the money my parents sent me on cigarettes, candy and sometimes sodas, mostly a cheap variation of cola. I only had the exact money for buying the tickets I needed to get home. When we arrived at the other side of the sound, the group dwindled to just five of us. The rest were headed in other directions, one was picked up by her parents right there at the ferry terminal. My, now smaller, group entered the train headed for Copenhagen.

I disembarked the train at the right stop and left the train station hoping to be able to find my dad out in front of it. There were so many people who all seemed to be in a great hurry. It was Friday before Christmas, a really busy travelling day. The ferry had been packed so full it was a downright miracle it didn't sink while crossing. And we had to stand in the train for the entire hour it took to reach my stop. It was no easy trait to find my dad and finally drive the last little distance to my house.

My house. I didn't really feel at home when I got there. Of course Walter nearly made me trip when I entered the house, he was just so excited to see me again. He jumped up at me and with the weight of the carryalls I nearly lost my footing. I quickly dropped the bags, got down on my knees and hugged Walter. He was extremely happy, kept trying to lick my face and wouldn't stop whining and barking. After a couple of minutes of petting him while I tried to answer my mom's questions, I finally got back up on my feet.

Shooing Walter off, my mom embraced me in a hug. My mom is very short and at sixteen I towered over her so it must have looked really funny.

"Look at you, Teddy! Oh, I've missed you so much. Did you have a nice birthday? Did you get the present I to sent you?" She asked as pushed me away from her, but still holding onto my upper arms.

"Yeah. It was cool. Thanks for the present, I wanted to call and say thanks, but I didn't have any money left on the phone card."

"You spent 100 kr [~$15] so quickly? Teddy!"

I blushed at her mild lecture. Fortunately my dad came to my rescue.

"Nevermind, give the boy a chance to step into the house before you start telling him off. Teddy, what do you think of the school, was it worth it?"

"It's cool. The teachers are helpful and explain stuff to me so I actually get what they're trying to teach me. Pat is cool, but he snores at night."

"So he's just like you in other words."

"DAD! I don't snore."

Fuck, I've missed you, dad. You too, mom.

I had really missed my parents, though I'd never be able to tell them, but mostly I had been too busy at school to have the time to realize just how much I had missed my parents.

Later that evening when I was getting ready for bed, the feeling of not being at home got stronger. Sure, I could see my Amiga sitting there. Turned off, untouched. I could even see a thin layer of dust on top of it.

It used to be my favorite toy. No, so much more than just a toy!

Now it just sat there, I knew I could turn it on and play a game if I had wanted. It used to be the first thing I did upon returning home from my old school. But I didn't really want to now.

Over the course of the ten days I was away from school during Christmas and the New Year I only sat in front of it maybe twelve hours all in all. Before I had left for the boarding school, I'd spend 12 hours a day, at least, sitting in front of it during holidays.

It felt strange lying in my bed not having to listen to Pat trying to talk my ears off. I was waiting in the darkness for the night duty teacher to come knock on the door and tell me good night. I knew it wouldn't happen, but I was kind of expecting it anyway. I fell asleep in my bed that felt somewhat familiar, but still so very different from the one I had grown used to. I didn't even wank my dick that night.

***

The next morning I got on my race bike rather early. My normal bike was of course still at the boarding school. The sun hadn't risen yet, so it have had to be earlier than 9 AM. I was just riding around the familiar streets, and even went to my old school. It was understandably deserted at the time, it being a Saturday. I left it quickly, not at all enjoying the memories it brought to mind.

Nah, my new school is so much cooler than this hell on Earth.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was headed towards Thomas' house. I wondered what he had been up to, and if he would be up for doing something with me.

I don't even know if he's home at all!

I hadn't talked to him after I had so quickly been whisked away from home to the boarding school.

Shit, what if he has found someone else? Maybe he has a girlfriend now!

If he had, it would be a really long and boring Christmas holiday for me.

***

When I rang his doorbell, it was his mom who answered the door and she told me Thomas was still sleeping.

What laziness! That would never have been allowed at Carter!

"Just go to his room and wake him. It's about time he gets up anyway."

I took off my heavy winter coat and my shoes before making my way towards Thomas' bedroom. Sneaking into his room while trying hard not to wake him proved rather exciting. I shut his door extremely carefully, not making any sound at all. Then I turned to see him sprawled out on his back under the duvet. He looked so peaceful and cute laying there. There was however a strong smell of sleeping teenager in his room.

I really wanted to take off all my clothes and wake him by sucking on his cock. But with his family home and a door that couldn't be locked I didn't want to risk it. Instead I called out his name in a loud sing-song voice and jumped onto his bed, probably scaring the crap out of him.

"What the hell?" he yelled, then said in a more normal but tired voice, "Oh, it's just you."

He yawned and stretched his limbs then scratched his nose.

"Where have you been?" he asked while yawning some more.

"I went to a boarding school," I explained while my hand snuck under the duvet covering Thomas. It felt nice and warm under there, probably more so as I had been out in the cold morning for more than an hour without gloves. My hand found a naked and very hot thigh but before it could reach his groin, Thomas wriggled away from my hand.

"No man, your hand is too fucking cold!"

"Spoilsport!" I ripped the duvet off from his body and launched myself on top of him, "So you think my hands are cold?"

Thomas shrieked like a little girl as I started tickling every part of his body that I could reach.

"NOOoh," he laughed while he triend to fend for himself, but I didn't let up that easily, not until he a few minutes later, all of a sudden really shoved at me and caused me to fall to the floor.

"Sorry, but I really must pee now," he said and scurried out his door wearing nothing but his underwear.

After Thomas did his morning business in the bathroom, we had breakfast with his mom and dad. They (his mom and dad) were going Christmas shopping and told us to behave ourselves while they were gone. Thomas and I went back to his room.

"Open the window and let in some fresh air, dude!" I said when my nose, once again, was confronted by the stale air inside his room. The one month at the boarding school had changed me. Before I could have sat in my smoke-filled bedroom all day and night without caring one way or another. If there was a lack of oxygen, I didn't notice.

But in Thomas' bedroom I felt like suffocating. The smell of stale farts, bad breath, sweat and smelly feet sure wasn't pleasant. An open window for all of five minutes did wonders. It also made it rather cold inside Thomas' bedroom.

We ended up sitting close next to each other with his duvet over our shoulders.

"So, what's boarding school like?" He wanted to know.

"It's really different. There's always someone you can hang out with. I got this really cool roommate and a lot of new friends."

"Oh," he sounded almost disappointed.

"What?"

"I miss you."

"I've missed you too. But I'm here now."

"There's no one to you-know-what with and school has just been so freaking boring without you. Well, not that you could be bothered to show up this year anyway."

We talked more, for like half an hour. I couldn't do anything to make Thomas' school life more interesting, but I think he already knew that. I told him I'd come home from school on the weekends. Well, only every third weekend, maybe more frequent. I didn't know the schedule, hadn't worked it out with my parents at the time. You see, there were activities at school during the weekends too.

And some of the activities was actually cool stuff. That was one of the reasons for the school to have a van. One of the two teachers who had weekend duty would sometimes take whatever kids who wanted to come, to go see a movie or a play. Or we'd go play paint ball games or maybe canoeing on the fjord. And if the teacher didn't want to go anywhere, we'd make popcorn and lemonade in the kitchen and go watch a movie or two on the big-screen TV in the 'cave'.

One of the teachers even let us pull an all-nighter from Saturday to Sunday. So five of us kids stayed up the entire night and watched horror/splatter movies. It was downright cool. So I hope you can understand why I was having a hard time choosing between travelling to my home for the weekend or stay at the school. At home, there was Thomas, who I had a lot of very good sex with. But we'd really only be able to be together for a couple of hours on the Saturday.

Friday night I'd only arrive at home at around 8 PM all knackered from the long travel. And I had to get in the car to be driven to the train station Sunday at 4:30 PM, in order to be back at the school before 10 PM, due to the bus schedule. My parents wanted me to spend time with them too, when I was home on the weekend.

I didn't tell Thomas about all of the activities at school. I didn't want him to envy my new life. Mostly I didn't want him to know I had found something I'd rather do than have sex with him. I was confused with that realization myself and didn't want him to think I didn't care much for him anymore. I did care a lot for him, I just didn't have the damn time for everything I wanted.

I can't be in two places at once. Damn it!

Thomas interrupted my thoughts when he put his hand my thigh. We were still sitting close to each other under his duvet. I let him fondle my thigh and didn't object when he moved his hand over on top of my dick.

No, I can't be in two places at once, but I'm with Thomas right now.

It was where I really wanted to be at the time. If he wanted to get dirty with me, so be it.

We can talk afterwards. Or some other time.

My dick started stiffening in response to his fondling.

Maybe we'll never talk.

Talking just didn't seem quite so important right then.

Thomas took charge for a change. I guess it was either because we were in his bedroom or maybe he was too horny to wait for me to do it. He pushed me onto my back, my head hit the wall next to his bed. It hurt momentarily but he didn't even notice it happened. He was too busy working my blue jeans off of me and my underoos with them. I lifted my butt up from the bed to help him. He kneeled in front of me and in no time at all was slobbering all over my dick. He paused momentarily and looked up at me.

"I hope your butt is clean, I wanna fuck you!" he told me before he attacked my dick again.

What the hell happened while I was gone?

This wasn't Thomas as I knew him. But I went with the flow, it was kind of funny seeing him like this. A nice change of pace too, just being able to relax and do whatever he wanted. If you can relax with a boy you really like between your legs doing all sorts of wonderful things to your dick with his mouth. He stopped far too soon, however.

"Pull your legs up," he commanded me.

This was a first, we hadn't done anything face to face other than the very few times where I had licked his ass. It was something I only did on special occasions. I secretly hoped for him to do that to me, but knew he'd never go that far with me. I did as he wanted, hefted my legs up and held onto the back of my thighs. It wasn't the most comfortable position, it put some strain on my stomach muscles.

He didn't have Nivea cream, but he had something almost as good, namely body lotion. He slathered some on my hole.

"Work it in yourself."

I fingered my own butt, nothing entirely new for me, but the first time I did it with someone else present. Thomas shucked off his own clothes, save for his socks, and he squirted some lotion onto his dick. The plastic bottle made a few farting noises as he pushed on it to get the lotion to come out. His dick had grown to a respectable 16 cm [6.3 inches] by that time. Exactly 1 cm [0.4 inch] longer than mine, which by then had reached the size it was meant to be.

His had gotten thicker too. About as thick as my own. I knew his tool was able to provide me with a great fuck if only Thomas would take it slow and make it last. This wasn't the first, and far from the last, time Thomas fucked me. It was just the position I was to be fucked in that was a first.

That and Thomas now taking control. He's changed and to the better.

I liked this new version of Thomas and watched as his dick made first contact to my hole. I could feel it too, of course, but the visual along with the sensory information made it like watching a movie with stereo sound. Well, surround sound now, if you like.

Where I previously had to rely solely on what my nerve endings would tell me, I could now see it happening. I could also easily tell Thomas just wouldn't be able to push his dick into me like that. He was too low for it to happen.

"You gotta get up on your knees higher," I advised him.

He looked up at me like he had forgotten I was in the room. At least he did as I had suggested. His first few tries ended in failed entries, which certainly didn't feel nice at all. It felt more like being stabbed in my ass. Finally, he got it figured out. He pushed his dick head inside my ass in pretty much the same fashion as I had when I first fucked him the very first time.

It made me appreciate the fact I had loosened my hole with two fingers before the main course of the meal. I winced, this was no baby dink sinking itself into me, it was bigger than Henry's had been and it hurt, though not unbearably so.

I knew it would stop hurting quickly and turn into this awesome sensation of being full. I had to put my hand on his stomach to keep him from pushing any deeper inside of me. When I felt ready, I moved my hand out of the way and back to hold my thigh.

Thomas quickly went deeper into me, further than ever before. The position let me see it all.

He looked down at where his dick had disappeared from sight. I didn't have the best vantage point to see the action, but I checked with the fingers of one hand. His pubic bone was pushed up against my perineum, his dick as far into me as it could go. I had never had this much meat inside my ass before and it felt sort of weird, but more importantly I could feel the sweet sensations from the prostate inside my bum.

When he began to slowly long-dick my hole, his dick head moved across that spot. On the in-stroke, it would slide into me, reach the happy spot and move beyond it. Then the reverse where he pulled almost all the way out of me. I closed my eyes to be able to better focus on the feeling of magic spreading throughout me from the center of my body. It felt massively better than anything Henry had done to me. Henry had just ever wanted to get off as quickly as possible.

Thomas on the other hand took his sweet time. Well, at least he did this time. He might have been missing our sex, but apparently he had finally realized his orgasm would be so much more powerful and satisfying if he took his time to reach it. He changed the speed of which he fucked me. Repeatedly. He had started out super-slow, when all of a sudden he was the energizer bunny on speed and he pummeled me for about a minute and a half.

He stopped abruptly with his dick pushed all the way inside of me.

I opened my eyes and when they were able to focus I saw him smiling as he looked at me. His breath was quick and shallow, like he had just done a 100 meter [330 feet] sprint on the track.

"I really missed this," he whispered to me and pulled out a tiny bit before he slammed his dick back into me.

"Ooh," I gasped as it forced some of the air out of my lungs.

"Like it?"

"Ye-aaa-aah."

When I started acknowledging I really liked it, he made a couple more short rapid thrusts into me. I had wanted to tell him it felt absolutely great, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. Not if he kept fucking me like that.

Unfortunately nothing lasts forever, nor did Thomas. He shot his sperm inside of me after he had fucked me silly for about 7-8 minutes. He recovered for a bit while we both lay on the bed next to each other, bringing us up to speed of what had happened when I had left for the boarding school. And then it was time for me to fuck him.

I just did it the usual way, nothing real fancy about it this time. Thomas stayed as he was, face down on the bed. All he could be bothered to do was reach back and hold his butt cheeks spread as I put a bit of his lotion on his bum hole.

I climbed on top of him and felt much more considerate than he had been when I slowly worked my dick into his tight ass hole.

Don't cum yet! Oh, please, don't you dare cum too soon!

The assault on my prostate had almost made me cum while being fucked and the sensation of Thomas' ass gripping my dick head so tightly almost triggered it before I could get it past his anus.

I would like to write I really showed him I was the boss, alas, I'm trying to keep it close to what really happened and I was in no shape to fuck him as hard as he had done me. What actually happened was I came within minutes of penetrating into him, but I did leave at least as much sperm deep inside of him as he had shot into me. I hadn't wanked for 2 consecutive nights after all.

It was a deeply satisfying Saturday morning to us both. That Saturday, the 21st of December 1991, I biked home from Thomas' place as a very happy, recently turned 16 years old boy, without a worry on my mind. Thomas went out of town with his family the very next day to go celebrate Christmas and New Year's Eve with his grandparents.

***

It turned out I hadn't needed to worry about getting bored during the holidays. I had brought home not only dirty clothing but also school/home work.

I wasn't about to stop learning simply because of the holidays. After all, I had taken enough time off at the beginning of the school year. I also knew it was pretty expensive for my parents to send me to boarding school, though the state paid some of the fees.

I didn't sit with my nose in a book for the entire holidays, though it probably would've been better for my grades. It was my mom who told me to stop working so hard.

"Teddy, it's the holidays. Relax a little. Spend some time with the family."

We never had any snow that Christmas. So my dad took me and Tom out racing on our bikes. We practised both on country roads and in the velodrome [an indoors cycling arena] about 30 km [~18 miles] away from my house. Yes it was cold when we had to cycle outside, but a healthy layer of tiger balm protected any exposed skin. And we weren't exactly sight-seeing as we rode. This was training. It was only when we had stopped for the day and until the car got warm we really got cold. Warm tea in thermos did wonders though.

A velodrome may look cool, but it is bloody dangerous to ride. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to ride on it safely. Once you start riding higher up on the sloped corners you got to keep the speed up at all time, otherwise you will take a nasty fall. And while the track may look nice and shiny and slippery, at least on TV, it isn't! The wood it's made from often has splinters in it and it sure doesn't feel nice when those splinters find their way into your skin when you crash.

I never found the courage to go all the way to the top of the slopes, only Tom and my dad would do that. Tom probably only did it to show off. But it was cool to see them race around at full speed while I rode on the inner-most and level part of the track. I only got about a meter up the first slope, before I quickly changed my mind and got back where I rightfully belonged. I'm not an idiot.

Flemming, my group teacher, had told me so and I trusted him.

Chapter 15
Back to school and off to Norway

Sunday the 5th of January, I went back to the school. After boarding the train at one end, I walked through it until I found my schoolmates also returning to school. We talked about what we'd been doing during the holidays and just a little about the presents we had gotten. As fifteen and sixteen year old young men and women, it was by then considered too childish to discuss presents. We did talk about them on the train ride, but never when we were at the school.

It took me a few days to get back into the routines at Carter, same as everyone else. Even the teachers who must have had tried it a million of times. Eventually we all settled into the somewhat strict, though caring environment that had been set up to educate us both academically and domestically. To help us through the transition from being children, and treated as such, to young adults. We were increasingly being treated like young adults by the teachers and staff too.

The teachers proved it as we were getting closer to our winter trip. The whole school would pick up for one week and travel to Norway. About a month after we had returned to school from the holidays, we were sat down in our pupil groups and told we had to make plans for the trip. We were going to be lodging in huts, two per group with no teachers to care for us. They'd be in their own huts, they weren't even going to bother checking up on us before we went to sleep.

"Going to sleep at a reasonable time will be your own responsibility. You can stay up all night if you want to, but you will participate in all events through-out the day, starting with the morning assembly in the conference room," Marjorie explained to my group.

First we were told to make a plan for breakfast, lunch and dinner. What to eat and drink and figure out who should cook the different meals. When we had finally managed to figure out a menu all of us deemed acceptable, Marjorie told us the amount of money we had in our budget. Which was way less than what we needed. We all were annoyed with her and told her so.

"Why didn't you tell us we'd be getting so little money from the start? It would've saved us a ton of time and arguments," Pat asked her.

"It might've saved you time, but debating is an important part of growing up. For instance, you didn't want fried liver and you explained why not. Though I can't say you thinking it feels like eating shoe soles is a valid point for not having it, you managed to convince the rest of the group to find another dish."

It was all part of the way the school taught us.

As to whom of us was going to cook, it was real easy. One of the kids, a seventeen year old adoptee from Korea said he was going to cook every meal for us the entire week. He wanted to be a cook so that was that. But it didn't stop at finding a cook, we had to plan who was going to do the cleaning of the hut and who would go shopping for food. We got it all worked out fairly smoothly, everyone getting their fair share of the chores.

Marjorie and Flemming didn't have to help us at all. It was just that one time when she told our menu plan wouldn't work out.

***

Finally Monday, February 18th, arrived where we'd get on the busses and head to Norway. There were two busses both double-deckers. Pat and I had agreed to sit next to each other on the upper deck and preferably in the very first row. To double our chances, we had split up, he went into one bus, me in the other. There were already kids lining up at the still shut back door, so I pulled a dirty trick on them. I went to the front door where the driver sat. He let me in when he saw me standing outside the door.

I asked him if he could give me a little head start before opening the rear door. He thought it was funny so he waited until I had reached the little stair case to the upper deck and then let the rest of the kids in. A few had followed me in through the front door, but they wanted the seats on the lower deck. As the kids waiting in line saw me already walking up the stairs they told me I had cheated and I couldn't have one of the front row seats.

I ignored them and hurriedly sat down, blocked the seat next to me and told the few kids who asked if they could sit there that I was saving it for Pat. I couldn't leave my seat, if I had, someone else would surely have stolen it from me. Fortunately Pat hadn't been able to get the preferred seats in the other bus and he came looking for me. He lit up in a big smile as he saw where I was sitting.

It was so cool sitting up there, particularly when we went under bridges and underpasses on the freeway. As we approached them, it really looked like the bus wouldn't be able to fit under them. We held our breath until the solid concrete passed just above our heads. It took us a couple of hours to get to a ferry crossing that would take us from Denmark to Sweden. And the crossing would take another four hours in all. The busses drove onto the ferry close to 8 PM.

We went into the cafeteria where we had a late-night dinner, nothing spectacular, but enough to fill my empty stomach. That left us with three hours and 15 minutes to kill before we had to be back on the busses. I went about on my own, checked out the ferry, even went out on the sun deck, but it was just too windy and bloody cold, not to mention dark as a miner's bum. I ended up in the games room, where a few kids from my school played the arcade-style games.

I watched one of them play, he was really good. I've never been any good at playing arcade games having to stand up in front of them. Nah, give me a computer with a keyboard and a mouse, that's my thing. Plus, I didn't want to spend any of what little spending money I had on playing games.

After a while of just watching I felt someone put a hand on my butt. At first I thought it was someone who had just brushed up against me by mistake or something.

But the hand didn't leave my butt, in fact it started caressing my cheek through my clothes!

I was still very shy, even if I had come out of my shell around the kids and some of the teachers at school. So I didn't really know what to do.

Please stop. Leave me alone and go touch someone else's bum!

I tried to work up the courage to just turn around and tell him or her off.

I just want to watch this kid play his game. Even if it is kind of boring.

The owner of the hand must have taken my silence as a way of consenting, as the hand went from just fondling my butt to trying to poke at my butthole. Which wasn't really possible as I wore a pair of blue jeans. That didn't discourage the person though.

You know what? This truly IS a boring game to watch!

I was also getting somewhat horny from the hand caressing my bum and worried about getting caught with a stiffy by one of the other kids.

So I walked away from the games room and saw a door with a sign letting me know it lead towards some of the cabins on the ferry. I went through it and waited in the narrow corridor behind it. I only really wanted my stiffy to go away. I hadn't thought whoever had fondled me would want to follow me into the corridor.

One can always hope, though.

The pneumatic sliding door suddenly and loudly squeaked open and a man came through it. He went past me, but when the door shut again he was right back next to me.

I checked him out quickly, thinking if he was a freak I could always walk or run away from him. I never considered the risk of him quite easily being able to take me somewhere against my will. There were no one but us in the corridor and it was quite noisy.

The man was a bit taller than me and quite husky but muscular. His face was clean-shaven and he had brown hair. I wasn't any good at judging ages at the time but I thought he was somewhere in his thirties. Not as old as my dad, though clearly he wasn't a really young man either.

He checked me out as well. Then he spoke to me in Norwegian using words I had trouble understanding.

"Vil du knulle?"

"Uh… I don't understand. English?" I asked him using my still somewhat bad English, of course.

"Okay. You a nice boy. Want to fun? With me?"

Hah, his english is worse than mine!

The way he was checking me out could only mean one thing though.

He wants to have sex with me! A grown man wants to have sex with me!

I was flattered, however I was also a bit nervous.

"Where? I don't have much time."

"In my truck, on car deck, below. Understand?"

Okay, one of the things I've always liked is big rigs. The long haulers. If he wanted to show me his, uh, truck, then I was game. If we were going to have sex inside his truck too, then fine by me. I was a bit curious as to how grownups had sex, if it would be any different from what I had done so far.

"Okay, only for 30 minutes," I agreed.

"Follow me, but not close."

He led the way down into the depths of the ferry. His truck was on the same deck as our busses, however it was on the other side of the ferry. It was a big white Volvo F16 Globetrotter with a huge refrigerated trailer humming noisily hitched onto it. He unlocked the door and ushered me up and into the cabin. I had been inside trucks before that time, but they had just been day trucks. This was bloody spacious with a big table-like shelf on the dashboard.

It looked a bit like the cockpit of a plane. There were so many switches and dials and he even had a CB or HAM radio with a microphone hanging from the ceiling. Next to it was a really small TV. Behind the two seats was a bed, which is where I went as the guy entered the cabin behind me. It was quite cozy back there, with some books and other less interesting items. He pulled the curtains in front of the windows of the truck.

Curtains in a truck? Fucking cool!

It got rather dark inside the cabin, the car deck had already been kind of eerily dimly lit. He threw a switch and soft indirect lights lit up all around the cabin where the walls met the ceiling. I quickly decided I wanted to have lights like that in my bedroom at home.

"Come take off clothes," the man told me.

Oh? Oh yeah, I'm not here to get interior design tips.

I pushed off my shoes and took off my shirt, then worked my blue jeans down and off my legs.

Where did I put my coat? Shit, what if someone stole it?

While I was worrying about having to run around coat-less in the cold of Norway, I could feel his hands on my body. More precisely on my hips where he grabbed hold of my underoos, the very ones he had tried so hard to push into my asshole earlier. He pushed them down as I got up on my knees. He had shucked his own clothing, all of it, while I had been taking notes of how to decorate my bedroom and worrying about my coat.

"You kiss?"

Woah, what? He wants to kiss? Me? Hell yes!

I didn't say the words, I just gave him my answer by puckering up my mouth towards him.

He took a gentle hold of my head and pulled me closer, tilting my head a little in the process. Then lowered his head towards mine. I closed my eyes at this point. It was like electricity when his lips first touched mine. His lips felt soft and a little moist. I guess he had licked his mouth just before touching lips with me. I felt them spread a little and his tongue coming out to play.

His tongue moved slowly over my lips for a while, then firmed up and demanded access to my mouth.

I ordered my lips to relax, to allow this foreign object to pass. It moved over the inside of my lips and I felt one of his hands move from my neck to my jaw bone. With the gentlest of touches it tried to get me to relax my mouth and open it. I wasn't forced or even coerced into doing it, just gently shown the way. I opened my mouth, not like I was at the dentist, just enough for his tongue slip in past the last defense made up by my teeth.

His tongue immediately sought out mine and pursuaded it to join the fun. It was nothing like I had pictured my first kiss. It was so much nicer. It may have been with an older guy, a man. One who was about twice my age. But I'm quite sure if I had gotten my first kiss from let's say Thomas, then it wouldn't have been nearly as nice.

This guy really knows how to kiss.

We swapped spit for five minutes or so. My lips felt almost bruised when he finally moved his lips from mine. He still held my head in his hands.

"You smoke. Naughty boy," he gently scolded me.

I blushed. More than I had already. I know my ears were burning hot. They always do when I have any kind of sex.

"Naughty, but cute," he continued, "May I make love to you?"

That was the first time I heard that expression for fucking. It sounded so much nicer. I had a quick look at his dick. It was a bit bigger than Thomas', but not much.

I nodded my consent.

He kissed me on my lips again. Even pushed his tongue into my mouth.

What's he up to? I thought he wanted to fuck me? Maybe making love really means to kiss?

He pulled away from me after only a short while and got some items from a small cupboard behind him. It was a flat cardboard box and a tube of something. When he opened the box I saw it contained condoms.

"Want to put on me?" He asked.

"I'm not any good at it," I said, remembering the single time I had tried to put one on my own dick.

"No worry. I have many, you can try until it right."

I took the box from him, it was like a book, with a strip of five condoms on one side and three on the other. I took out the three and ripped one of the foil enwrapped condoms from the others. It was a bit harder to rip open the foil and then the annoyingly slippery, strangely smelling condom popped one half out of the foil. Finally managing to get a good grip on it I removed it from the rest of the foil. I examined the latex piece in my hand, tried to remember how to tell which way to roll it on.

We had practiced putting condoms on bananas back in biology class, when we had learned about sex. The guy leaned back and left it up to me to pull back his foreskin. It was strange handling the cock of a guy I didn't even know the name of. It wasn't easy to get the condom to start rolling once I had gotten the head of his dick inside it. The little tip of it was full of air too. There wasn't supposed to be any air in it, that much I could remember. I got slightly frustrated and it must have shown as he gently took over.

He just whipped the condom off, rolled it up a bit then pushed the tip flat. He put it on his dick head, then started stroking his dick with downward movements only. It rolled the condom out enclosing his dick. He had to rearrange it when it got to the hairs, not only covering his pubic bone, but growing partway up the shaft too. He pushed a finger in underneath the condom and got it all the way onto his dick like that.

He handed me the small tube. At least this part I knew well. However, it wasn't cream or body lotion this stuff. It was the real deal and bloody slippery too. I couldn't see the entire name of it on the tube, but I could read part of it. It said Explorati then the tube wrapped up over itself, like a half-used tube of toothpaste. Only this tube was somewhat larger than toothpaste.

I'm not sure I would want to use this stuff for toothpaste.

"Put on me then your ass," he said.

Right, I know how this works, the cap off the tube, squeeze the tube… Oops, too hard. This stuff is thinner than cream.

That was for sure. As I smeared it onto his condom-wrapped cock I could feel just how slick the stuff made it.

That ought to do it.

I reached behind me to get some of the slick stuff worked into my hole. I really did have a lot of that clear stuff on my fingers, probably a lot more than was necessary. The man didn't say anything, just sat there looking at my body. Perving at it, if I'm to stick with the truth. He waited patiently though as I first got one finger worked into my hole, then a second. I considered a third, but decided I didn't want to be too loose. I wanted to feel that beast of a dick going in.

"How do you want me?" I asked when I figured my two fingers slipped in and out of my ass easily enough. My butt crack felt decidedly wet.

I put too much of that clear slippery stuff on.

"Turn around, on hand and knees," came the husked reply.

This was a new position to me. I had never once been taken like a dog. It was two new things in one day; First the kiss, then being fucked doggie-style. Three if you consider the ideas for my bedroom lights into the equation. This was turning into a downright Kinder Surprise chocolate egg, which I've always loved.

I shuffled around on my knees, the bed really wasn't very large, but I managed to turn around anyway. My clothes lay in front of me. Minus my underoos which I hadn't taken off myself. It wasn't the time to check where they were, so I backed up a little, made room for myself to get down on my hands. Like a dog! I actually considered barking, but that probably would've been much too childish for the guy.

And I want him to treat me like an adult. Not a kid. I want real sex, not just goofing around.

The man put a hand on my left hip and got closer to my upturned butt.

He held my hip tight as he put his dick to my hole. I felt the tip of the condom touch my butt cheek first, then the warm slippery hard point of his head. It slipped down the slope of my cheek towards my crack and ultimately the hole in the center. It was like it knew the way. That it had been making this trip many times before. I was no novice to being fucked either. I just hadn't thought of this position.

I felt the dick head at my opening. It pushed gently at it.

Too gently. It'll take hours for him to get it in like that!

I pushed back at him. With a pop and a gasp from me, his head sunk inside. That Explorati-whatever stuff was unbelievably good.

I have to figure out where to buy it. Nivea cream, fuck you!

"You want hard?" the trucker asked me.

I nodded. Not fully knowing what I was agreeing to.

"Get on elbows and keep head down."

When I did that, my face ended up in my shirt. I turned my head and looked back to see what he was going to do. With his dick still inside my ass, he got up into a squatting position and placed his hands on top of my shoulders. Bending over me like that, he started one of the best fucks I've ever had in my life so far. I don't know if it was because of the condom or if he just had so much experience and stamina, but it went on for a really long time too. At least that is how I remember it.

He used his powerful thigh muscles to really lay into me. If I had thought Henry was rough, and my last time with Thomas had been even rougher, this trucker put both of them to shame. I couldn't stop moaning and whining as he kept jack-hammering into my rear end. When I think back to it, I'm so happy we were onboard a noisy ferry with an even noisier trailer just behind us. Otherwise anyone walking past the truck would have thought a rape was taking place inside the cabin. Not that anyone did walk by, the lower decks were strictly off-limits to passengers during the voyage.

As rough as I was being manhandled I also quite enjoyed it. His cock working like a piston in me felt like it had been molded exactly right for my ass. It just kept knocking into my prostate, and without as much as touching my dick I came violently onto his bedding after a few minutes of being hammered. He must've been able to tell I was orgasming, as my ass really gripped his dick in desperately tight spasms, but he just kept fucking me. That prolonged my orgasm to the point where I really thought I'd pass out if he kept it up.

I could hear him breathing quickly and loudly in between my own moans. My mouth was getting dry from breathing so hard through it. But I just couldn't get enough air through my nostrils alone. I tried to work up some spit but it was hard to keep my mouth shut for a sufficient length of time. His hold on my body felt like I was in a vise. After I came down from my orgasm his undulation of my poor backside immediately stopped feeling great to me.

He kept on going for a couple of minutes or so while I felt like I was being ripped apart. By then my prostate had recharged. I didn't reach another orgasm while he spent the next five minutes fucking me to his own orgasm, but he kept me right on the very edge of one. He gradually ran out of steam, slowed down and got back down on his knees. Letting go of my shoulders, he held onto me on both sides of my hips.

He didn't push it all the way inside when he came like I would have. And how Henry and Thomas had done to me, instead he pulled his dick completely out of me, then reinserted only his dick head. Repeatedly. Like when a spurt of sperm would shoot out of his dick into the condom, his dick head would be just inside my quivering asshole. Finally he stopped sticking his dick head into me, and slumped down on top of me, kissed my ear and the back of my head.

I thought we were done by then, but after a minute he got off of me and told me to turn over on my back. I wasn't really ready for any more sex or so I thought. However, he just never stopped until he had coerced a few weak spurts of cum out of my dick into his sucking mouth.

I had entered his truck like a kid but I left his truck as an extremely well-fucked man!. That's how I remember feeling and thinking. The man had taken his time to wipe my ass really well and had even helped me into my clothing. I'm not sure if I would've managed to put on my jeans by myself. My butt really hurt. He had given me 900 Swedish kroners [$100] and a carton of cigarettes. I didn't want to take any of it, however he had convinced me.

I quickly sought out a toilet after I got back on the upper deck. I seriously needed to wash my face and just sit and cool down in a stall, before rejoining my schoolmates like nothing had ever happened.

Oh yes, my coat, I got it from Pat when I finally went back to the cafeteria where the teachers had set up base. I had been sitting on the toilet for about an hour with my pants down. Sitting in the bus for the remaining nearly nine hours of the trip through the night wasn't easy. But I had 800 Swedish kroners in my pocket, a carton of smokes in my bag and a lot of candy bought on the ferry. And a great experience richer. I fell asleep sitting in that seat next to Pat with a small, tired and very happy smile on my face.

Chapter 16
Andy, the young years

I might have had a lot of sex from an early time in my life, but I never really experienced love. Well, the kind of love you'd get from someone you're in a relationship with. Oh, I knew I was loved by my parents, they had proved that so many times during my life. It sure couldn't always have been easy for them to love me though. I always seemed to screw up and do something stupid to test their patience. But, if I have to point out just one single episode in my life where I didn't screw up, it would be when I learned I was going to be a dad myself.

Even if my life hadn't exactly followed the direct route towards fatherhood, I took on that responsibility without any questions asked. Well, almost none. Andy just sort of landed in my lap without prior notice. Now, he was there I wanted to put my own needs aside for his. To give him all the opportunities to grow up in a caring and loving environment. Much like my own childhood but without any of the bad things that had happened to me.

I knew I couldn't simply wrap him up and shield him from ever getting hurt. That's, after all, a major part of learning, to be able to make your own experiences. But I wanted him to know from a very early age that I would be there for him, whenever he needed me. In the first couple of years my job as a dad was relatively simple. Simple, but no less tiresome. Fortunately his mom was a great parent. As per our agreement she was the main parent in the first three years of Andy's life.

She put her career on hold by taking maternity leave for seven months, one month before and the rest after Andy's birth. I kept working as we needed my income, only taking a couple of days or a week off at times when she needed my help with Andy. I made it a habit to walk to her house in the mornings before going to work to check up on how the night had been. If Andy had kept Michelle up the entire night, I'd call my workplace and tell them I'd be coming to work later that day.

Then Michelle could get some sleep while I took care of Andy. I loved the times where I'd sit with him in my arms looking into his big curious eyes. They were so full of life. Making him smile was only a matter of smiling myself. When I gave him a heated bottle of his mother's breastmilk he would suck hungrily at it, like he was famished, as if he was afraid he'd never get to eat again. When burping him, holding him up so he was looking over my shoulder, he would spit out some of the milk.

People who don't have kids may think that is gross, just like I had used to. But this was Andy. I didn't see it as gross. Not even the stuff that came out the other end. While changing a shitty diaper never became a favorite pass time of mine, he really couldn't do it on his own and I loved being able to turn him into a squeaky clean little boy again. When he was breastfeeding it wasn't really offensive anyway, well if only I hadn't been able to see colors. I don't know how something, which goes in whitish/yellowish, can come out in so many different colors.

It didn't smell all that bad and it wasn't like it took hours to wipe it off his cute little bum and penis, or when it was really bad, from the middle of his back and down. When that happened it was easier to just get into the shower with him and use the handheld sprayer to wash it off. When he took to eating more solid foods, things changed at the other end too. But I won't really go any deeper into that.

Andy was a very quiet boy, never fussing much, hardly ever crying. When he was learning how to walk, he would often hit his head, either by losing his footing and fall over hitting whatever he had been using for leverage with his head. Or he would hit it into the floor with a rather impressive sounding impact. He'd just look up as if to make sure his mother or I had seen it, then get back up and try again.

We were a little worried if he was one of these kids who could feel no pain at all, until one day he landed on top of his little hand. He cried out loud and I could tell he had dislocated one of his small fingers. It must have hurt like hell, but after the first shock had died down he stopped crying. At the emergency room he wanted to walk around even though his finger was pointing in the wrong direction. He wasn't real happy when he was examined but only screamed at that very moment the doctor put his finger back into place.

He had of course gotten pain killers stuck into his little bumhole prior to the finger was put back. I may live in a land where Vikings used to roam, but we're not brutes here anymore, not all of us anyway.

Whenever I could and whenever the sky was somewhat clear, I'd take him to a nearby park and watch him play on the playground. There were other kids he could play with there. The other parents who took their kids there were mostly the moms. Sometimes a dad or two would bring their kids to the playground. Then we would talk and sort of compare notes as to the development of our kids.

I didn't have much else in common with the other dads other than we were all dads. I doubt either of them had experienced the stuff I had growing up, though I guess I can't rule it out completely. It wasn't exactly like I was bragging to them about submitting to a grownup trucker when I had only just turned 16. Or fucking Thomas at an even earlier age than that. But the way they were always openly checking out women, was much the same way I'd check out boys and really young men myself. Of course I had to be a lot more subtle when I watched my eye candy.

Besides I had to keep at least one eye on Andy at all times. He'd wander off without a care in the world if he saw anything that looked interesting. To Andy, most everything seemed to be interesting. Even if it was just a leaf being picked up by the wind in autumn, he had to try to catch it to check it out. Snails and insects were high on the list of interesting items too. I got to thinking that if you looked up the word curiosity, then you'd find a picture of Andy.

We, his mom and I, didn't try to put a stop to his constant wanting to understand how things worked. Apart from the times where he'd want to investigate really dirty stuff like dog crap. That's where I'd put my foot down. No, not literally, I didn't step in the dog crap. I would explain to him that it wasn't something to be touched and examined. For the next couple of months, every time he saw something a dog had left behind, he'd loudly make me and everyone else nearby aware of it.

"Dada, dada, doggie poop. Andy no touch."

Clever boy, but at times he could be rather embarrassing.

***

At about age three Andy got really interested in private bits. His mom and I had agreed to not shield him from seeing us in the buff. We didn't want him to grow up thinking that there was anything wrong with being nude. In private that is, or at the beach. Yeah we let him splash where the small waves hit the shore without clothes on. We really didn't see any reason to cover him up until he was around four. While we were at the beach, of course.

"My daddy has a penis, my daddy has a big penis, my daddy has a BIG PENIS!" He yelled out just as we had stepped onto a bus one morning.

Michelle, Andy and I were going to her parents in Copenhagen and it was just so much easier using public transportation to get there. Vacant parking spaces in Copenhagen aren't easy to find and the fees are crazy expensive. But we got on that bus, about halfway full of people, and then Andy decided to make them all aware of the size of my dick. I did get slightly embarrassed, though deep down I was happy he hadn't said I have a small dick.

I'd like to think I got some appreciative looks from the women on the bus and maybe even a few envious stares from the men. I was really too busy getting to an empty seat where I could sit with Andy before the driver sped off from the stop. As I sat down, Andy in my lap and Michelle next to us, this elderly lady in front of us turned around.

"They are quite outspoken at that age aren't they?" she said and winked at me and smiled to Andy.

"My daddy has a big penis," he told her just in case she hadn't heard his announcement earlier.

"I'm sure he has, dear," she told him, "but you shouldn't go telling that to everybody."

"But it's true." That was me who said the last bit. And if you believe that, I'd smack you hah. No, it was of course Andy. He had clearly misunderstood the nice elderly lady. She was probably someone's grandmother.

"They don't want to know, Tiger," I told him softly in his ear.

"Then they are dumb!"

"Maybe they are. Hey, look at that. See the police car down there? Wave to them," I told him.

So Andy waved at the police car next to the bus, and as true luck would have it, the officer sitting in the passenger seat saw him and waved back.

"Did you seed? He waved to me!" Andy was really excited.

Thankfully that was all he talked about when we got to Michelle's parents. My dick all but forgotten, for the time being anyway. I didn't think much of his fascination towards my dick at that time, he was after all just a little sweet kid and all kids at one time in life goes through that stage. His interest in private bits eventually decreased and I thought it wouldn't reappear until he got much older. At least not until he'd enter puberty.

But when Andy was five, I got a call on my cellphone while I was putting in a little overtime at work. It was Michelle. She told me Andy had come home from a playdate all but devastated. He wouldn't tell her what was wrong, so she had called the mother of the boy he had played with. She wouldn't tell Michelle what had happened, just that "that filthy boy" would never be allowed to play with her son again. It reminded me somewhat of my own childhood.

I told Michelle I'd wrap up my work right then and come home. I was a systems administrator and had been working to install a new server in a rack. I had only wanted to do it that late afternoon/early evening to get a head start. The server wasn't needed until a few days later. I was the only one left at work from the department, so it wasn't as if I had to cancel anything to go home earlier than I had expected. I just wanted to know what Andy and his friend had been up to before I'd talk to the mother.

When I got to Michelle's house and let myself in, she was sitting in the kitchen.

"Andy simply refuses to talk to me. He's in his room, hiding under his bed. He won't come out," she told me, clearly upset. Like I hadn't been able to tell from her voice over the phone.

"I'll give it a go," I told Michelle.

I walked to his room, sat down on his bed after closing the door behind me. I sat for a few minutes, waiting patiently. Sometimes it's just better not to say anything, but still be in the same room as Andy. This time was no different.

"I'm not coming out ever again!" I heard a small voice from below me.

"I think it'll be mighty hard for you to find someone to be your girlfriend down there," I told him keeping my voice real calm and soft.

"I don't want a girlfriend, daddeeee!" he whined, objecting to my proposal like it was the worse insult in the world. Which it probably was to him too. But we were talking. That was at least something.

"Then what do you want?"

Ugh, this made me sound like my dad or even worse, my mom. This wouldn't work.

"I dunno. Stay here."

"Do you want to tell me what happened over at Michael's house today?"

"NO!"

"Did you and Michael play?"

"Yes."

"What games did you play?"

"I'm not telling!"

So, he would only answer yes or no questions. I had to think of something to ask so I'd get more information. I had an idea of what might have taken place, but I didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

"Did you play in his room?"

"Yes."

"On the floor?"

"Yes… No."

"Did you play both on the floor and maybe on his bed?"

"Yes."

Okay, it was getting a bit warmer, but still they could have played any number of games on that bed. I really didn't want to ask questions that might put ideas into his head. That is if he hadn't thought of it yet. You know, like sex stuff.

"Was it fun?"

"Yes."

"Did you play with toys on the bed?"

He didn't answer my question. For a moment I wondered if he had heard me.

"No," he finally said.

So two boys playing and having fun on a bed without toys. Yeah, I had a pretty clear idea of what had happened now, but they were only five. Had I been doing that when I was five? After picking my brain for a few seconds, I could find a short movie clip stored in it. Casey and me, playing doctor. No, not that exactly. A doctor wouldn't have had his nose almost touching his patient's butt. While having a close up look at his butthole.

"Were you naked?"

No reply, whatsoever.

"Did you see his penis?"

I heard a small gasp from under the bed. Otherwise nothing.

"Andy, there's nothing wrong with two boys showing their penis to each other. Not if they both have fun. You had fun right?"

"Yes."

"Did Michael have fun?"

"I think?"

"Now then, did you see his penis?"

"Yes."

"Did you show him yours?"

"Yes."

Way to go son!

I wanted to congratulate him. Alas, I didn't.

"Did you touch his penis?"

"Yes."

"Did he like it?"

"Yes."

"Did he touch your penis?"

Again, a gasp. Then I could hear him start crying softly.

"Andy?"

"I'm bad," he sobbed.

Oh shit. Not that. Not again. I had said those words myself. No, not that Andy was bad. That I was bad. I knew all too well what it must have been for Andy to say that to me. And he was only five. No five year-old boy should think he is bad. Not for doing something that was as innocent in nature as to explore his friend's penis. So normal and pure. I had to set that woman straight. But more importantly I had to get Andy to feel better about it all.

"Andy, you're not bad! You didn't do anything wrong."

"She said I was."

Damn that woman.

"Will you come up here, Andy?"

"No!"

"Well, if you're not coming out to me, I'm coming down to you."

"I'm not!"

Won't you go take a dump in a top hat!

It was an expression we had used at the boarding school I went to. I hadn't used it in years, I don't know why I thought of it then. Still it seemed like an appropriate thought given the situation. I got down on the floor and snaked in underneath Andy's junior bed. At least the floor was clean, but the confined space made it quite uncomfortable. I could have just pulled him out from under there, it would have been much easier for me.

Andy weighed in at about 20 kg [40 lbs.] dripping wet. But if I had dragged him out from under his bed, I would've moved him out of his comfort zone. It would've made it even harder for me to make him understand he wasn't bad. That he was a really sweet and caring, 100% normal boy. A boy who had only played a game most boys play at one time or another during their childhood, mostly with no harm done. There had been no harm done here either, only by the stupid, ignorant mother.

It had been easy for Andy to get in under his bed. He was about 108 cm [3 feet 7 inches] tall, whereas my 181cm [5 feet 11 inches] long body didn't exactly fit underneath his bed. He was curled up facing the wall. I got as close to him as I could and put my hand on his side. I wanted to hug him, but the darn space between the floor and the bottom of his bed didn't allow for it. I was lying face down, with only my shoulders and head under the bed.

"It's not really comfortable down here, is it?" I asked my son.

"I don't care."

"Want to hear a story from when I was five?"

"'Kay."

"Okay. You see, when daddy was five, he had this friend. Daddy's friend was five too. His name was Casey," I started.

I spoke in my low story telling voice I usually used when I told him stories when he was to go to sleep. I didn't need to read him stories from books, I let Michelle do that. I could make up far more exciting stories where he was part of the story. He really enjoyed those and came up with some cool suggestions from time to time when we were in his bed. He'd be propped up under my arm as I sat leaning against the wall behind his bed.

"Was he your bestest friend?" Andy asked.

"He was daddy's very best friend. He and daddy would do everything together. Even taking baths together."

"Cool!"

"Yeah, it was, we had so much fun. We would go and play on the swings seeing who could swing the highest."

"That's really fun."

"Yeah it makes your tummy tickle," as I said the word tickle, that's what my fingers did to his side.

He giggled and squirmed. But I didn't tickle him for more than a couple of seconds. I wanted him to hear what I had to say. To learn from it.

"You know what else Casey and daddy did?"

"No?"

"We looked at each other naked."

"Really?"

"Yup, we sure did. Casey looked at me, all over."

"Even your penis?"

"Especially my penis. It was fun."

And exciting in other ways than just having fun.

"It sure is," Andy agreed.

"And Casey would let daddy look at his body, all over. Even his butt."

"Eeeewww."

If only you knew son, if only you knew.

"It was a little bit eww I guess. But it was all a lot of fun."

"Did you do more?"

"Yes, daddy would touch Casey's penis and Casey touched daddy there too."

Oh the sweet memories of childish curiosity and exploring come flooding back, the sense of doing something my parents would think was very naughty only made it so much more exciting and added to the thrill.

"Wow!"

"Yeah it was really fun. So you see? What you and Michael did today isn't bad."

"His mommy yelled at us."

"Daddy will talk to his mom. She's a girl. Girl's don't always get what boys do."

"Girls are dumb!"

"They are different from us guys. They are not dumb, Andy."

"Ugh." I could hear Andy wasn't in agreement with me on this topic.

Andy was finally ready to come out from his hiding place. I helped him up and sat him on my lap facing me. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a big bear hug. Yeah, I am sort of living up to my nickname, my stomach could've been flatter. Having a job where I mostly sat in a chair in front of a computer meant I'd have to go to a gym to stay in shape. And that is simply something I've never enjoyed and lack the discipline to do. Oh my nickname? It's Bear. Shouldn't come as a surprise, really.

"Everything is going to be alright, Tiger," I promised him. Not knowing at the time, I was telling him a big fat ugly lie.

The talk I had with Michael's mother. Well, I wish I could say it ended the same way in a big hug and all was fine afterwards. I've met people who don't like gays plenty of times. But this woman, she was one of the worst. She was afraid my son would pass his gay disease to her son. She couldn't or just would not understand that being gay is something that you're being born as. That you can't contract it like it's the flu. That Andy most likely wasn't even gay.

He was only five. How could anyone call him gay? He didn't even know the word, or if he did, he wouldn't have been able to comprehend the full meaning of it.

Well, Andy lost his playmate that day. Fortunately at his age, it was fairly easy to distract him from thinking too much of his loss. Michelle and I gave him a couple of days to mourn over not being able to play with Michael and then we set out to find him another friend. One, who had parents that would be more open to just letting boys be boys.

Andy had met Michael on the playground and we hadn't really gotten to know his mother so well before we arranged for them to play with each other at her house. At least it hadn't been a boy from his kindergarten, then he'd have to see him all the time there, without being able to play with him at home. That would have been too much like my relationship with Casey back at my first school. But there was a family with a boy close to Andy's age living in our street.

***

I think I told you about Michelle's and my arrangement to move closer together all for the sake of our son. I didn't really get into too many details about it, having way too many other things to talk about at the time. But we lived in two townhouses on the same street, even on the same side of it. We wanted it so Andy could walk between the two houses whenever he felt like without having to be walked by one of us.

That way, we could easily switch between being the primary parent and the supporting parent. It also meant Andy would be going to the same kindergarten and eventually school no matter which of his parents' houses he'd stay at. From the time Andy turned three he slept seven days at my house and seven days at his mother's house. It was a great way of living. Andy was happy with it, received all the attention he needed from either of us parents.

He had a bedroom at both our houses of course. He'd bring whatever toys he thought he'd like to play with from my house to Michelle's, and the other way around. And if he had forgotten something, it was just a quick short walk to get it. There were a few differences from his bedroom in my house to his bed at Michelle's, but only minor ones.

His bed at my house was quite different though. It was a bunk bed I had spent some time modifying. When I had first seen the bed on display, I just knew it would be perfect for Andy. Sure, he was an only child, but hopefully he wouldn't be a lonely one. So the top bunk could always be used by a friend sleeping over.

The lower bunk was Andy's bed and it kind of resembled the cabin of the truck I'd been in. Yeah, I had held onto the information of how the lights and curtains worked for all those years. And it was simple to put up curtains which would convert the lower bunk into a cave-like space when pulled.

A strip of LEDs all around the edges of the bottom of the top bunk gave the same effect as the indirect lights in the cabin. As they were dimmable they worked well as a nightlight for Andy until he could go to sleep without it. He had a normal lamp in there too, which he later used when he got old enough to read by himself. But, he never really grew bored from my made up tales, I kept adjusting them to his age and level of comprehension as he grew older. He also loved listening to my stories of what I did when I was around his age.

***

Anyway, we invited a family living in the street over for an evening of downright coziness. It was just about hanging out and talking, getting to know each other. We really hit it off with them. They had a girl and a boy, aged seven and six. Though their boy was one year older than Andy, we thought maybe they'd like to be friends. Andy was wise beyond his years, sometimes acting like he was a much older kid. Their boy, John, seemed like a nice enough kid. That was our impression of him from the times we had seen him playing in the street.

Judging by the way our kids were playing tag in Michelle's, not so very large, backyard, they were having a nice time too. It was Jane, their daughter, who had to tag the boys when I had a look out the window. She tried to catch John but when he proved too fast for her, she turned her attention to Andy. He squealed from laughter as she took chase. It wasn't a fair match, Jane had much longer legs than Andy and quickly caught up to him. He tried to get out of her reach by shifting directions like a rabbit, but slipped on the grass and toppled over.

Jane fell on top of him, she had been that close.

I was about to get out of my chair to check on them when I heard laughing instead of the crying I had expected. I still went out to see what they were up to. Jane was tickling Andy who was thrashing about underneath her. John joined in as well. Andy was on his back on the grass, Jane sitting on his chest with her bum nearly in his face. John caught Andy's legs and sat on top of them by his ankles. It was easy for John to push Andy's shirt out of the way baring his flat stomach. He started blowing raspberries on Andy's stomach while Jane tickled both sides of his ribs.

I let them do it, quite enjoyed the giggles and hearty laughing from all three kids. After a short while, I could tell it was getting a bit too much for Andy, but instead of telling the kids off, I decided to even out the scores a little. I snuck up behind Jane who hadn't noticed me and picked her up with my hands in her armpits. I put her down on the grass next to Andy and really tickled her ribs. As she was laughing her head off, Andy was now able to sit up and fend off John's attacks to his stomach with some tickling of his own.

When all three kids finally ran out of steam, they sort of just lay there on their backs taking in the cool evening air in huge gasps. I got up from the lawn, feeling quite pleased with myself of how I handled a situation that could have ended in someone not having fun.

"You're really great with children, you know that, Teddy?" Lyle, the father asked me.

I smiled at him, "Thanks, you've done a good job raising your kids too. They are so well-behaved."

The visit ended half an hour later as it was high time to get a rapidly tiring Andy ready for bed and the couple went home with their kids.

Seeing as I was at Michelle's house anyway, I took it upon me to get Andy ready for bed, even though it was her week with him. She thanked me and started picking up the living/dining room. I told Andy to go into the bathroom while I'd get his pajamas and the thick diaper, he unfortunately still needed to sleep in. I ran a shallow bath for him and he tiredly got into the tub.

"How was your day, Tiger?" I asked as I lathered up his back and chest with liquid soap.

"It was fun!" He splashed his hands into the water when he said the word fun.

"I could tell. Lift up your arms for me."

He did and I washed his arms and armpits. This always got some giggles out of him, even if I tried to make it more into a massage. Tonight was no different.

"Okay Tiger, stand up for me."

He got up still giggling and I washed his cute little penis and balls. I cleaned behind his foreskin with water only and then turned my attention to his bum and legs. This got quite a few squeals out of him too.

"Okay, sit please."

He got down on his bum and lifted his feet out of the water so I could wash them clean too. They were almost green from all the running he had done barefoot in the backyard. He nearly fell backwards into the bathtub as I scrubbed them with the sponge Michelle kept in the bathroom. Finally getting all the dried up juices from the grass off his feet, I turned my attention to his blonde mop of hair. It was cut in a mushroom-shaped way and was getting quite longish.

He tilted his head all the way back and put his hands protectively over his eyes. I was always careful and did my best to not get soap into his eyes but sometimes the bubbles just had a life of their own. A brief time later with a really thorough massage of his soapy hair, I took the handheld sprayer. After making sure the water temperature was right I rinsed out the soap from his hair, then told him to stand up in the tub. I let the water out of the tub, much to Andy's disappointment.

"Nooo, daddeeee!"

"I know you like to play in the tub after I've washed you, Andy, but it's much too late for that tonight. All the other boys your age has already gone beddy-bye."

Yeah, you're right, I really should stop talking to Andy in toddler-language, but sometimes it's hard to stop doing something that has turned into a habit. If it's any excuse, it was done out of love.

I rinsed the rest of his body off with the clean water from the sprayer, grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around him. Then I hefted him out of the tub and sat him on his feet on the small fluffy rug Michelle had on the floor. I always dried him off like it was a timed event as I hated to see him shivering from the relatively cool air in the bathroom. We had to blow-dry his hair after each bath, otherwise it would really tangle up overnight, making for a teary eyed Andy the next morning when we tried to comb out all the knots.

Sometimes I thought it easier if we just gave him a crewcut, but Michelle roared at me, much like a lioness protecting her cub, when I made the suggestion to her. Her little boy wasn't to go around and be bald or look like he was some private in the army. I pointed to my own hair when she said that and asked if I looked bald to her. I have kept my hair in a crewcut ever since I joined the National Guard and to this day I still cut it like that.

"I don't care how you have your hair done. But I will kill you if you do anything like that to Andy!" She told me.

And I believed her. Andy was indeed cute with that bobbed hair style too. It was just a bitch having to spend ten to fifteen minutes blow-drying it every night.

Finally done with his hair, Andy was yawning pretty badly. I had him up on the countertop next to the sink so he could brush his teeth while I had dried his hair. He was getting better at it, but I made sure to do it for him properly. Still, he had to practice. I couldn't be brushing his teeth for the rest of his life. I had him lay down on the countertop so I could get the diaper on him.

It could be done with him standing, but it was just easier to get it snug while he was lying on his back. After quickly getting him into his cute onesie style pajamas I carried him into his junior bed.

He was already out cold as I gently tucked him into bed.

No story needed tonight.

I went out to the backyard and pulled out a cigarette. I sat there just enjoying my smoke and the cool evening air when Michelle came out and joined me.

"Thanks, Teddy."

"No problem, I don't mind getting him ready for bed." I really didn't. Apart from the blow-drying of his hair.

"They were very friendly, weren't they?"

"Yeah, I think so. And their kids were so nice to Andy."

"I heard them tickle him. I was worried they wouldn't stop before it would get too much for him."

"So was I, but I think it'll work out great."

"Yep. Cheryl said something like 'kids will be kids right' when Lyle went out to you."

"We can only really wait and see. Time will tell."

She nodded.

"You want to stay over for the night?" She asked me.

"No, I can't tonight. I need to get to work early in the morning. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just been some time since the last time. I was kind of hoping, you know?"

Yes, we still had sex, Michelle and I. Not very often and nothing that was really mind blowing to me. She was trying to hook up with a new man, but not many were interested when they found out she had a kid. Most had run away before they learned that I, the kid's father, lived only two doors down the street. The rest left when they found out about that. I didn't really care if she did find a guy, as long as he would never try to take my place as Andy's father. If anyone had tried, he wouldn't have known what had hit him when I had done with him.

"Sorry, Michelle, not tonight. I might be able to tomorrow, though."

"I'll keep you to your word. Now, get lost so I can get some sleep before the little animal wakes me up."

"Sleep well."

I went home and got into bed myself. I was exhausted but I couldn't really fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Andy's little boy dick. I could even remember how it had puffed out just a little as I washed it that night. The way he had lifted his legs up allowing me to place the diaper under his bum. He had shown me everything he had without a shame in the world. But why should he have been feeling ashamed? I was his daddy after all.

I am his daddy!

It was the last coherent thought I had that night.

Chapter 17
Andy and his new friend, John

The next day, Michelle talked to Cheryl and had John over for a playdate with Andy. Unfortunately I wasn't there and I can only really pass on the information that I got from her. Basically she just said that it went fine. When I asked her for more details she told me the boys had been having a water fight in the backyard. Oh, what I wouldn't have given to have been there to witness it in person. I'd probably not just been watching the boys, I would've joined in. The two boys aged five and six had been trying to get each other as wet as possible.

They had been wearing shorts and t-shirts. At least that's how they started out. As their clothes got wetter, they started taking them off, one item at a time. So in the end, they had run around in just their underwear. Andy in his tight boxer briefs, I wonder if they had been the white ones. If so, nothing would've been left to your imagination. They would've been pretty much transparent. His little groin and bum cheeks closely hugged by wet cotton fabric.

John wasn't too shabby looking either. His chubby cheeks really made him look cute. The night when we had invited him and his family over, he had played in the backyard with Andy and his sister. I had noticed his facial expressions as he played. When he had considered whom to tag, he had a super cute look of pretend seriousness on his face. Eyebrows furrowed, hand holding his chin, while he looked back and forth at first his sister then Andy.

Then suddenly he'd launch himself into a run chasing after whomever he had decided he wanted to tag.

His body wasn't bad looking either, a little heavier than Andy, but nothing extreme, just a few kilos more than normal. Whatever normal is anyway. He was about 10 cm [~4 inches] taller than Andy. That would make him around 120 cm [3 feet 11 inches] and probably weighed in at 30kg [~66 lbs.]. He carried the little extra weight really well. But a young boy, even one as young as six, couldn't possibly be ugly in my eyes. I'd always be able to find something I appreciated no matter what he looked like.

I was well pleased that it seemed like Andy had gotten himself a new friend with just a little help from his mother and I. I'm not sure if we had really needed to make that little push in the right direction, but it sure was a nice change from the sulky miserably boy Andy had been while he mourned over losing Michael as a friend.

However, it wasn't until about two months later I fully understood just what the two boys were up to when they were playing without adult supervision.

That I was to be included in some of their secret games wasn't something I had really considered, though I had dreams at night of having sex with Andy. Sometimes images of his naked body briefly crossed my mind as I'd jerk off to gay porn found on the Internet. But I truly never considered it something that I'd ever be doing with him. I'd never do anything to hurt Andy, not physically and certainly not his brilliant young mind.

Michelle and I started to hang out with John's parents. Lyle, John's father, was a car mechanic and I was a car enthusiast. I made small repairs on the old Volvo 740 estate I drove and when I ran into problems I couldn't fix on my own, Lyle was always willing to lend a hand. At first Cheryl and Lyle thought it strange Michelle and I weren't living together, but after I told Cheryl I was gay and we only lived so close due to Andy, they seemed to understand.

They still thought of it as rather unusual, still, they could see the benefits our living so close to each other gave us. They didn't have any problems allowing John over on sleepovers at my house when I had Andy. Lyle was often at my house having an evening beer with me. More often than not, we'd be standing with both our upper bodies deep inside the engine bay or underneath my car. We treasured those moments, where we could be men and not be interrupted by children or women.

It was mostly Lyle who enjoyed not having his kids around constantly. Andy was actually quite the little helper when I worked on my car. Even if it was just washing and cleaning it, he'd volunteer his help and though he was only five it didn't stop him from trying to vacuum the car seats and floor. I just considered myself lucky for having an old car where the paint job really wasn't important, since Andy was much more eager than able to control the hose on the vacuum cleaner.

When John spent the night with Andy, I'd give them both a bath at night just before bedtime. Fortunately John's normal bedtime was the same as Andy's even if he was a year older. I'd get them in the bathtub earlier than usual so I'd have the time to clean two little boys and still get them in bed at a reasonable hour. Though, I focused mostly on Andy, I washed John in much the same fashion as my son.

With one minor difference, as John had been circumcised at birth. When I casually asked Lyle why his son's penis had been cut, he told me they had been vacationing in Florida. Cheryl had been 8 months pregnant with John and wasn't due to give birth until a couple of weeks after they returned to Denmark. But she went into labor earlier than expected and John was born in an American hospital. I didn't get all the details, but John ended up being cut.

It made my washing of his penis much simpler compared to Andy, where I'd have to pull back his foreskin to clean out the gunk that would amass under the ridge of his little glans. Not that there would be a whole lot of it, it was just part of the routine wash really. With John I could just wrap my soapy fingers around his balls and penis and massage his entire package then let my hand slide out the small length of his penis. Every time I did that, it left him with a firm erection jutting out from his groin.

Both boys found it hilarious when they'd get a stiffy in the bath. They'd play with them of course, mostly their own, but would also just reach over and fondle each other. In particular after they realized I didn't tell them off. It wasn't a full on masturbation session, just playful poking or sometimes a few strokes amidst lots of giggling. I left the boys in the bathtub to play for ten minutes on their own. I'd sit and have a cigarette in my lawn chair before I'd get them out of the bath.

I always got Andy dried off first, then sat him on the counter so he could brush his teeth while I'd dry off John. John would then sit on the toilet taking his evening dump while I blow-dried the annoyingly long mop of Andy's hair. When John had done his business he'd stand in front of the sink and brush his teeth. He followed my every move when I got Andy into his diaper, but never said anything demeaning to Andy about it.

He had asked why Andy had to wear a diaper the first time he spent the night, but it was only out of curiosity. When I told him Andy couldn't sleep for an entire night without peeing, he just said okay, and that was all he ever said about it. It didn't keep him from having a good look when Andy was on the counter though. With both boys in their jammies I got comfortable sitting on Andy's bed, but with two boys it took some planning.

I usually sat with my back up against the wall at the head end of his bed with Andy lying next to me. His head resting on my chest/shoulder and my lower arm on his chest. I didn't want John to feel left out, so I had him lie on his back on my right hand side. He usually ended up on his stomach with one leg in between my thighs and the other between me and the wall. He would prop up his head looking at me while I told my bedtime tales.

I'd spend around fifteen minutes just talking slowly and gently and the boys would comment in much the same way. John would mostly just listen, not saying much when we lay there. I knew he wasn't afraid of me, so that wasn't the reason. Maybe he just preferred or had gotten used to from home, to only listen and not converse during the bedtime routine.

When I finished my story for the night I'd lift John up into the upper bunk, stand on the edge of the lower bunk and tuck him in with a small kiss to his forehead. Afterwards, I'd tuck Andy in and give him a little goodnight kiss on his lips, always with his small arms around my neck hugging me tight.

With the boys in bed, I'd go to the living room and catch up on the news from the day on my computer. After about an hour, I'd gently open the door into Andy's room and see if everything was in order. Both boys would be asleep, both breathing slowly and with very faint snores. When I knew they were out for the night, I'd get in front of the computer again, but this time loaded my favorite gay website to check for new movie clips to let out some of the pent up steam.

***

The night that I'm about to tell you about started out like that. I had my orgasm in front of the computer and had done my nightly business in the bathroom. I had checked in on the boys ever so quietly as per usual, gotten into bed and also fallen asleep. That was the normal part of my night.

When I was awakened, it wasn't from the annoying beeping of my alarm clock, but by a crying Andy trying to tear my arm from its socket.

It was an autumn night, we had had a couple of days with really nice sunny and warm weather. Indian summer at its best in Denmark. But it had also built up one hell of a shower of heavy rain, more likely a cloudburst. I had read the forecast and seen the warnings but thought nothing of it. I didn't have a basement and I knew the roof and drainage system were fully capable of handling the water. I think the boys would have slept through the night if it had only been the water pummeling down.

But as it often is, at least here, massive lightning and really loud thunderclaps accompanied the rain. It sounded like it was directly above my house. Now, I've always quite enjoyed lightning storms and the rolling thunder, but Andy and John? They were absolutely terrified. I knew I'd probably never get any sleep myself, but I couldn't very well tell the boys to just go back to their own beds. It would surely have messed them up for life.

Instead, I scooted into the middle of my queen sized bed and patted the mattress and almost immediately I had a quivering, crying boy on either side of me pushing themselves tightly into my body. I put my arms around them and held them tight, whispered it was only thunder. It couldn't hurt them when they were inside the house. That they were safe right here with me. The thunderstorm took ages to finally move and find some other small boys to terrorize.

The boys were fast asleep when the storm let us be. I wasn't sleeping. I had been trying to fall asleep, but I sleep facing down. Yeah, laugh all you want, but that's what I've been doing since I was a very little boy. So falling asleep lying on my back was really hard. And I was sweating like a pig in heat, the two human heaters on either side of me made sure of that, even if we only had a blanket on top of us. I'm not used to sharing a bed with someone else either.

And two small boys, sheesh. They don't sleep quietly but thrash around like they are working out in their sleep.

If there's ever going to be another time where I'll share my bed with these boys again, I swear I'll wrap them up like mummies first. Maybe then they'll be able to lie still.

I don't know how, but I must have at least cat-napped for a few hours. When I woke the next time I was lying on my stomach and that was about the only normal thing about that morning.

I could both feel movement and hear quiet giggles coming from right next to me. I knew my bed didn't come with a built-in massage/vibrator-gizmo. Even if it had, it wouldn't be giggling, certainly not the exact same way Andy giggled. That's when I remembered what had happened in the night. Yeah, I'm not a morning person, my brain needs a little time to warm up and get into gear. Much like a diesel engine.

By the time I knew it was Andy giggling and moving about on the bed, I turned my head to look at what could possibly be so funny this early in the morning.

Had I been more awake, I would've probably had a bigger shock than I did when I saw what took place right there on my bed. Andy was on his back with his head on my pillow looking down his body while giggling. Now this wasn't so shocking really. His onesie jammies was unzipped and bunched up around his ankles. Where his pee-laden diaper was too. His knees were spread out as far as they could and John sat on his knees bent over like in prayer with his face in my son's lap.

On further inspection, he was busily sucking on my son's dick. This was why Andy was giggling. I couldn't believe my eyes.

I surely must still be sleeping. It's only a dream.

I closed my eyes and held them tightly shut for a few moments. The giggling continued, however, as did the slight movements. I tried to think of a way to stop what the boys were doing and wouldn't upset them too much. But the boy lover in me strongly objected.

Why not let the boys have their fun? They both clearly enjoy it.

But they are much too young!

You did something like that when you were their age.

Not full-out oral sex.

It wasn't too far from it. Admit it, if Casey had sucked on your dick, you wouldn't have told him to stop!

My damned dick had turned into a real hard erection, like it wanted a say in the matter as well. It was painful to lie on it, so either way, I'd have to move over onto my side soon.

As if I don't have enough issues to deal with right now.

I took another peek at the sight next to me. Andy looked right at me. Smiling happily.

"Hello daddy," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Morning Andy, John," I said in a slightly hoarse voice. Like I had been smoking too many cigarettes the night before.

"Hi Teddy," John chirped quickly and resumed his sucking. Like it was the most natural thing to be doing in the morning.

"Having fun?" I asked Andy.

"Yes, John is tickling my penis with his tongue!"

Oh, well maybe I won't need to wipe Andy down this morning.

I did do so later though. I didn't want him to run around smelling from stale pee and maybe get a rash from it. John seemed unfazed about the taste. I knew it had to be quite strong, but of course, it would only really be in the beginning, after sucking for a little while he would have gotten used to the taste.

Damn, what am I thinking?

I couldn't, shouldn't let the boys keep doing what they were. I turned onto my side, unfortunately facing the boys.

"Daddy has a big penis!" Andy said and John looked up from what he was doing and checked it out.

"My dad's bigger," he said.

Nevertheless, John reached out for my dick anyway. I saw his hand approach it, felt his fingers wrap around the head. Yes, I had gone back to sleeping naked after my first year at the boarding school.

"Do you do this with your dad, John?" I just had to ask.

"Nuh-uh. He doesn't like it,"

"Suck some more," Andy asked of John, or commanded him to. I wasn't sure how to interpret his words.

"In a second," John said annoyed. He had apparently found another, better toy.

I let him explore my dick for a little while, he was fascinated by my loose foreskin, pulled back on it and let go so it would slide back over the head. He did it a few times before I finally willed my body into action. I got off the bed and gently moved out of John's reach. As I left my bedroom I looked over my shoulder to see John resume sucking on my son's dick.

I went into the bathroom and got under the shower. I adjusted the water temperature to the coldest setting I could, but it wasn't nearly cold enough to get my erection to go away.

Chapter 18
Andy tells a secret

When I had finished my shower and got my dick under control, I went back to my bedroom to get dressed for the day. The boys had finished their game, at least they had stopped having sex on my bed. My bedroom was deserted and I could concentrate on getting dressed. I went into the kitchen and got the electric kettle started boiling water for tea. Something both Andy and I enjoyed in the mornings, with plenty of sugar and milk.

I found the boys on the floor playing with cars in Andy's room. Both of them in their jammies, though Andy's was now zipped back up. I could tell he had even pulled his diaper back up. That must have been really uncomfortable for him.

"Tiger, stop playing for a bit, we need to get you sorted out, then you can play afterwards."

I had him out of his jammies and up on the counter next to the sink before I removed his diaper. By using a damp washcloth I wiped his diaper area down.

I couldn't help but have a closer look at his penis. The small morsel looked fairly normal so John clearly hadn't scraped it with his sharp teeth. I sent the naked Andy into his room so he could put on the clothes I had set out for him the night before and went into the kitchen to set the table for breakfast. It was just cereal, milk and juice really, not to forget the tea.

Halfway through my bowl of cereal, I thought it strange the boys hadn't joined me.

When I had finished it, I went into Andy's room to see what they were up to. I hadn't heard a sound from them, and if two boys are that quiet, they are most likely doing something they shouldn't. When I opened the door, I saw John sitting on the bed, naked and my son on the floor in front of him. His head flew back from John's midsection as I walked into the room. He looked quite a bit scared.

"Now boys, it's time to get dressed. Breakfast is ready," I told them.

"'Kay daddy," Andy said in a small voice.

John said nothing, just quickly began to put on the clothes he had worn the day before. I left them and went back to the table before my tea got too cold to drink. Andy and John came into the kitchen looking quite subdued and joined me at the table.

"So boys," I started in my calmest and most gentle voice I could muster, "Whose idea was it to do what you did in my bed this morning?"

Both boys looked down. Saying nothing.

"I'm not angry with either of you," I continued, "I only want to know."

"It was John," Andy said, obviously still more interested in looking at his lap than me.

"You promised!" John looked terrified.

"Was it meant to be a secret?" I asked John.

"Yes! Please don't tell on me," he begged.

His request took me straight back to me in my brother's room when I was what, 12 or 13? Something like that. But I wasn't my brother. I didn't want anything in return for my silence.

"What is there to tell?" I asked John.

"That we were doing naughty stuff."

"I didn't see anyone do anything naughty. Did you?"

"My dad says it's naughty."

"Come here."

John slowly slid off his chair and walked slowly towards me. When he was close enough I picked him up and sat him sideways on my lap. I looked down at him.

"Now listen to me, John. A lot of people think what you and Andy did is very naughty. But I'm not one of them," I had to quickly say the last part, as John widened his eyes at what I told him.

"All I saw was two small boys having fun exploring their bodies."

Andy nodded his head demonstratively up and down.

"See? Andy had fun. Did you?"

"Uhm… Yes?"

"So, here's the rule. If both of you have fun, and I mean both you and Andy have fun," I pointed my finger at each of the boys, "then it isn't wrong or naughty. But, if Andy or you say stop, then you stop whatever you're doing right away. Got it?"

"Yes daddy," Andy said.

"But is it okay?" John asked me.

"In my house it is. My house, my rules. If you are at Andy's mommy's house or at your house, then the rules are different. Understand?"

"So we can be naughty here but not at home?"

"That's right."

John hugged me as best as he could while sitting in that position. What he did was put his arms around my neck and just squeezed tight.

"Woah there, Buddy, you're choking me to death."

John loosened his grip a little and said something I'd never expected to hear from a six years old boy, well, maybe apart from Andy.

"I love you!"

I made sure to explain the boys, using words they could understand, that the rules only applied to when they wanted to have sex. Well, I didn't use that word, but I didn't want them to think that they could just do anything they wanted to as long as both of them had fun. And if they had any questions they could always ask me without fear of me getting mad or poking fun at them.

"So I can do whatever I want to John if he lets me?"

"No, tiger. You can't do anything that will hurt him. And John, the same goes for you. You can't do anything that will hurt Andy either. If you want to do something and aren't sure if you're allowed to, just ask me and I will let you know if you can or cannot do it, okay?"

Both boys agreed to my terms. Had I known the can of worms I just opened, I would've reconsidered what I'd just done.

They ate their breakfast in record time while smiling to each other. If they had been any older, I'd say they looked like two lovers getting ready for their first real date.

They helped me clear the table by putting their bowls, glasses and tea mugs into the dishwasher. Then they ran into Andy's room shutting the door loudly behind them.

***

I wondered what they were up to, but had to asnwer a phone call from work. A server was unresponsive and I had to deal with it straight away. As I got deeper into figuring out where the problem with the server was, the door into Andy's room opened and my son ran to me. Naked like the day he was born.

"Daddy, Daddy!" He said loudly while running and as he got closer, "Can I have some chocolate sauce?"

"What do you want it for?"

"To put on John's penis," he said like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Okay, but don't use too much. Just a tiny little drop, you hear?" I knew far too well that if I only told Andy not to use too much, he'd just empty the damned bottle onto John's lap.

As to letting them do it, why not? They wouldn't be the first boys to put stuff on a dick to make it tastier, I had even done it myself once. They probably wouldn't be the last either.

I think I said something earlier about never having done anything with Walter, my dog? He's long dead now, but I did try to have him lick my dick. Only ever once, but I used something, I think it was strawberry jam, to make him want to lick it. He happily licked it off. It was just too tickly for me to let him do it for too long as his tongue felt sort of like sandpaper to my dick head.

Andy ran back to his room clutching the bottle of chocolate sauce in his hands, and again nearly slammed the door behind him. I would have loved to be inside his room when he poured the stuff onto John's dicky, as the bottle had come straight out of the fridge. They made no noise so I got back to work. For all I really know, they could have just been eating the chocolate sauce straight out of the bottle.

About twenty minutes later they both emerged from his bedroom. Fully dressed. Andy handed me the bottle of chocolate sauce, now substantially lighter than before, but still had some in it. Both boys had a bit of sauce in the corners of their mouth and I had them go wash their faces. I wondered if there were traces of chocolate on their private parts too. Short of having them strip I couldn't tell and I wasn't really interested anyway.

They wanted to go play in the backyard which was no problem to me. I knew Andy wouldn't leave it without asking my permission first. I put the chocolate sauce back in the fridge. After I had wiped down the bottle.

The server problem? It was the network port in the switch that had died. Fortunately I didn't have to drive to work to move the network cable. The on-call guy knew how to do that. I swapped out the port that following Monday, thank God for module-based hardware. And I got 2 days of overtime from sitting 3 hours in front of the computer in my living room.

As it turned out the boys had indeed been using the chocolate sauce on their private bits. I found dried-up traces of it on Andy when I gave him a bath that night. It wasn't just on his penis, also on his little balls and even some in-between his cheeks. I chose not to ask him about it. If he had wanted me to know, he would've told me. I did wonder if John had looked the same and whether his parents had noticed it when giving him a bath that night. If so, what they thought about it. They never said anything to me regarding the state of their little boy's private bits.

Cheryl came looking for her son just before lunch time, the boys were by then having fun in the backyard on the swings I had erected there. Yes, the two boys did plenty of other things than explore their sexuality with each other. Much like I had done with Casey when I was their age and a little older. They had their differences and little boy arguments of course. Even if one or the other sometimes yelled that they'd never ever want to play again, it was usually settled no more than a couple of days later.

***

One of the times the boys got into a dispute, I really thought it would be the end of an otherwise perfect friendship. John had slept over at our house and I had just fed the boys their breakfast. That time I had been lax and allowed them to eat it in front of the TV. Normally I was strict about us all sitting at the table eating like a family, or as close to what a family would anyway. But there was a children's show on TV, which both Andy and John loved to the point of where they'd absolutely die, if they missed one single episode. At least that is what they told me.

Normally we'd be up and about in plenty of time for having breakfast before the show started, but for an unknown reason Andy woke me up half an hour later than he usually would. It left me just enough time to get him sorted out, you know, getting him out of the wet diaper and wiped down. But not enough time to cook up some eggs and get them into the boys before the show started. So they had them in front of the TV.

Since we weren't going to eat as a family anyway, I had my morning smoke and then went to take a bath. I knew the boys could fend for themselves for the one hour I wanted as my personal time. Or so I thought. I'd been in the tub for about 40 minutes when seemingly all hell broke loose in the living room.

"Stop… STOP!" I heard Andy's voice.

Before I could get out of the tub, I heard more shouting from the living room.

"I'M NOT A BABY!" Again it was Andy's voice. He sounded really angry.

As I wrapped a towel around me, I could hear more shouting.

"I NEVER WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU AGAIN!" Andy screamed from the top of his lungs.

As I opened the bathroom door, I saw the front door closing and Andy's door slammed shut.

What the hell?

I knocked on Andy's door. I didn't get a response. I knocked again, this time more forcefully.

"Go away daddy," Andy said in a voice so low I could hardly hear him through the door.

I didn't know what had taken place in the living room, but I sure as hell didn't want to leave my son alone in his room. So, I broke one of the rules we had in my house, which was never to enter someone's bedroom without getting permission first. Heck, Andy broke the rule every morning anyway. So I opened his door.

"Andy, I'm coming in whether or not you want me to," I said softly as I walked into his room.

I could hear him quietly cry somewhere in the room. He wasn't in his bed nor in his closet. Then there was only one place left where he could be. He was underneath his bed. It was almost exactly the same as had happened that time with Michael. I got on my knees and looked in under the bed. He was curled up, facing the wall. I really did not want to get down there with him this time, however. My back ached like you wouldn't believe it, which was why I had a rare morning bath.

No, this time he would just have to come out to me, so I gently pulled him out with a grip around his upper arm. I did it gently, but quickly. I needed my boy safely in my arms. As I pulled him out, his crying intensified.

"I don't want you to see me," he sobbed.

I sat on the floor, back resting against his bed as I put my son in my lap. I could clearly see the dark patch on the front of his sweatpants. I only wore a towel around me so I couldn't care less. Hell, I would've put him on my lap even if he had shat himself and I was wearing the dress uniform pants from the Guard. The ones I always had hanging wrapped in plastic in my closet, pressed and brushed clean of anything that might have stuck to them.

I let the boy cry as I hugged him tight. I could piece together what had happened without him telling me. The boys must've had been in a tickle fight that got out of hand. Andy clearly was no match to the bigger John. I'd have to let John understand never to do this again. But first I had to get Andy to want to play with him again. When he had finished crying, I bathed him while his sweatpants were in the washing machine.

It took me the better part of the day reminding him of all the fun he had had with John.

"But daddy, he made me pee my pants," Andy objected. Many times. Like it was the worst thing anyone could possibly do to you.

When I finally got him to stop using that as a reason for not wanting to ever play with John again, he just used another, much more insulting thing John had done to him.

"John said I needed my diaper," he said. He made slight variations of this statement, even as I got him ready for bed.

So I told him a story. I had to make it up as I went, but I was used to do that anyway. My story was about two boys, who got into a fierce tickling fight. So both accidently wet themselves. Several times they wet themselves, ended up with soaked clothes with pee dripping all over. I had to make the story fun and ridiculous to keep Andy interested. Then I had one of the boys say: "I really wish we had on a diaper. Then we could continue tickling without having to worry about pee getting all over."

Andy agreed that it would have been a good idea if they had been in diapers. He could see the logic of my story. I tucked him in and gave him his goodnight kiss on his lips like I always did.

"I wonder if that might have been why John said that to you?" I said softly as I left his room.

The next morning I woke up by Andy trying to pull me from my bed onto the floor.

"Daddy, do you think that was why John said I needed a diaper?" He asked when he saw I was awake.

I shook my head a little, trying to work out what he was on about. Then I remembered what I had said just before shutting Andy's door the previous night.

"Yes, I think that's exactly the reason he said it."

Okay, there may have been a whole flurry of other reasons, but if I could make Andy believe it hadn't been said to humiliate him, then there was a much bigger chance of him wanting to play with John again.

When I had Andy on the changing pad minutes after, he was still trying to work things out using his child logic.

"But, daddy, what if he didn't mean it like that?" he asked as he lay on his back holding onto his thighs, allowing me to wipe over his bum and behind his little ball sack with a damp washcloth.

"Like what, Tiger?"

"Like, if I had on a diaper we could have played for longer."

"I can't say exactly what he meant. I just don't think he said it to hurt your feelings, big boy."

At the time he was big. Well, bigger, at least. I had reached his dicky and as I wiped it down, it had firmed up. I was probably a bad parent. But he seemed to enjoy what I did, he didn't complain or try to protect himself from me.

"Daddy," my son said in a little voice, "I do wanna play with John. But he called me a baby!"

"Did he now?"

"Uhm, no, not exactly. But he meant it."

"All clean, Tiger," I picked him up and tickled him a little while I had him suspended in the air before I sat him on the floor, "Why don't we ask John what he meant?

"I yelled I never wanted to play with him again," Andy said sadly, "I made him cry and go home. He'll never wanna talk to me."

"Leave it to daddy, I'll find a way."

After Andy had eaten his breakfast I sent him out in the backyard to play and called John's house. His mother, Cheryl, answered the phone. I apologized for John returning home alone the previous day and asked if he was okay. She told me John had been upset but had told her about what happened. He hadn't wanted to eat anything and kept to himself in his bedroom. I told her how Andy feared John would never want to play again.

Cheryl said that was exactly what John feared too. I invited her to come to my house after lunch and to bring John with her. Even if it meant dragging him here. She accepted my invitation quickly.

I went out to the backyard and saw Andy sitting on one of the swings. He wasn't really swinging, just sat there, with the tip of his shoes digging into the ground below him. He moved the swing back and forth, just a few inches each way.

"Hey Tiger," his head raised, his eyes finding mine, when he heard my voice, "C'mere, Andy."

He got off the swing and walked to me. Not his usual running/skipping, no, just a normal slow walk.

"John will come after lunch."

"Really?" he asked me.

"Yeah."

John and his mother came to my house right on time. The boys were uneasy with each other, not at all the best of friends, Cheryl and I were used to seeing. They got into a small squabble about the diaper/baby thing, ending in John jumping off his chair and moving to stand in front of Andy with his legs spread.

"Okay, I'll pee my pants right here, right now, if it makes you feel better," John said.

"Oh no, you won't!" Cheryl strongly objected to her son's idea.

It made my mind kick into action. If John was so willing to piss himself just to get Andy back as a friend, I thought maybe he'd do something else. Hopefully Cheryl would approve of it too. I stuck my neck out, baring my throat to a mother of a son. The most dangerous of all species in the known world.

"How about this, Cheryl? John, you'll wear one of Andy's night diapers so Andy can see for himself that big boys sometimes wear diapers?"

"I really don't know," Cheryl started, but was interrupted by Andy.

"You gotta wear it all day. And only a diaper. Nothing else!" he listed his demands, "You gotta go out to the front yard so everybody will see you!"

John turned pale as he heard all of what he had to do, especially when Andy told him his final demand.

"You gotta go potty in it too!" he said with an unmasked delight in his voice.

"No, Andy. That's not fair to John," I quickly said before anyone had a chance to say anything, "you only wear your diaper to bed, no strangers ever see you in a diaper, and you certainly would never poop in it.

"So you can't make John do all of that. He'll wear a diaper. For one day. Indoors and maybe in the backyard, if you wish, but no pooping in the diaper. Deal?"

"Okay, daddy," Andy yielded to my proposal, reluctantly.

I think my counteroffer had Cheryl warm up to the idea of her son being forced into a diaper. She agreed to letting it happen, but only if John truly wanted to.

"I will do anything," John cried out, "I just want us to be friends again."

I made a call to my boss asking for a day off from work, as I had some issues at home to deal with. It was as close as I could get to the true reason for spending a Monday at home. Instead of having John and Andy go to their nursery school, they'd stay at my house. I'm not sure how Cheryl explained it to Lyle, John's father. Maybe she never mentioned it. But John did show up, ringing my doorbell at 7:30 AM the next morning.

Andy let him in and dragged him into the bathroom while he yelled to me that John had arrived. I was outside, yes, you guessed it, having a smoke. When I got into the bathroom, both Andy and John were there, John still wearing all of his clothes including his shoes. I shooed Andy out of the bathroom, while he tried to argue that he had to see me put the diaper on John.

"John has seen me get my diaper on lots of times!" he whined.

In the end I just pushed him out the bathroom door and locked it behind him. I turned to John and got down in a crouch in front of him. I put my hands on his small shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"Buddy, are you sure you want to do this?" I asked him.

"He gotta! He promised!" Andy shouted from behind the closed door.

"Andy, go to your room. Now!" I said loud enough for him to hear I meant business.

"But daaaad!"

I waited until I heard Andy had stomped his way into his room and shut the door. Then I asked John again.

He nodded in consent as he kept eye contact.

"I'll do it. Anything for Andy."

Oh, don't you dare say that to Andy. He'll make you do things you never would've thought of.

I nodded back to the boy standing there in front of me.

"Come, up you go," I lifted him onto the changing pad.

As he sat there, I slipped his shoes off. His little socks followed. I pulled his jumper off, leaving the boy in just his pants and presumably underwear.

"Lie down buddy," I told John.

He lay flat on his back, his legs bent at the knees and lower legs dangling over the edge of the counter top. I undid his belt and unzipped his pants before undoing the button. He knew what was about to happen as he lifted his butt off the pad, making it easy for me to tug the pants and his little Power Rangers briefs off his pelvis. He parked his butt back on the pad so I could get both garments completely off his body. I tickled his naked tummy just a little to get some of the tension out of the room.

I got a diaper from the stack and unfolded it. As Andy had said earlier, John had seen him getting prepared for the night a lot. So John knew what to do, when the diaper was placed under his butt. It was a really tight fit, but I got it on him and readjusted the snaps to make the diaper sit a little snugger around his waist. I even made sure the leak barriers were in the right position by running my index fingers just inside of the diaper around the legs openings.

I guess it was just out of habit, after all, the diaper wasn't supposed to be used. It was only to be worn like underwear really.

With John now properly attired, I helped him down to the floor and let him join my son in his bedroom.

I folded his clothes, laying them on the counter. I told the boys to behave themselves and let them know I'd be in the garage. I had to figure out why one of the shock absorbers was so noisy when driving over speed bumps. About an hour later, the two boys appeared in the garage.

"Daddy, John needs a new diaper," Andy informed me.

I slid out from underneath the car. From my position laying on the floor, I could clearly see John indeed had wet his diaper. If the bulging of the diaper didn't reveal the fact, the color of his cheeks surely did. The poor kid was blushing fiercely.

"Oh John. Buddy, you really didn't have to pee in the diaper."

"Yes, he does!" Andy stressed, "It's what he promised yesterday."

"Tiger, I said he didn't have to go potty in the diaper."

"Nuh-uh, you said he didn't have to poop in it. He didn't poop, he peed!"

Sighing, and silently cursing at myself for having been outsmarted by a five years old, I got to my feet and ripped the latex surgical gloves off my hands. Lyle had given me a box of those gloves for when I fiddled with my car. It was a great way to keep grease and old oil from messing up my hands, sometimes for days after having done some minor repairs. I followed the boys to the house and into the bathroom.

When I told Andy to get lost, he just shook his head at me. And then John told me he could stay and watch. It was getting a bit too much for me when Andy brought out the foot stool he'd stand on to wash his hands. He sat it right next to the counter and got up on it.

"Are you going to change him or should I?" I sarcastically asked Andy.

"You do it, I just wanna see."

I fished out a new diaper and unfolded it. I wanted to limit the time John would lay naked to the bare minimum. Not only because I knew it had to be uncomfortable for him to have a warm diaper removed and feeling the cold air on his private bits. I also wanted to shield him a little from Andy's scrutinizing eyes. Oh, I know they were used to playing naked in the tub and sometimes even in the living room or in the backyard, but this was different.

I quickly released the snaps on the diaper, then picked up both of John's legs in one of my hands. I moved the drenched diaper from underneath him.

Sheesh, how much can the boy pee anyway?

And after a thorough, yet very quick wash with a damp washcloth of his diaper area, he was back in a new dry diaper. We went through 4 diapers that day when John had agreed to wear a diaper. What I didn't realize at the time, was Andy made John drink a lot of water, forcing him to pee himself several times throughout the day. It was only years later, when Andy told me about it I finally found out.

***

The next interesting event with the boys took place a couple of months later. It had been a cold, rainy and windy day, but the weather hadn't kept the boys indoors. With proper clothing kids can play outside all year long and John and Andy were no different from other little boys. After a couple of hours playing in the backyard they came into the kitchen looking very chilled. I heated milk for hot cocoa while they got out of their wet winter clothing.

John tried to help Andy get his boots off while I put some buns in the oven and placed small plates and big mugs on the table. It was a pretty fun sight, watching Andy sit on the floor and John pulling on one of his boots. The boot was stuck on the foot, so John was really only pulling Andy across the hardwood floor in small steps. I knew well just how hard Andy's boots could be to remove. I could lift Andy clear of the floor by his booted foot making him squeal his head off hanging upside down.

"John, try to stand with Andy's foot in between your legs," I suggested, "No turn the other way."

He had been facing him. John turned around and looked up for more guidance.

"Lift his foot up, so you have it between your thighs. Yes, like that. Crouch down a little and hold onto the boot with all of your superpowers."

I looked at my son lying on his back on the floor.

"Now, Tiger, put your other foot up on John's bum. Yes, right on his bum cheek. Now push at his bum with your leg."

"John, wriggle his boot around a little… Wasn't that easy?"

"Uh-huh," John said and discarded the freed boot by throwing it towards the door leading out to the yard.

"Now do the same with the other boot."

I knew John could take his boots off on his own, but he wanted Andy to help him all the same. I turned my attention from the boy buns to those I had in the oven. Well, they were more like rolls, I mean the ones in the oven. They were getting crispy and turning into a nice golden color.

"Go and take off your wet clothes in the hall, will you? Don't forget your boots! And wash your hands."

Sometimes being at home was just like being in the National Guard. Always issuing orders. I had worked my way up a little. I was the squad leader now, taken over from the previous, who had left the Guard. I was also a drill sergeant/instructor at one of the National Guard's schools. I spent some of my vacation days on it but mostly I used the overtime I'd put in at work to spend time with the Guard. I wanted to spend time with my son too. Sometimes it was terribly hard to balance the two.

The boys returned to the kitchen after a couple of minutes. Naked.

"What happened to your undies?" I asked them.

"They got wet too," Andy said matter-of-factly.

"I'll sort them out after we eat."

The boys had their early afternoon snack of a warm buttered roll and hot cocoa with whipped cream, then scampered off to Andy's bedroom. They closed the door behind them. More gently this time. I had to tell Andy a couple of times he didn't have to slam it to make me understand they didn't want to be disturbed. I cleared the table and went to sort out their clothing. The bibs and coats were quite wet on the outer surface, but their underwear wasn't really wet. If anything just slightly damp.

Both boys simply enjoyed running around naked. If I had let them, they'd probably play in the street or on the front lawn in the buff. I didn't allow Andy to play in the street unsupervised and even supervised, I wouldn't let him go out there naked. I could easily imagine what the neighbors would've thought. In the backyard it was different, it was surrounded by fairly high and really dense hedges to the neighbors and a high wooden privacy fence with a gate at the end of the yard. So they could do pretty much whatever they wanted to in the yard without anyone able to see.

That day, when the boys had eaten rolls naked at my dining table, winter had just arrived. It was the first week of December. Andy had already started stockpiling advertising magazines from any store selling toys, trying to make a wish list for Christmas. He could spend hours by himself and with John, trying to decide what to go for. What they'd be getting the most fun from playing with.

Right then though, I knew, even if I couldn't see it, they were playing with the toys they had been born with.

I rinsed the streaks of mud off the bibs and coats in the tub using the sprayer. There was no reason to put them in the washer as they'd only end up in the same state the next day, or maybe later the very same day. I had a look at the underwear the boys had been wearing. Well, not just a look, I had a sniff too. They didn't have much of a smell, if anything mostly from the fabric softener from when they had been washed. But there was a tiny whiff of something else.

It was only really the briefest of hints, but it was there. Anyone who'd appreciate the smell of little boy would have been able to pick it up. You didn't need to be a bloodhound to do it. In the front there was the smell of pee, where overlooked or forgotten, maybe purposely ignored drops of pee had exited the owner's small penis. Only to be absorbed by the cotton fabric of which their underwear was made. There hadn't been enough pee to leave a noticeable stain, just the ever so slight smell.

And on the seat of the underwear, there was also a faint fragrance, the sweet smell of a boy's butt hole. I'd be able to tell that smell from hundreds of others.

I finally shook the thoughts out of my mind, I really had to go clean the kitchen and hall floors before the traces of mud would spread even more. With the bibs and coats in the dryer and underwear on the counter I went to clean the floors. Afterwards, standing outside trying to suck the nicotine from a cigarette in double time, cursing silently at the bad weather, a naked John opened the door just enough to poke his head out.

"Teddy, why does it tickle so much when Andy sucks on my dicky?"

Chapter 19
Teaching Andy and John

"Go back to Andy's room, I'll be there in a minute,"

"Okay."

He closed the door, I could see through the glass in it how he ran through the kitchen and out of sight as he turned right into the hall. I gave it some thought as to how I was going to explain the wonder of pleasure. If I should go further and tell the boys of the joy of orgasms.

I didn't want it to turn into a clinical lecture. The boys wouldn't find that interesting and really didn't need to know about nerve endings and erogenous zones.

Maybe I'll explain about the zones. Just a bit of what they are and that they are all over the body. They can have fun while trying to locate them.

I stumped out the cigarette and put the butt in the ashtray I kept out there. The boys sat waiting on the lower bunk bed as I entered Andy's room.

"So, what is it you want to know?" I asked John.

"Why does it tickle so much?" He asked, "When Andy sucks on it?" He pointed at his dicky.

"Is it a ticklish tickle or a nice tickle?"

"Good. Also ticklish. Mostly it just tickles."

"Well boys, your penis likes when it is touched, right?" When both boys nodded, I continued, "you can make it feel good yourself or someone else can make it feel good for you."

"It's funnier when John does it," Andy pointed out.

"It's almost always better when someone else do it for you," I agreed, "have you done it so long that it makes you feel like you have to pee real bad?"

"Andy just did that to mine!"

"Was that the first time?"

"Uh-huh," John nodded.

"Would you like me to teach you how to make it feel like that every time you do it?"

"Yeah!" Both boys exclaimed.

"Okay. You can make the tickles appear in different ways," the boys looked at me curiously, when I said this. "You can use your fingers or you can use your mouth and tongue."

"Watch this, Andy," I told him as I gently took hold of John's dicky with my thumb and forefinger.

Andy leaned right over so he got a close up look of how I held it. John sat with his legs spread and breathed heavily as I carefully massaged his little dicky with my two fingers, almost rolling it between them. It took a little time but it started to fill with blood and soon was as erect as it could be.

"Why does it do that?" John asked.

"Well, when you get a little older, you can stick it into something, but that's not so important now. For now, just think of it making it easier for you to get the tickles," I explained while still moving my fingers about on the little warm stick of wood between his legs.

"Now, John doesn't have the skin over his head, so you have to be careful, Tiger," I told my son, "See how I'm holding his dicky just under the head?"

"Yes."

"Now, when you want John to have the real good tickles, you just do this," I moved my hand a little towards myself, pulling a bit of the skin from the shaft of his dick half ways up over his dick head.

Fortunately his circumcision hadn't been one of those real tight ones. The skin on his shaft was fairly loose even when his dick was erect. Had the skin been much tighter, I would've had to use some form of lubricant. I pushed my hand back towards the base of John's dicky and slid the skin back off the little head.

"You have to be real careful not to pull at it too hard or hold it too tight, okay?" I told my son, who was still observing, "How does it feel John?"

"It sorta tickles but not bad," he told me, also keeping watch over my manipulation of his private part.

"Good, I'm going to see if I can make you get the good tickles, is that okay?"

"Okay."

"It may take me a few minutes, but let's find out," I started masturbating his dicky using slow and delicate strokes.

John leaned back on the bed, he had propped up his upper body using his lower arms and elbows as support. His legs were splayed open and he kept his head up, looking at my fingers stroking his dicky. I didn't say anything, just let the boys take in the experience and learn by watching. I kept a close watch on John's reactions, gauged them much like I would a tachometer in a car.

When his little tummy and chest started moving ever so slightly faster in and out, I increased the tempo on his dicky. Just by a fraction. I could tell he was clearly enjoying himself, even if he was concentrating so much more than I thought a six years old boy was able to. If his breathing slowed, I slowed down my strokes a bit as well so I could get his build-up towards orgasm back on track. I wanted this, his first time, to be a nothing short of perfect experience to him.

Of course he couldn't keep perfectly still, it was after all not a doll with a penis I was playing with. His thigh muscles would tense briefly, bringing his knees up from the mattress then slowly relax back to it. He'd curl the small toes on his feet and relax them randomly, and showed all the signs of a boy not fully understanding what his body was feeling.

When he finally had his kiddy cum, completely dry of course, he straightened his legs and feet. His entire body tensed up. He kept it that way for more than just a few seconds before finally relaxing.

"That was so cool!" he finally said, a bit out of breath.

As if I'd only shown him how to shoot hoops or something. At first I was a little puzzled, but the memories of Casey and I doing the same thing, told me that for John, it was simply yet another game. It wasn't an expression of love or something done out of horniness. It had been thrilling, yes, but rolling down a long hill was thrilling too. At least until you'd bump into a rock halfway down.

"Now me," Andy said, understanding I had finished with John.

Oh, I would've loved to give my only son the same feelings, but John really wanted to try it. Who was I to refuse him doing that to his best friend? At least I would be there to witness my son's first orgasm. That's more than most parents can say, isn't it?

I had Andy lie on his bed with his head and upper body propped up on a couple of pillows. Then John kneeled beside him so he could easily reach the dink of my son. It was about the same length as John's, probably 6 – 7 cm [~2.4 – 2.75 inches] or so. He had a foreskin that covered the head completely even when erect. When his dink was flaccid, the foreskin formed a small floppy tip. I showed John where and how to hold Andy's dick and how to move the skin up and down over the head.

Oh, how Andy squirmed as we handled his dink. He almost couldn't keep his legs apart, tried in vain to shield his little package from our exploring fingers. Eventually he was able to relax some when he found out the signals coming from his little dink weren't cries for help from being tickled. He still thought it was fun. Just how something so sweet like that should be. When his dink stood firm and straight, I had John increase his stroking speed. He started out at a massive speed. Much too fast.

"Slow it down a little, Buddy."

"It feels yummy," Andy quickly said.

"I know Tiger, but it'll feel even better if John does it a little more slowly in the beginning."

I gently moved John's fingers and showed him with about ten strokes.

"I want to do it," he objected to my interruption.

"Okay, put your fingers on it, then I'll show you how to do it properly."

After he had reclaimed possession of my son's dink he again started out much too eagerly. I clamped my own fingers on top of his and slowed his movements considerably.

"Just like this," I explained, "You start slooowly like this, then after a little while you can do it faster and faster."

I held my grip on his fingers and kept working them up and down at the slower pace.

"How you doing Tiger?" I asked my son.

"It tickles! But yummy tickles."

I guess that's a good description of the feelings coming from having your dick stroked by your best friend and your dad.

"Okay, let's try a little faster, shall we?"

"Ooh," Andy half moaned, half gasped.

John giggled at the sounds Andy made.

"'s good," Andy explained to him.

I smiled at my son and increased the stroking pace a little bit more.

"Keep doing it like this, John."

He nodded his head and I moved my fingers from his, let him take control. I sat up and just enjoyed the sight of two naked boys having fun playing a game that didn't require any toys at all. It's probably the cheapest game to play, only thing needed is a willing boy sporting a stiffy. I had a look at John's groin, his dicky wasn't hard but it wasn't completely soft either. I contemplated reaching out for it, but stopped myself. I didn't want him to shift his attention from what he was doing.

Andy was squirming on his bed in tiny jerks and I told John to go just a little bit faster. I knew it probably wouldn't last much longer. Part of me wanted so badly to join the boys, to get naked and show them what a grownup orgasm looks like. The other part of me just enjoyed seeing the emotions flowing between the two boys. John patiently stroking the dink of my little son. Smiling and at times giggling as he did. My son lost in the feelings being transmitted from his little groin.

In the end he closed his eyes real tight, firmed up his little bicep muscles along with the rest of his upper body. I bet his toes were curling up too. I didn't check though. He didn't make much of a sound, but actually held his breath. When he finally let it out it was in a long sigh.

"I think you can stop now, John," I said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Andy got the tickles just like you did. And you made it happen!"

"Cool!"

"Yeah it's nice isn't it?"

"Yep."

With that, I quietly left the room. I knew the boys would come get me if they needed me again. But I hoped it wouldn't be in the first ten minutes as I desperately had to go choke my hard-on before it fell off.

When I came back out of the bathroom I just had a quick look in Andy's room and all I saw were two small boys playing with Legos. You wouldn't have been able to tell that they, no more than fifteen minutes prior to that, had been playing an entirely different game. Sure, they were still naked. Their underwear had been in the bathroom with me. No, I'm not telling you what I used it for. Use your imagination.

"Boys, put on a pair of undies, okay? Andy, give John one of your new ones. He should be able to wedge his bum into those."

I actually don't mind boys playing games while they're naked, I'm sure you already know, but I did hate disinfecting Andy's Legos. And with the easy access to bum holes that might be itchy, there'd be no telling where the small fingers handling the Lego bricks had just been. The boys were quick to comply and John managed to get into a pair of Andy's underwear. I'm afraid the ones he had been wearing outside, those I had left on the counter top in the bathroom, had gotten a bit more wet when I had dealt with my hard-on.

Later that evening after dinner, I gave the boys their bath. I had just finished washing the both of them and left them to their own fun in the tub hoping to get a few puffs from a cigarette. I had closed the door but I still heard a shriek from the bathroom. I dropped the cigarette and hurried into the bathroom. John was sitting in the tub and Andy stood facing him. I thought someone had gotten hurt, instead both boys were having a great time.

And then I saw why, amidst a bit of giggling, little spurts of pee from Andy's dink landed on John's body. He couldn't keep the flow going because of his giggles. Fortunately John seemed to be having a lot of fun too.

I just shook my head at the boyish play and left to finish my cigarette. I made sure to really hose both boys down before I got them out of the tub. No, not like that, I used the sprayer!

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