Zackary Dillon

The Boys of Cockney Hills

A Chronicles of New Atlantis Story

Chapter One

I pay attention to those kinds of things, good for me. I've been watching the boys in my neighborhood for awhile now. There are a few I think might be interested. There are these two twelve year old boys that hang out together all the time, Chris and Jordan. Chris is a beauty, short cut blonde hair that's parted to the side, with just a few wisps hanging down over his forehead, he has these beautiful blue eyes that seem to sparkle and say, 'please fuck me'. That's not the best part though, he's got those lips, the ruby red puffy lips that all boy-lovers want, the ones that you know will just look so sexy wrapped around you dick. Chris isn't fat either, not like a lot of the kids these days, nope, he's just got that perfect little twelve year old body, not a lot of muscle, just slim, smooth, and soft. He's a real looker alright, but the kids also outgoing and funny or at least tries to be. He's really the boy I'd like to hook up with, if I get the chance.

Jordan is the exact opposite of Chris. He's hispanic for one, so he has this soft brown skin and dark black hair that's kept spiked. He has these deep dark brown eyes and those soft cheekbones those latin boys have, the ones that set them apart from other boys. He's smaller than Chris, but not too small, just right. He's a little bit more fit than Chris and that's not bad either. He's always running around with his shirt off, so I know he's got a sexy little chest with these perfect little light brown nipples that you just want to take in your mouth and suck. Mmm… I need to stop myself there. Jordan's shy though, he doesn't talk a lot. The only friend he has in the neighborhood is Chris, which is why they're always running around together.

Anyways you might think, this guy is just some perv looking to score with some little boys, but that doesn't mean I don't want them to enjoy it too. I just know about little boy's, my uncle taught me everything about that sort of thing. When I was nine he took me on a camping trip and seduced me. Within a week he took my cherry and convinced me that I was his little 'bitch boy', that's what he called me anyways. He spanked me and tied me up, did lots of fucked up things that I liked and didn't know why. Anyways when I grew up I wanted to have a bitch boy of my own so bad, but up until last year it was illegal so I didn't dare. Now that's all changed and I'm working on finding the perfect little boy to turn into my own 'bitch boy'.

You see I learned a few things from my uncle, the first thing is that there are boys that just like to be bossed around, they're submissive and want you to discipline them. The second thing I found out was that those boys really don't know that they're submissive or that they want to be bossed around, it takes time to teach them that, but once they've learned their lesson they'll be back time and time again.

I can see Chris right now playing in the abandoned lot across from my house. He's hitting a sign with a stick, not the most creative thing to do, but who am I to judge? He's sweating, the little vixen, and I'd really like to call him over to my house and invite him inside, but I know every parent in New California has warned their sons about pederasts, he'd figure it out and probably not go for it. So I just watch and stroke my cock, imagining the little guy naked and bent over the side of my bed, taking it up his tight ass. I can hear his clear little boy voice crying out as I stroke my six inches [15 cm] of circumcised man meat inside of him. Ahh… fantasies. I can't take it anymore and I cum, these thick spurts of juice that I wish were landing on the little guy's back, are actually landing on my window sill. I clean up my juices and watch him as he turns to leave.

God it sucks waiting. I head outside and decide to go for a walk. I feel better now that I've cum and I don't have that desire to fuck in my head. Most people will say, what a fucking perv, wanting to fuck little boys, but I've never seen myself like that. Yes I want to fuck little boys, but I think God made me want to fuck little boys, just like he made gay guys want to fuck men and straight guys want to fuck women. I didn't have a choice in the matter. Maybe my Uncle had something to do with it, maybe if he hadn't screwed me when I was a kid, I'd be running after women or men right now, but I'm not entirely sure that's the truth. If you listen to the New Atlantian Teachers, they'll tell you that there's no such thing as heterosexual or homosexual, there's just Eros and Agape, lust and love. You don't decide who you want to fuck or for that matter who you want to love, it just happens.

I'm not really looking for love, I know about love. My parents were in 'love' for twenty years before they finally figured out it wasn't love, but a financial arrangement. I'm looking for sex, plain and simple. After thirty-two years of having my sperm land on my keyboard, my penis is ready for the real thing.

Speak of the devil, what do I see in front of me, but little shirtless Jordan. I can see him sitting in the grass looking at the ducks swimming around in the pond. It's actually a pretty little scene, a momma duck is leading her flock of baby ducks in search of food. Most little twelve year old boys would have no interest in watching a bunch of baby ducks, but Jordan's not most little boys.

"Hey there," I say to the cute little guy.

"Hey Mr. Rogers," Jordan replies.

"Cute aren't they," I say pointing to the ducks.

"Yeah," Jordan says, "I wish I could take one home."

"I don't think they'd do to well without their mom," I told him.

"You're probably right," Jordan says looking up at me.

There's this awkward moment of silence, you know, when you really don't know what else to talk about, that kind of moment. I shift a bit from foot to foot, my hands in my pocket, and Jordan he looks at me like he's nervous, wondering why I stopped to talk to him.

"You're a good kid," I tell him, before I can tell my mouth to shut up, "most kids your age wouldn't care about a little duckling."

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," I say trying to smile so I don't look like a lecherous old man. "Well I got to go."

"Bye," Jordan says.

I nod to him and walk off. I want to hit myself in the head, but I know that would look crazy, so I just keep telling myself, 'you idiot, why did you say that?', why didn't you just say, 'ducks, cool, why don't you come over to my house and we can fuck sometime?'

Maybe I was being to hard on myself, but I really don't want to screw this up. I want the kid so bad and I'm starting to realize that the key to getting Chris is getting Jordan first. Even though Jordan is the shy one, Chris is the needy one and he always follows Jordan's lead. Most people think it's the opposite, but I've seen them, Jordan walks away, Chris follows, they don't even realize that's what's happening, but I do.

I sit in my living room and I keep playing the conversation over and over in my head, wondering if I ruined my chance. I can't take it anymore, it's driving me crazy. I decide to go out and mow my lawn. I open the garage door and there he is, Jordan, he's in the lot across the street, watching my house. I act like I don't notice him, or at least I try to. He's doing the same thing. I wonder if that's all it takes, just giving the kid a little attention. He's lonely, maybe he thinks I'll be his friend, but then again what twelve year old boy is looking for a thirty-two year old man to be his friend, no, something else is going on.

I start up my mower and start to mow my lawn. I take my shirt off after a few passes, it's hot and I'm not entirely out of shape, I want to make sure the kid knows I'm not fat or ugly underneath everything. He's still there, sitting on a rusted out barrel. I look at him and he looks back at me and waves, I wave back.

I push the mower to the end of the yard and on my way back I see him standing on the sidewalk now, watching me. I stop in front of him and say, "hi."

"Hi," he says back, his hands in his pockets. He's wearing these brown baggy jean shorts, they're adorable on him. He still doesn't have a shirt on and I try really hard not to look at his slim little tummy.

"What's up," I ask him, trying to sound cool and nonchalant.

"Nothing," he says, then he looks at the mower. "I can mow your lawn for you if you want."

"How much," I ask thinking that he wants to earn some money.

"You don't have to pay me," he says. I feel like shit all of sudden, the kid's so lonely he's willing to work just to make a friend.

"No," I say to him. "I'll pay you for it, how about twenty dollars?"

"That'd be cool," he says with this big cheeky smile.

"Alright," I say motioning for him to grab the mower, "get to it then."

He moves in front of me to take over and his arm brushes against mine, I feel this shock of tingles throughout my body, his skin is so soft. I walk over and sit on my porch, watching him mow my lawn. He's doing a crappy job, but I don't say anything, when he's done, I'll fix the bad patches.

It takes him awhile and he's trying really hard to do it right, but I'm guessing this is the first time he's ever mowed anyone's yard. When he finishes he turns off the mower and walks over to where I'm sitting. His body's glistening with sweat now. I try to think of puppies and grandma, anything to keep myself from getting a boner.

"Good job," I say to him, pulling out my wallet. I hand him a twenty and he grabs it from my hand. I can tell he doesn't get a lot of money.

"Thanks," he says, "do you want me to mow it again next week."

"Yeah," I say, "that would be great."

"Cool," he says smiling.

"Do you want a drink," I say, "you look hot."

"Okay," he says.

"Come on inside," I say, opening the door to my house. He pauses, not sure if he should go inside. He looks up and down the street to make sure no one is watching, then he steps inside my house. He walks into the living room and stands by the couch. I go into the kitchen and grab some cokes from the fridge, on the way back I grab a towel from the linen closet and hand it to him.

"Here," I say, "you can dry yourself off."

He grabs the towel and coke and says, "thanks."

I watch him as he rubs the towel over his body. I wish it was me drying him off, but I try not to let him know that. I sit down on the couch and motion for him to sit down in the chair across the way. He does and my heart skips a beat.

"Thanks for mowing the yard," I say, watching him as he takes a sip of soda. He's looking around my living room. I can tell he's impressed, he keeps staring at my plasma TV and my Atlantis 3600 video game system. "You like video games," I ask him.

"Yeah," he says, "I don't got one yet."

"Well you save your money up and you can buy yourself one," I say.

"Yeah," he says, staring at me now, starting to get nervous.

There's a moment where neither of us says a word, we're just looking at each other, wondering what the hell is going on, or at least that's what I'm wondering.

"You got anything else for me to do," he asks suddenly, looking at me. I can't be sure, but I think he looked at my crotch. "I don't know," I say, suddenly getting very nervous myself, wondering what he wants to do.

"I can do lots of things," he says.

"Cool," I say, "what did you want to do?"

"I don't know," he says, "what do you want me to do?"

Fuck, I'm going to scream if this keeps going like this. I wish he'd just say, 'hey you want me to suck your dick for another twenty?' I don't say anything, I just look at him, trying to get an idea of what he wants.

"Well what are you good at," I ask.

"Lots of stuff," he says. I can tell this isn't going to get me anywhere, he's not going to come out and ask, he doesn't want to get in trouble for saying the wrong thing.

"Well there's lots of stuff I can think of," I say, "but you might be too young to do some of it."

"I'm not too young," he says. "What kind of stuff do you want me to do?"

"Do you really want to know," I ask him, my voice sounds huskier than I'd have liked it to.

"Yeah," he says, fidgeting in his seat.

"Well I'd like to see what you look like without those shorts on," I finally say, waiting for him to run screaming out of the room. He waits, the lines been crossed and I'm not sure if he's okay with that now.

"How much will you give me," he asks finally, standing up in front of the chair.

"How much do you want," I ask.

He think for a minute, looks at me, I'm sure he's trying to figure out what a fair price would be, then he blurts out, "twenty dollars."

I look at him. If he wants twenty just to get naked, I know he's going to rob me if I try to get him to suck me off, I shake my head and say, "ten dollars."

"Ten," he asks, sounding disappointed.

"Yeah," I say to him, trying hard not to lick my lips. "Ten seems fair."

"Okay," he says hooking his fingers into his shorts, then pausing, "but you can only look for ten."

My prick surges with blood as I realize he's willing to do more. I nod my head and take a twenty out and lay it down in front of me on the coffee table.

I watch as he pulls his shorts down slowly, he's obviously a bit shy about exposing himself to me. I soak in the moment, waiting to see that beautiful little prick make it's appearance, when it does, I'm not disappointed.

He's uncircumcised and his penis is the same color as the rest of his body, that cute little light tan color, it's about as long as my middle finger, so about three inches [7½ cm] long, and it's stiff as a board. He seems embarrassed that he has a hard on and his hands move to cover it. I smile, looking at his hairless little pubis. His tummy forms this nice little rounded V that seems to move your eyes straight to his crotch.

"Come on," I say to him, shifting my dick in my pants, "I'm not paying ten dollars to see you cover your dick up."

He looks at me and I can tell he's wondering if he wants to do this anymore. I wait, not saying anything, letting him make up his mind and then, very slowly, he pulls his hand away and I can see it again, that slim little pricklet curving up towards his tummy, hard as a nail.

"It's beautiful," I say, without even thinking. He blushes and turns his head away, not wanting to look at me. "Come closer," I tell him.

He looks at me, deciding whether or not he wants to do that, then he finally takes a few awkward steps towards me, his shorts wrapped around his ankles, until he's just out of my reach. He's holding the base of his rod with his thumb and index finger, looking down at it, like he's trying to decide for himself if it's beautiful or not.

"You don't need to be ashamed," I say, "you've got a sexy little body."

"I'm not sexy," he says, not realizing just how beautiful he is. I want to touch him, to stroke that little rod and watch the kid cum, but I know he's not ready for that.

"Yes you are," I say, pursing my lips, then deciding to take it a bit further say, "show me the tip."

He pulls his foreskin back over the end and I see the tip, almost shiny, it's an angry purplish brown color. I know he masturbates because a second later he starts pulling the foreskin back and forth over the end, jerking himself off in front of me.

"That's cool," I say looking at him, I shift in my seat and lean forward trying to get a better look, he misreads my signals and steps closer, taking his hand away from his little cock looking at me expectantly. I reach out, barely able to touch him, and run my finger over the end, he shivers and tenses up. "Does that hurt," I ask him.

"No," he says, "I like it."

"Good," I say to him running my fingers down along his stiff little rod, then pulling the foreskin over the tip. Even hard the foreskin covers it completely, leaving a little skin for me to tug on and pull away from his body. He hisses, but stays still. I look at him, this hungry look in my eyes. I want to suck him, so I use his foreskin to pull him closer to me. He doesn't resist he takes a few more steps towards me and he's standing right in front of me.

I lean down, pull the foreskin back over the end and stick out my tongue, flicking it across his sensitive head. His hands grab hold of my hair, like he's grabbing the handlebars on a bicycle. He stands there letting me lavish attention to his cute little penis, breathing a bit heavier, relishing the sensations I'm giving him.

"Do you like that," I ask him, looking up to see the confusion on his face. He doesn't say anything, he just nods, never letting go of my hair. I return to licking the tiny head, listening to him make little cooing sounds as I run my tongue in circles, finally pressing against his piss slit.

"That's really nice," he says, a serious look on his face.

"I'm glad," I say, looking up at him, "but I think you'll like this better."

I lean forward and take his dick in my mouth. I can fit the whole thing inside without any difficulty. He gasps and lurches forward, gripping my hair even tighter, his eyes widen and he's got this surprised look on his face, like he's not sure he's supposed to feel what he's feeling.

I take my time, sucking his cock in and out my mouth, relishing the salty taste that comes from underneath his unwashed foreskin. He keeps watching, wondering what will happen, whether I'm going to take him all the way. I wonder if he's old enough to shoot yet. He doesn't have a hair on his body except for his head, but his little almond sized nuts tell me different. They hang down under his penis like little pendulums, jiggling as I move my mouth along his tiny cock. I start to roll them around in my fingers.

"Do I get more than ten dollars now," he asks out of the blue. I almost laugh, but I don't, instead I just nod, never taking his little rod out of my mouth. "Cool," he says.

I can feel him tense up, his body is rigid and I know he's close. I speed up making sure to press my tongue to the bottom of his dick, running it up and down the length, he lets out this whimper, almost like he's in pain and then grunts, I feel the first tiny spurt of boy juice hit the top of my mouth, then another. It's not too salty, he's not shooting sperm yet, just that clear stuff from his prostrate. He tightens his grip on my hair, almost to the point that it hurts, but I don't stop, I keep going, milking as much of his sweet fluid as I can. When I'm done, he hasn't shot much, but it's enough to give me a good taste of him. Finally I let his dick go and he looks down at me, weak kneed, he holds onto my shoulders so he doesn't fall over. His little dick isn't so stiff anymore, it hangs in front of me curving downwards, the blood drifting back to his body.

"Did you like it," I ask him, still rolling his balls in my hand, he nods. "Good," I say. "Do you think you can cum again?" He nods again. "Alright, go sit in the chair and jerk off," I say to him.

He stares at me a second, a bit disappointed, then waddles over to the chair and sits down. I watch him as he starts to roll the foreskin over the end of his dick and then back off, he's just using his thumb and two fingers. It looks adorable. I fish my cock out of my pants and his eyes get big as he sees the full stiff six inches [15 cm] of circumcised man meat.

I stroke my cock up and down watching him, trying to time myself to his second orgasm. I'm not sure if I'll be able to last, the kids got me so horny, I feel like I'm going to come any second. I have to stop now and again to keep myself from coming. Jordan groans and jerks his hips up in the air, his mouth forming the perfect little 'o' as he gets close. I speed up and just has he cries out, I cum, thick spurts of my seed go shooting up in the air and land on my belly. He's watching me, not able to take his eyes away from the sight.

When I'm done I grab the towel the boy used to clean the sweat off his body and wipe the cum off my stomach and hand. I look at him wondering how he feels now, if he might have that post orgasmic remorse that I felt when I was his age. It didn't look like he did, because he was smiling.

"That was so cool," he says, "how much money do I get."

I laugh and hand him the full twenty. He pulls his shorts up and walks over and grabs it. He doesn't leave right away, instead he sticks around and looks at my game system and TV. He sorts through the games I have, telling me which ones were cool and which ones weren't.

When he leaves he asks when he can come back and I tell him whenever he feels like it. I watch his little butt as he runs down the street, wondering what my dick will feel like when it's wrapped around it.

Chapter Two
The Boy in the Shower

I thought Jordan would be back soon, but it's been three days and I haven't seen him. I worry that maybe his parents found out and now they're keeping him under lock and key, but more than likely the kid just doesn't want to get naked so soon after his first time, at least I think it was his first time. Who can tell these days. I can still see that lightly tanned little ass, the pink little hole nestled between those bubble butt cheeks and I want to fuck the kid so bad.

The day is rough on me. I keep fantasizing about Jordan, it's not Chris anymore, even though I'd still like to hook up with him, no my mind is obsessed with getting into Jordan's boxers. I should've asked him to come back, given him a day and time, now I'm at the whim of a twelve year old. I think I see him walking home from school, but it's some other kid. The kid gives me a dirty look and flips me off as I watch him walk by. He's not as cute as Jordan, but he'd do in a pinch, I just wave at the kid and smile. My cell phone rings as the kid drops out of sight.

"Hello," I say, answering the phone.

"Quince," the voice on the other end asks.

"Yeah," I say, "this is Quince."

"It's Peter," the man says.

I met Peter a couple months back at the local fast food joint, the one the kids liked to go to because it had this huge playground with slides and all that. He was looking at this little six year old blonde boy running around in shorts too big for him. The shorts kept sliding down, pulling the kids undies with them, exposing his lilly white little bottom. Peter couldn't take his eyes off the boy, I was sitting behind him and saw the kid's father watching Peter, getting ready to come over and say something. I nudged Peter and he looked over and thanked me.

"The MPI is in Town," Peter says. MPI is short for Modern Pederasts International. It's a group thats been around for five years. The group caters to men who like boys. They aren't the only group around, there's the Orthodox Pederasts of Athens too. The MPI is different from the OPA, because the MPI believes that a boy's job is to please a man. You don't get involved with a boy because you want to enrich their lives, you get involved because you want to fill their ass with cum. The OPA doesn't see it like that, they follow the old Greek philosophy, don't push a boy too hard, don't try and get them to do anything they don't want to, nurture and educate them, all that malarkey.

I don't delude myself with that shit, I know I want to bone a boy, not teach him about mathematics, and I'm not going to tell myself different. If the MPI is in town, that's a good thing, at least for boy-lovers like me. It meant that they're expanding out of the city, coming to the suburbs. The only thing is that you didn't just show up at a MPI meeting, it was by invitation only. I couldn't help but wonder how Peter, a pretty piss poor pederast when it came down to it, got an invite?

"Are you sure," I say to Peter, thinking that maybe this was some kind of abolitionist prank, get all of us sickos together then plaster our pictures over the world wide web.

"I'm sure," he says, "The guy who invited me, he had this cute little black lab."

Peter is a disturbed man, before the legalization of pederasty, he used to use code to talk about boys, he still does. Sometimes it doesn't make sense. 'Black lab' probably meant dark haired boy and 'play', well if I have to tell you that, you really should be doing something other than reading this story.

"English Pete," I say, "what are you talking about?"

"I fucked a boy," Peter said, then let out a woop, obviously psyched to lose his boy cherry.

"I'm happy for you man," I said, "did you rape him."

"Why do you think I'd have to rape a boy," Peter says, insulted.

"Because you have the personality of a pit bull in heat," I say.

"Fuck you Quince," Peter says.

"I'm just kidding man," I say, even though I'm not. "Go on, you fucked some kid?"

There was a pause as Peter tried to get back on track, then he starts up again, all excited like it was Christmas in Vermont, "yeah. Cute little guy, dark hair, slim as a whistle. He was so fucking tight, I didn't think I'd get in him."

"Did you force him," I say again, trying to figure out how the pit bull got laid.

"No," Peter says, "he was a slave. The kid's owner left him with me for the weekend."

"No fucking way," I say, one of my all time fantasies playing over and over in my head.

"Yes way," Peter says. "The kid didn't fight at all. I offered him a chicken sandwich and he let me fuck his ass to my hearts content. I guess this guy was feeding him oatmeal and tuna fish, and I mean oatmeal and tuna fish, for every fucking meal. Can you believe that? What kind of sick fuck feeds a kid the same food every fucking meal?"

The kind that wants to convince them to fuck a stranger for a chicken sandwich maybe, I thought to myself, but I didn't say that, instead I say, "I don't know man. All weekend?"

"Yep," Peter says, "He just came and got him this morning. Man I fucked so much my dicks raw."

"I don't need those kinds of details," I say. "Fuck man, why didn't you call me?"

"No sharing," Peter says. "The guy made me promise."

"Fuck," I say, my mind trying to wrap around the idea that Peter could meet someone and convince them to leave their slave boy with him over the weekend. "Who was this guy," I ask.

"He's a friend," Peter says, "He gave me an invite, said I could bring you along."

"Are you fucking with me," I say in a serious tone, still not sure if Peter is on the level. "Don't fuck with someone like that man."

"I'm not," Peter says. "It's tonight at the Community Center. They rented the hall."

"No fucking way," I say, "The hall?"

"Yeah," Peter says, "It's a trip man."

I walk up to the community center with Peter. He's still talking about the little eight year old slave boy, how he squealed when he fucked him. Peter tells me the kid cleaned his dick off afterwards with his tongue, that the boy was a real fucking perv, but I know boys can't be pervs at that age, at least not that kind of perv. No the kid was just well trained.

When we got to the doors to the hall a man in his mid-twenties and a little blonde haired boy that looked around twelve, sat behind a table. There were name tags and little bags full of unknown goodies stacked in rows on the table.

"Invitation," the older man says, holding his hand out. Peter hands him the invitation. The man looks at it and then us. "Good," he says, "step behind the curtain."

We both start to walk towards the curtain, but the man puts his hand out to stop Peter, "One at a time." He nods towards the little boy and the kid follows me.

Before I can say or do anything the kid's fishing my dick out of my pants. He takes me into his mouth straight to the root, of course I'm soft, so it not that impressive, still, I let out a groan and grab the back of the kid's head, not wanting him to let go, but I feel a tap on my leg and the man's watching me, wagging his finger and shaking his head. "Just a test," the man says, "to make sure you're not crashing."

"Jesus," I say, stroking the blonde boy's hair, "you're a randy one aren't you?"

The kid smiles and licks his lips, making my cock twitch in front of his face. He flicks his tongue out across my glans and I groan.

"Quit teasing him," the man says to the boy, pulling him out from behind the curtain.

I write my first name down and the man throws the tag away and tells me I need a nickname, no real names here. I write down "Wang" and Peter seeing this, writes down "Wing", thinking it's funny. I shake my head, but we're in.

There aren't that many people inside, maybe forty or so. There are a few boys there, some with collars around their necks, a couple of them have leashes attached to the collars, slave boys most likely. All of the boys are dressed, even if they're only wearing a thong or speedo. I shake my head, remembering my time with my uncle.

There are a few booths lining the wall, Pete and I take a walk around to check them out. One has a monitor, on the screen a picture pops up of a wide eyed tow haired little tyke, his mouth stretched wide around a large cock. He looks to be eight or nine, his hair is curly and the boy's got a nice little tan. The next picture shows the cock shooting cum directly into the boy's mouth, filling it up. The last picture shows the boy with an indescribable grimace, obviously taking the cock in a hole other than his mouth. Another picture pops up of the boy naked with the price of ten-thousand dollars blinking over and over on the screen. The boys for sale. I move on, not interested. Even if I did buy a slave boy, I don't want a used boy, I want one with their cherry still intact. If I buy a boy, I want to be the first cock he feels sliding up his backside. I can't see paying that much money to be with a boy who's so stretched out, he can eat a cookie and smile while you're fucking him.

Pete's still ogling the screen, this time staring at a knock out gorgeous little ten year old boy with curly black hair and bright red little lips, sucking, fucking, crying, then posing. Fifteen thousand dollars for the little guy. The advertisement says he's guaranteed to please. I shake my head and push Peter away from the screen so we can move on. He looks back over his shoulder, the man at the booth is smiling.

The booths are all doing the same thing, selling boys, either by the hour or straight out. I'm beginning to feel sorry about coming along when I see him, this little blonde haired angel, maybe nine or ten, standing their rubbing his bottom. A man's holding a cane, lecturing the the boy. There's a sign next to him. Virgin, enslaved for a year, refuses to have sex. Beaten regularly, strict diet. All that means shit to me, what I'm looking at is the kid's eyes, they're deep blue and so fucking sad. I want to reach out and touch the boy, but I don't. He sees me looking at him and the kid just glares.

"How much," I ask the man standing next to him.

"He's gorgeous isn't he," the man says, like he's selling a horse or a used car.

"How much," I say, looking at the boy, standing there in a pair of lycra shorts, his little package clearly visible.

"Ten thousand," the man says, turning the boy around so I can see his cute little bottom.

"Why would anyone spend ten thousand on a boy that wont let you fuck him," Peter says, shaking his head.

"They wont," I say, "I can give you five-thousand right now."

Peter looks at me, shocked, then blurts out, "you can't buy the boy."

"Why not," I say.

"Five thousands a little low," the man says, "eight thousand."

"You're neighbors will burn down your house," Peter says, trying to talk me out if it, "think about it man."

"Five thousand and I'll transfer the money now," I say, not even knowing why, just knowing that when I look at this kid he just seems too fucking sad to leave to fate. The other boys, they've lost that part of themselves, the part that says, 'life isn't a complete bowl of shit', this boy hasn't. I don't want to see him lose it either.

"Right now," the man asks, looking at the boy.

"Yep," I say pulling out my smart phone, "just give me the account number."

It takes ten minutes, a bit of paperwork, and the boy's holding my hand as I walk through the rest of the show. He's crying, upset. I want to say something to him, let him know it'll be alright, but he wouldn't believe me, so I just drag him along. Peter's complaining, asking me how I expect to hide him from my housing association. I tell him to let me worry about that.

"What's your name," I ask the boy.

"Cumslurper," the boy says, an embarrassed look crossing his face.

"I know what he named you," I said, "what's your real name?"

"Kyle," the boy says.

"That's your name from now on," I say, "Cumslurper, what a fucking retarded name."

The boy looks at me, not saying a word, he's got this curious expression on his face. He wipes the tears from his face with his free hand and resigns himself to fate. A couple people compliment me on the boy.

"Attention," a voice says over the loudspeaker. "Abolitionists are protesting at the main entrance to the community center. We recommend that you leave the premises through the back door to avoid any altercations."

The message repeats a few times, some people are sticking around, but I head towards the back door, making sure Peter is following me. The men at the booths are packing up. It's over, the abolitionists are here and everyone knows what that means. There's never any violence, just a lot of picture taking and name calling, being a pederast isn't the in thing these days, at least not in this neck of the woods. I sometimes think I should move to New Athens, where pederasty is hip, so I don't have to worry about someone finding out my 'secret', then I realize it doesn't matter. I work for myself and no one I work for is going to care what I am as long as I do my job. I'm getting to the point that I want people to find out, just so I don't have to worry about it anymore.

I'm walking fast to my car, little Kyle following beside me. I open the door and he gets in and crawls in the back, buckling up without even being told to. Peter gets in the passenger side and I'm turning around just as I see the abolitionists coming round the back. They're holding signs and shouting. It all reminds me of the '80s, when slavery first started to boom.

I drive home not saying a word. Peter is talking to the boy, but the boy's not talking to him. He's quiet, I'm sure wondering what going to happen to him. The boy can't sit still, he squirms trying to get comfortable and I realize he was probably beaten recently.

"We're almost home," I tell him, the boy just looks at me with a frown.

I pull my car into the garage and close the garage door behind me. No one's out, so I'm pretty sure they haven't seen the kid. It's all dawning on me now. I just spent the five thousand dollars I was going to use for a vacation to New Athens to buy a boy that didn't want to have sex. I shake my head, buyers remorse.

Kyle follows me in the house, Peter following behind him, looking at the kid's ass. I hold out my hand and the boy takes it. I lead him to my spare bedroom the one I have my computer set up in. I stop Peter and tell him to go wait in the living room, he's frowning, probably hoping he'd get a peak at the kid without any clothes on. I pull out the sofa bed and smile. The kids not smiling. He thinks I'm going to try and get him to fuck me.

"You sleep here," I say. "This is your room, just don't touch the computer, alright?"

He nods, looking around at the movie posters on the wall. I sit down at the desk and gesture for him to come over to me. He walks over and I turn him around and pull down his shorts. He's not wearing anything underneath and I can see his bottom, covered in bruises and welts. I shudder wondering how anyone could beat a kid like that.

"That must hurt," I say.

He just nods again, not even bothering to look at me. I pull his shorts up and tell him to stay put, I'll be right back. I go to my bedroom and grab a t-shirt, then bring it in the room and toss it to him.

"Put that on," I say to him, "so your butt doesn't hurt so bad."

He looks at me and for the first time he speaks. "Thank you," he says, little tears forming at the corner of his eyes. I watch him slide the t-shirt on, then he pulls his shorts off and hands them to me. I reach out and pull him closer to me.

"Don't cry," I say, holding him by his shoulders. "I'm not going to punish you for no reason Kyle. I would never do that, okay?"

He nods again, but he wont look at me. I brush his hair out of his eyes and leave. Peter's in the living room sitting on the couch. He's watching a reality show about boys singing, only they're doing it in just body paint. The little brown haired tyke on the screen is sporting a stiff little boner, but man can that kid sing.

"I think you should go," I say, "the kids really shook up."

"I told you not to buy him," he says, shaking his head.

"I had to," I say.

"I know," he says. "You're going to regret it though."

"Maybe," I say.

"You wont be nailing those boys now," he says, as he walks to the door, "once people see you with him, every boy in the neighborhoods going to steer clear of this place."

"You're probably right," I say, even though I knew he was.

I turn back to the television and see that they're bring out stools with large dildos attached to them. I decide to turn the tv off just as a little red haired tyke is lifted up in the air by the announcer so he can take a seat on the dildo and stool, before the TV flickers off I hear the little boy wail as he's slowly lowered down onto the huge phallus. The last thing I want right now is to get aroused.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a beer. I sit at the kitchen table wondering what I've done. I hear the boy in the bedroom, he's apparently jumping up and down on the mattress to the pull out couch.

"Don't jump on that," I shout to him, trying not to sound angry, "you'll ruin it."

The jumping stops and I shake my head. The kid is a beauty, but I'm not sure if he's ever going to give in and have sex. I'm not a professional trainer, if a professional couldn't get the boy interested, how was I going to?

A couple hours later I look in on the kid and he's fast asleep, the t-shirt has ridden up around his waist and I can see his soft circumcised penis sticking out. The tip is red around the end, like its sore. I wonder what happened to it, but I decide I'll wait 'til tomorrow to ask questions.

In the morning I wake up and Kyle is standing at the foot of my bed, his hands behind his back, not a stitch of clothing on. I look at him wondering what's going on.

"Why are you standing there," I ask.

"Master made me wait for him to wake up," the boy says, "so I could watch him masturbate."

"You had to watch him masturbate," I ask.

"Yes," he says, "or I watched him with Cumbucket."

"Cumbucket?" I ask.

"He was master's other slave," the boy says, blushing.

"Well you don't have to do that anymore," I say, "but if you want to stay you can watch me."

I watch him as I slip my erect cock out of my boxers. The boy's expression doesn't chang, he just looks at my hand moving up and down my shaft. I look at his cute little body, wishing he had a stiffy.

"Get your dick stiff," I said.

"No," he said, "you can't make me."

I shook my head, realizing he was right, so instead I started to groan and thrust my hips in the air, giving him a bit of a performance. I watch as the boy looks at me, surprised at my reaction. Soon, despite his best attempts, his penis starts to stiffen. It's only three inches [7½ cm] long, but what it lacks in length it makes up for in charm. It's tan like the rest of his body, with a cute light pink head that just seems to want to be sucked. The boy's hand moves down to his crotch and I watch him as he starts to stroke his little rod.

"Stop that," I say, shocked that the boy is masturbating in front of me. "I don't want you touching yourself without permission, ever. If you do I'll have to punish you."

He looks at me his bottom lip puffed out, if you didn't know any better, you would've thought I'd just told him he'd be sleeping in the yard for the next year. I realize his previous master had allowed him to pleasure himself, certainly one of the reasons why he had never had sex with the man. I thought for a second he was going to cry, but instead he just got this angry little frown and puts his hands back behind his neck.

I continue to jerk off, moaning as I slow down, trying hard to make it last. When I finally cum, it shoots high up in the air and lands all over my stomach and chest. I scoop some up and hold it out to the boy. He looks at me, his nose wrinkled in disgust and shakes his head. I smile and stand up, then head for the shower.

"Come on," I say, "It's time to wash up."

The boy enters the shower behind me. I figure his old master must have made him help him while he bathed. The boy grabs a sponge and lathers it up and starts to wash my front, steering clear of my semi-hard cock. He does it quickly, obviously wanting to get it over with. He leaves my penis for last, but I see it in his eyes as he debates whether or not to continue, the shame.

"Kyle," I say, he looks up at me, "You don't have to come in the shower with me if you don't want to, okay?" He nods his head. "Go on," I say, pushing him out the door. "I'll finish up. You wait out there until I'm done."

When I open the door again, he's fidgeting with his penis, he looks up, not expecting me to catch him. He's got this look of dread on his face, obviously expecting the worst. He sniffles and arches his back. so his penis is sticking straight out in front of me, like he's presenting a target.

"Did he hit your penis," I asked. Kyle nods, tears streaming down his face, anticipating my punishment. "I'm not going to do that," I say. "I'll spank you, but I'll never do that."

He looks at me, like I'm crazy, not believing me, I can tell. I pull him inside of the shower and hand him the bar of soap and the sponge. He washes himself, looking at me as he soaps his body up. He knows he's not supposed to touch himself, so When he's done he hands me the soap and I lather up my fingers. I softly stroke his stiff little cock, under the guise of washing it, but he gasps, looking at me as I do it.

"Just say no," I say, "and I'll stop." He doesn't say anything, he just leans back against the wall, allowing me to stroke his little rod. It stiffens between my fingers, until it's hard as a board. I know he's going to cum soon, so I pull my hand away and say, "all done."

"I think it needs to washed more," he says, looking at me with these pleading eyes.

I shake my head and point him towards the door, "not right now it doesn't."

The boy gives me a dirty look, so I throw a towel over his head and start to dry him off, laughing to myself. One day and I've gotten farther than the other guy had, or had I? I began to wonder exactly what the man had done with the boy.

"Kyle," I say, "I know you had sex with your other master, didn't you?" The boy shakes his head. "If you're lying to me, I'll have to punish you," I say, patting his bottom with my hand. He shudders. "What did you do with him," I ask.

He was quiet for a second, then he says, "I jerked him off and let him suck me."

"You ate his stuff too," I say, "that's why he called you Cumslurper, wasn't it?" He nods his head as he looks at me, blushing. "Did you ever suck him off," I ask.

He shakes his head, I think he's telling the truth. I finish drying the boy off and lead him out of the bathroom. I grab a clean t-shirt and he pulls it on, covering his nude body. I get dressed soon after and head into the kitchen. The little boy stands there, his hair messed up, still a little damp.

"So," I say, "He lied about you being a virgin."

"No master," the boy says, a serious look on his face, "Master was quite large, I wouldn't let him put it in my hiney or my mouth."

"Will you let me put it in your hiney or mouth," I ask, as I crack an egg and let it drop into a hot pan. The egg sizzles as I wait for an answer, when none comes I look at the boy.

He's got a sad look on his face. He doesn't want to do either of those things. He knows it will hurt, even if I'm smaller than his previous master.

"I'll suck your juices master," he says, trying to meet me halfway.

"If you'll suck my juices," I ask him, "why can't you suck my cock?"

He waits for a second and then looks at me and says, "If you promise not to put it in my hiney, I will."

"Alright," I say, "that sounds fair."

The lusty monster inside wants it now. He wants to see those little pink lips wrapped around my cock as I stroke his dark blonde hair, but I wont force him, that would be the worst thing to do. He's nearly broken, I couldn't see it before, because he was angry, but I see it now. The shame is all over his face and he's so sad.

"Kyle," I say, "I never want to hear the name Cumslurper again." He looks at me, wondering where I'm going with this. "It's a horrible name to call anyone. You're not a cum slurper, you're a sweet little boy and no one should make you do anything you don't want to."

"Can I touch my penis master," he asks.

"Not right now," I say. "But I'll let you do it when it's time."

"When will it be time master," he asks, reminding me of a child asking his parents how much longer it's going to take to get to grandma's house.

"I'll let you know," I say, as I finish up breakfast.

We sit in the living room and Kyle plays a video game. He's smiling as he fights an alien horde invading earth. I look at him and I feel this connection, one born of shame. I was always ashamed when I was a boy, my uncle forcing me to do things, then turning my mind around 'til I thought I liked them. I couldn't see myself doing those things to this boy, but I knew I wanted to.

The doorbell rings and Kyle looks at me, wondering what he's supposed to do. I wave my hand so he knows he can keep playing the game. I walk to the door and look through the peep hole. I was expecting Peter, but it isn't Peter, it's Jordan. He's standing there in a pair of khaki shorts and a black tank top, fidgeting on the steps, looking around hoping no one sees him. I open the door and smile.

"Hi there," I say. "What's up buddy?"

"Can I come in," he says, looking over his shoulder.

"Sure," I say, stepping aside. He walks past me and stops when he sees Kyle.

"Who's he," he asks.

"That's Kyle," I say.

"Kyle," I say, "this is my friend, Jordan. He does odd jobs around the house."

Kyle looks at him, certain that he knows exactly what kind of odd jobs Jordan does, then says, "hi."

"Hi," Jordan says, then looking at me says, "maybe I should come back."

"No way," I say, "you don't have to leave. Kyle's cool."

"I don't care if you stay," Kyle says, "It's master's house."

"Master?" Jordan says.

"I bought him last night," I say. "He's a slave."

"Why does he have clothes on?" Jordan says, "I thought they had to run around naked."

"No," I say, shaking my head, "only if you want them to."

"Oh," he says, then looks at Kyle again. "Why is he a slave?" Jordan asks, straight and to the point.

"I don't know," I say, "I never asked."

"My mommy sold me," Kyle says, not even bothering to look away from his video game. "She needed money."

"Well there you go," I say.

"She sold you for money," Jordan says in a horrified voice.

"Yeah," Kyle says. "It was a long time ago. I'm over it."

I knew that the Kyle wasn't over it, how could anyone be over something like that.

"Lets not talk about that," I say, putting my hand on Jordan's shoulder and guiding him to the couch. I sit down beside him and ask, "what brings you around Jordan, ready to earn some more money?"

He looks at Kyle and blushes, then says, "I just wanted to hang out."

"That's cool," I say, "but you know I wouldn't mind having you do some stuff for me, if you're up for it."

He jerks his head towards Kyle his eyes getting big, I whisper in his ear, "he doesn't care, don't be shy."

"I need twenty dollars," Jordan whispers, looking at me.

"Well I have twenty," I say in a low voice, "do you want to do what we did last time?"

Kyle looks over his shoulder, hearing us whisper and says, "I can hear what you're saying."

I want to send Kyle away, but I have other ideas. I look at Jordan and smile, then say, "Jordan let me suck him last time he was over and he's a bit shy."

"I don't care if he sucked you," Kyle says in a matter of fact voice. "I bet he'd give you forty if you sucked him."

Jordan's eyes get big and he blushes, he starts to get up but I grab him and pull him back down on the couch, then I tell him, "don't be like that. Kyle doesn't care. He's seen more boys have sex than you can imagine."

"Only three actually," Kyle says in a matter of fact way, "Cumbucket, Courtesan, and Dufus. Well there was that boy at the convention in San Francisco, but I can't remember his name."

"See," I say. "He wont care."

"What if he tells," Jordan asks.

"Who am I going to tell," Kyle says, "I can't leave the house."

I was starting to like Kyle more every time he said something. I look at Jordan and he looks at me. I place my hand on his thigh and say, "what if you and Kyle did something together?"

"What do you mean?" Jordan says.

Kyle's staring at me, wondering the same thing. I say, "well Kyle wants to learn how to suck a penis, I thought he might suck yours, then you can suck mine together."

"I don't want to do that," Kyle says.

"It'll be fun and I'll give you both a reward," I say.

"I want money," Jordan says.

"What kind of reward?" Kyle asks, curious.

"Whatever you want," I say, "as long as it's reasonable."

Kyle looks at Jordan then me, before I can say anything else he pulls the t-shirt over his head and stands there naked and says, "I'm in."

"See," I say, "you don't think he's going to run around telling everyone he sucked your penis or helped you suck mine, do you?"

"He told me about those other boys," Jordan says, still worried.

"You don't even know them" Kyle says, "so what's the big deal?"

"Come on buddy," I say, unbuttoning Jordan's shorts, he doesn't resist, he just watches me, this worried look on his face. "It'll be fine," I say.

"I don't know if I want to suck you," Jordan says.

"You think I do," Kyle says, "I'm doing it for a reward."

Jordan looks at us, his penis is out now, half hard and twitching as it grows. I run my finger along the length and Jordan starts to get this dreamy look. "It'll be fine," I say.

The boys are laying on the floor, one on top of the other. They're sucking each other's little cocks. I didn't tell them to do that, Kyle was the one that was supposed to suck Jordan, but somewhere along the line, in their passion, they got carried away and now they're in a lurid little sixty-nine. I smile, stroking my cock as I watch, not letting myself get too excited, just keeping a bit stiff. I don't want to ruin myself for the next act.

I hear Jordan whimper from the bottom of the pack. Kyle is a forceful boy, he took control right way, pushing the little hispanic boy down and laying on top of him, saying, "suck me too."

The boys are really getting into it. Kyle moans humping his little hips, thrusting in and out of Jordan's mouth. I think to myself that I would've spent ten-thousand easy to be with this boy, even if he never let me fuck him. Kyle's something special, I can tell. He's got moxy, or whatever you call it.

Jordan's at least two years older than Kyle, but you wouldn't know it, the twelve year old is about the same size and both of them are completely hairless. The only way you can tell Jordan is even close to being a teenager is the sweet juice he shoots when he cums.

"Oh," I hear Jordan moan and I know it'll happen soon. I watch the two boys, Kyle's slowing down, drawing out Jordan's pleasure, Jordan doesn't want it to last, he just wants it and starts to hump his hips up off the ground. Kyle takes his cock out of his mouth and giggles, looking over at me, wondering if I think it's funny. I just smile and continue to watch.

"Don't stop," Jordan says, "I'm going to cum."

"I want to cum too," Kyle says, poking his dick at his new friend's lips. Jordan groans and takes the boy's little stiffy back in his mouth. Kyle lays on top and just licks Jordan's cock, pulling the skin back, so he can twirl his tongue around the head. He seems to know what he's doing and I suddenly realize this probably isn't the first boy he's done this with.

"Is he bigger than Cumbucket," I ask.

Kyle looks at me for a second, this kind of sadness in his eyes, then says, "yeah, Cumbuckets only seven."

I imagine what his little buddy looks like, wondering if he's as cool as Kyle is, because right now, Kyle is the coolest kid in the world to me. Jordan starts to moan again, only this time I hear this rapid breathing coming from Kyle and realize he's cumming, it's silent, but he's there. I wonder if Jordan knows that the little dick poking in and out of his mouth at a fever pitch is actually having an orgasm. Before I can say anything Jordan lets out a high pitched whimper and his body goes rigid as his dick flexes in and out of Kyle's mouth, filling it with his small dollops of fluid.

Kyle doesn't take the boy's dick out, he just sucks it, letting the juices shoot. I see him swallowing, then with a plop, his mouth lets go and Jordan is panting, looking down between his body, like he can't believe what's just happened. Kyle smiles and says, "feels good don't it?"

"Yeah," Jordan says, breathing heavy, "did you cum yet?"

"Yep," Kyle says, rolling off the other boy.

The two of them kneel down, naked, their dicks slick with spittle looking at me, knowing what's supposed to happen now. I lean back and smile, taking my hand away from my six inch [15 cm] stiff as a brick cock.

"You guys rest for a bit," I say, "then you can start on this."

Chapter Three
A Tale of Two Boys

"It's not that bad," I say, "you guys sucked each other, mine is just a bit bigger." Actually my dick is nearly twice in size. At six inches [15 cm] long, six and half [16 cm] if I get really excited, it's about average for a man, but for a twelve and nine year old boy, it's still pretty big. "Who wants to go first?" I ask.

The boys look at each, then Kyle pushes Jordan towards me. Jordan looks at the boy, then sighs as he crawls the few feet it takes to reach me. He looks up at me and asks, "can't we just jerk it off?"

"No," I say, "the deal was a blowjob."

Jordan shakes his head, he takes my dick in his hand and then leans forward sticking his tongue out, looking at me as he does it, probably hoping I'll stop him, but instead I just smile and nod. His little pink tongue feels like velvet on the head of my dick. I groan and he pulls away, worried about what was happening. "Don't stop," I say.

I watch him as he runs his tongue through my pre-cum, getting a taste of the clear fluid oozing out. Kyle is next to him now, looking at Jordan, then me. He reaches his hand out and holds the base of my cock. Jordan looks at him. I have to put my hand on the top of his head and point him back towards my cock to get him to start licking again. He's running his tongue along the shaft now. He knows he's tasting my juices, I can tell by the queasy look in his eyes, but he doesn't stop, he's resigned himself to the task at hand.

The two little boys look so cute nestled between by knees. The dark haired hispanic boy with his tongue running all over my cock, and the blonde haired, blue eyed tyke holding my cock up for him. They both are watching my thick dick, wondering what's going to happen, knowing that it's going to shoot stuff out eventually.

"Suck it," I say to Jordan. "Put it in your mouth."

"Do I have to," Jordan asks, looking at me like I'm asking him to eat spinach.

"Yes," I say, "come on it's not that bad. I sucked you."

"But mines not hairy," Jordan says, then without any more prodding, he slips the glans inside of his mouth and I cry out, half in pain and half in pleasure.

"Watch the fucking teeth," I say, feeling them scrape softly across my shaft.

"Sorry," he says, pulling my dick back out.

"Keep sucking," I say, "It's okay, just be careful."

Jordan nods, his lips once again wrap around my cock. I moan as I feel his tongue flick against my glans. Jordan's watching me and Kyle's watching Jordan, knowing it'll be his turn soon. I stroke Jordan's dark hair, running my hands through his little spiked locks, feeling like I'm in heaven. Jordan's a natural bottom, I can tell. He's watching me to make sure he's doing it right. He's starving for attention and right now he's got my undivided attention.

Kyle's moving one hand up and down my shaft as Jordan sucks the tip of my cock and using the other to stroke his own little three inch [7½ cm] stiffy. I think about telling him to stop, but I just let it go, knowing that I intend to fill the kid's mouth next, hopefully with a healthy dose of spunk.

"Kyle's turn," I say, looking at my little slave boy. Kyle stares at me for a second, then at my cock. "Come on buddy," I say, "show Jordan how it's done."

Kyle smirks as he pushes Jordan aside and takes my cock in his mouth, sucking a good length of the rod inside of his mouth. I moan and I lurch forward as I feel the warmth of the nine year old's mouth surround nearly my entire cock.

"Cool," Jordan say, watching his new buddy work my tool. "He must suck lots of cocks," Jordan says. That gets Kyle upset and he pulls off and looks at the boy, his eyes like daggers.

"No I don't," Kyle says, "I just know what I like when you're sucking me, dummy."

"Sorry," Jordan says bashfully.

Kyle doesn't miss a beat, the next moment he's got me back inside and he's sucking away, using his tongue to run along the underside of my cock. I moan and put my hand on top of his head, guiding him up and down the length of my shaft.

"Do you think you can take it all," I ask Kyle. Kyle looks up and nods, never taking my cock out of his mouth, a second later he's making a slow descent down the length of my cock. I feel it bump the back of his throat and he gags, he almost made it. I think he's done trying, but he's not, he gives it a second go, this time I feel the tip enter his throat and I moan as his throat muscles surround my glans.

"Wow," Jordan says, his face inches from cock as he watches the lewd display, then he says, "Let me try."

Kyle gives me this knowing look and pulls off my rod. It's slick with his spit, shiny even. Jordan wipes it off with a hand towel, then looks at me, making sure that I'm watching him. He takes my cock in, but he can only get about four inches [10 cm] before he starts to choke, still it feels like heaven, his mouth squeezing around my shaft is pure bliss.

"You can do it," I say smiling at the boy. He looks up at me, this serious look on his face, he wants to do this, to beat the other boy. This time when he goes down, Kyle puts his hand on the back of Jordan's head and pushes the boy all the way down. Jordan gags, his eyes get really big, but Kyle doesn't let him up 'til I grab his hand and pull it away.

"You did it," Kyle says with this evil little grin. Jordan looks like he's about to cry.

"Are you okay buddy," I ask Jordan as I pull him up to sit beside me. He nods his head, frowning. "What the fuck," I say to Kyle, "what did you do that for?"

Kyle's face goes white, his grin is gone and he looks at me with these pleading eyes, "I'm sorry, it was just a joke. I'm sorry Jordan."

"Fucking aye," I say to the little slave boy, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to my crotch. He opens his mouth and lets my cock slip inside. I use my hand to guide him on and off my dick. Jordan's watching him, he puts his hand on top of mine to stop me.

"I want you to do it in my mouth," he says, looking at me with this look of adoration, "I want to make you feel good." He crawls back down between my legs and takes Kyle's place. I watch him as he slowly moves his mouth up and down the length of my cock. I put my hand on the back of his head to guide him on and off of my cock. He doesn't resist, instead he looks at me, trying to make sure he's doing it right. The young warm wet mouth is coaxing the seed from my balls. I can feel the tingles as they surge up from the base of my cock.

"Don't swallow," I say, "Just hold it in your mouth when I come." Jordan nods, never taking his mouth of my cock. I can feel it now, the surge of pleasure as it rushes up my cock, cum shoots into the little hispanic boy's mouth, filling it up, he starts to choke, trying to keep up with it, but he doesn't swallow, instead his cheeks just puff out. I groan, pulling all but the tip out as it continues to jerk and spasm, shooting more seed into the dark haired boy's mouth. He's looking at me, wondering what he's supposed to do and I pull out and point my cock at Kyle, without saying a word, Kyle wraps his lips around the tip, drinking whatever is left over as it spills across the little blonde boy's tongue. I groan as the pleasure slowly dies down.

I look at the two boys. Jordan looks like he's a chipmunk with a mouthful of nuts, and Kyle has this sour look on his face, obviously not fond of the taste of cum. "Give it to him," I say to Jordan. Jordan doesn't get it, he's wondering what I mean. "Spit in his mouth," I say, "so he can swallow it."

Jordan looks at Kyle, not wanting to force the boy to do it, but Kyle just leans forward and opens his mouth, kissing the boy as Jordan feeds him my juices. When he's got them all, Kyle looks at me and opens his mouth, showing me the pool of white goo coating his tongue and teeth.

"Swallow," I say and he does, it slides down his throat with one big gulp. I look at the two boys, their hair is messed up and they look tuckered out from all the sex play. I'm still pissed at Kyle, I want to pull him up over my lap and spank him 'til he can't sit down, but I don't. Instead I look at Jordan and smile.

"Good job Jordan," I say, "and Kyle, you need to go to your bedroom."

"I'm sorry," Kyle says, "I was just kidding. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"He didn't hurt me Mr. Rogers," Jordan says, "it's okay."

"It's not okay," I say, "and he knows it. Go to your room Kyle, I'll be in to talk to you in awhile."

Kyle looks at me, his bottom lip puffed out, I think he's going to cry, but he doesn't, he just walks over to grab his t-shirt from in front of the television and heads to his room. Jordan's watching, feeling guilty about getting the boy in trouble. He has no idea he hasn't done anything wrong, I place my hand on his shoulder and smile.

"It's okay buddy," I say.

"I didn't mean to get him in trouble," he says looking at me.

"You didn't get him in trouble," I say to him pulling him up to sit on my lap, "he got himself in trouble." The boy gives me a half hearted smile and I rub his tummy, looking at his still half-hard cock, bobbing in front of him, trying to stay erect. "Do you want me to suck you again," I ask, Jordan nods.

I spend the next ten minutes sucking the kid's pecker as he moans, laying back on the couch, his hands locked in my hair as his body tenses up and finally shudders as his little cock throbs and spits out the last remaining drops of his boy juice on my tongue.

When he leaves he tells me he wants to come over tomorrow. I tell him to drop by any time he wants. I guess Peter was wrong, Kyle isn't going to chase all the boys away, not yet anyways.

I go to check on Kyle and he's sitting on his bed, fingering his little willy. I frown, I can see he's probably addicted to masturbating. It'll take a lot of discipline to get him to control his urges. He looks up to see me watching and pulls his hand away and covers his little stiffy with his t-shirt.

"You can't do that all the time," I say, as I walk over and sit down beside him. "I thought we talked about this."

"I'm sorry," he says bowing his head, like he's ashamed.

"You don't need to be sorry," I say to him rubbing his back, "you just need to get some self control. You're dick'll be sore if you keep playing with it like that."

"I miss Cumbucket," he says to me, as if that explains everything.

"What does that have to do with it," I ask him.

"We used to do each other," he says, "like me and Jordan did. He was a good kid."

"He's still a good kid," I say to him.

"I'm worried," he says, "Master's not nice to Cumbucket. He hasn't fed him in days because he spit out his stuff. If he doesn't feed him soon…"

"What are you talking about," I ask him.

"My old master," Kyle says, "he wasn't feeding Cumbucket because he spit some of his stuff out, but he couldn't swallow it all master, really he couldn't."

"How long has it been since he ate," I asked.

"A week, maybe longer," Kyle says, this worried look on his face, "He wasn't moving when I left. I love Bucket, I don't want him to die. Master, you said I could have anything if I sucked you, I want you to save Bucket. Please save him master."

"Fucking aye," I say, looking at Kyle, wondering what the hell I could do. "Where does your master live?"

Two hours later I'm standing in front of a modern house sitting underneath the seqouias near Marin County. I knock on the door several times and after a couple minutes the man answers. He looks at me trying to place where he'd seen me.

"Mr. Rogers," he says a bit shocked to see me. "It's so good to see you."

"Where's Cumbucket," I say pushing past him.

"Hey," he says, "what's the big idea, you can't just barge into my home."

"Where is he," I say as I head to the back of the house, towards the room Kyle's told me about. When I open the door I see the boy. He's crumpled up in a ball, lying on a mattress on the floor, and it looks bad. I reach down to check the kids pulse, he still has one. "You fucking monster," I say.

"You don't understand," the man says, pulling me away from the boy. I punch him, square in the nose, he falls backwards straight on his ass.

"I understand," I say, for a second seeing my uncle and not the sleazy slaver.

"He wouldn't listen," the man said, "you have to discipline them."

"Starving him," I say, looking at the naked little seven year old, his body showing signs of a recent beating, "and God knows what else. You could go to prison for this."

"No," he says to me, not bothering to get up, just holding onto my ankle, begging me, "you can't do that. I'll do anything. You can have him. Come on you can't do this to me. The boy's fine, just feed him a bit, I know what I'm doing."

"Draw the fucking papers up," I say, lifting the boy up off the dirty mattress. I hear the little guy whimper, he's in so much pain, it's hard to even look at the boy.

The papers are signed and I'm walking out to the car. I pull a protein bar out of my pocket and chew it up, then feed him a little bit at a time, he moans as he looks at me. He has light brown hair and brown eyes, his skin is a soft tan, like he's Spanish or Italian. I worry he wont be able to keep it down but he does. I lay him down across the backseat and cover him with my jacket.

As I drive home I try to take the bumps as softly as I can, each one causes the little guy to cry out. I pull into my garage and wait for the door to close behind me before I pull the little boy out and bring him inside. I want to take him to the hospital, but I know what'll happen, they'll repossess him and put him back in the system, then who knows who'll get him.

I carry the boy into the house and Kyle leaps up from the chair he's been sitting in and runs over, crying, "Bucket. Oh Bucket, what did he do to you?"

"Slurpy," the little boy says weakly, looking at Kyle like he doesn't believe the boy's there.

"He'll be okay," I say, as Kyle wraps his arms around his little friend, "We just need to let him rest."

"Bucket," Kyle sobs, not letting the boy go. I realize that this little boy cradled in my arms has been the only friend Kyle's had in a year and now Kyle thinks he's lost him for good.

"His name's not Cumbucket anymore," I say to Kyle, "his names Oliver."

"Please don't die Oliver," Kyle says, tears streaming down his cheeks.

I feed Oliver a little more food, making sure he drinks a bit of water too. Kyle sits beside us, holding Oliver's hand, sniffling. Oliver looks at me, frightened, wondering what's happening. The boy's out of it, in that place half here and half somewhere else, and unless you've gone without food for a few days, you don't know that place. My uncle used food as a weapon when I stayed with him, I know what's happened and I know what you have to do when it happens.

You want to eat everything you can see at first, but if you do, it just makes you sick and you'll throw it back up. The trick is to eat slow and drink a bit of water. When you do that it'll stay down. I feed the boy baby food, it's easy on the stomach. He looks at me, not complaining, just not sure what going to happen to him. I see the marks across his body and I hope the man didn't break the boy's soul, but my heart says he has.

That night I put a t-shirt on the boy and lay him down next to me in my bed. Kyle sleeps on the other side of me. Every time Oliver shifts, I wake up. Sometimes I just watch him sleep, even in his dreams the kid's sad. I stroke his hair and sing a song my mother used to sing to me when I was sick. The kid smiles for a second and I almost loose it.

"I'm so sorry Oliver," I say looking at the boy as he lays there beside me.

"Why are you sorry," Oliver says in this tired beautiful voice, the first sentence I've heard the boy utter since I found him.

"Because I didn't find you until tonight," I say.

Oliver reaches up and strokes my cheek, smiling, then a serious look comes over his face, "are you going to hurt me?"

I look at him and shake my head, "I'll never hurt you Oliver. I promise."

He smiles and closes his eyes and falls to sleep. I lay awake watching the boy, I don't remember when I fall asleep, I only know that when I wake up Oliver isn't there and I start to panic, until I see him standing beside my bed, naked, his hands locked together behind his neck.

"What are you doing," I ask him, shocked to see the boy standing there.

"I told him not to," Kyle says, walking into the bedroom, "but he was afraid you'd punish him if he wasn't ready for you."

I reach out for Oliver and he flinches, I grab ahold of the boy gently and pull him back to the bed. I look at him stroking his hair and say, "I know you don't know me Oliver, but I know you and I promise you that I'll never punish you for no reason and you know what else?" The boy shakes his head. "I'll never ever make you wait for me to wake up," I say, "Okay?"

He nods his head and Kyle says, "see I told you."

Oliver is doing much better this morning, but he's still sore and weak. A week without food is a long time. A man can survive much longer, but a boy, who knows how much longer he might've gone. Even without the fear of death, there's the other problems, the psychological trauma, the weakness of the body and the soul. I can't imagine anyone doing this to a little boy, it's beyond me, especially one as sweet and handsome as Oliver.

I prop Oliver up on the couch and let him watch TV. I feed him now and again, still baby food, but he doesn't complain, he just gives me this curious look. Kyle sits beside him the entire time, not doing anything but looking at his little friend, the one he'd left behind to die or at least that's what he thought.

I look back and I see what I thought was odd behavior as something else now, the cruelty towards Jordan, the sense of doom, the lack of emotion, it was Kyle's way of dealing with the fact that his only friend might die. His old master had frightened him so much, that he wasn't willing to even say anything about it. That was the reason he sucked me, to get his friend back. Kyle's reward, at least in his mind, was his little friend's life.

That afternoon, as little Oliver sleeps on the couch, Kyle corners me in the bedroom and unzipps my pants. He fishes my cock out and takes it in his mouth, sucking it all the way in, looking me in the eyes as he does it. I groan as I feel him slide back and forth along the length of my shaft, my mind is lost in the sensations of his warm mouth.

There's this serious look in Kyle's eyes as he watchs me, not hesitating, just trying to make it feel as good as he possibly can. I place my hand behind his head and guide him on and off of my cock, picking up the pace as I feel I'm about to cum. He speeds up on his own, flicking his tongue along the bottom of my shaft, trying as hard as he can to bring me off.

When I come it hits the back of his throat and he coughs. His eyes water as he pulls all but the head out of his mouth, stroking the rest with his hand as he lets my cum spill out across his little tongue. When I'm done I pull out and he opens his mouth, showing me the pearly white seed that's filled his mouth to capacity, then he swallows.

"Why did you do that," I ask, smiling at the boy.

"Because you made me happy," the boy says. "I wanted to make you happy too."

"Well you did," I say smiling, lifting the boy off his knees, "but you don't need to do that if you don't want to."

"I want to master," Kyle says. "I like making you happy."

"Thank you buddy," I say, messing up his hair.

Chapter Four

Oliver is sleeping on the couch. He looks so small and fragile, I'm not sure what to do with him. I look over at Kyle, sitting in front of the television playing a video game and wonder what's happened to me. My life is so upside down and all I can think is, 'I need to get out of this house.'

I want to go for a walk, see something besides these four walls, but I can't, I have to watch the boys. I wonder if I made the right decision, then I see Oliver laying there and there's no question in my mind. I sit in the chair in the living room watching him sleep, the way his chest rises, just a little bit, as he parts his little pink lips and takes a breath.

I never took the time to really look at Oliver, but I do now and I see how beautiful he is. His light brown hair is cut in a bowl pattern, an outdated style, but still it looks good on him. The color of his hair doesn't seem to go with his skin, a sort of soft tan with an olive hint, it's out of place here in the states. If I was to guess, I'd think his parents were European and Hispanic, but that's just a guess. It's nothing for him to be ashamed of, he's a striking child. His features are soft and pleasant, rounded like most little boys that age. He seems about the right size for a boy of seven, maybe a little thin, but that could be because of malnutrition.

There's no doubt that Oliver is a beautiful boy, even more so asleep. He seems so at peace and content, not even aware of the world around him. I sometimes think God made boy's soft and gentle so men would want to protect them, to keep them and love them. I can't see how anyone could hurt such a beautiful child.

I make some soup for lunch, chicken noodle. I bring a tray out to Oliver and he eats two bowls. I watch him and try to get him to talk, but he's quiet, frightened still. It'll take time for that to go away. Right now he thinks I want to shove my dick up his ass and maybe he's right. When it finally comes time to sodomize them, Kyle will go first, I know that. He'd do anything to save his friend from suffering and Kyle's made it clear that he believes that kind of sex is something to be suffered. Kyle also knows that Oliver is so grateful he'd do anything to make me happy. If I asked the little tyke now, he'd bend over the chair and bite a pillow til I was done.

Being starved does that to a person. It makes them willing to go to any lengths just to be full. I plan on filling up the boys, I'm not a saint or a liar, I just want to do it as close to their terms as possible. Besides I have a feeling of the three, Jordan's the one that needs a good fucking. I'm surprised he hasn't shown up yet. I was expecting him before morning cartoons were over, maybe he's gotten shy again.

I watch Kyle and I can see he's got his hand under his t-shirt, stroking his little cock. I wonder if he wants me to catch him playing with himself. Something's got to give here. I wait til I think he's almost there, then I throw a rolled up paper towel at him. He pulls his hand away and looks at me.

"What were you doing Kyle," I ask.

"Nothing," he says. "I was just watching TV."

"It looked like you were playing with yourself," I say.

"No I wasn't," he says, shaking his head, like somehow that made it true.

"Go to the study," I say.

"Why," he asks me.

"Don't ask questions," I say standing up, waiting for him to go ahead of me.

I follow him to the study. he's walking slow, like he's heading to the gallows. I reach down and swat his butt and he yelps and looks over his shoulder, then picks up the pace. When we get there he sits on the bed, pulling the bottom of his t-shirt down, obviously not wanting me to see his stiff little prick.

"We talked about this," I say. "You can't play with yourself all the time."

"But I don't do it all the time," he says.

"You do do it all the time," I say, then remind him of the many times I've caught him over the last two days.

"I know," he says an embarrassed look on his face, "but I can't help it. I want to stop, but it just feels so good."

"I've got something to help you with that," I tell him, reaching into a drawer to pull out a small box.

"No," he says, seeing what I'm holding in my hand. "I wont do it anymore, I promise."

"It's too late for promises," I say reaching over to pull up his t-shirt. His little rod is red and sore from all the tugging he's been doing. I don't think he'll injure himself, but I know it can't be good for him. I pull out a small metal ring about an inch [2½ cm] wide. The ring is made to deal with problems like this. Essentially it prevents a boy from having an orgasm. I'm not sure how it works if the boy can't shoot cum, but I'm willing to try anything to cure Kyle of his little masturbation problem.

"Please," he says, grabbing ahold of my arms. "I'll suck you."

"No," I say, pushing him back so he's laying down. "It's going on whether you like it or not. You should have listened."

Kyle sobs as I take his stiff little prick in my hands and glide the ring over the tip. I pull it down to the base and the boy whimpers. He knows what's coming, I wonder if he's worn one before or just seen boys wearing them. He squeals as I push each of his balls through the ring one at a time. Once they're through I turn a little nob underneath that locks the ring so it's set to my DNA. I watch as the ring automatically starts to tighten. Kyle isn't going to be taking it off til I say so.

The boy squirms on the bed, his hands reaching down to his crotch, trying to release the ring from around his stiff little prick. Tears are forming in his eyes and he gives me a pleading look. I just shake my head and stand up.

"You can't make me wear this," he sobs, looking down at the silver ring.

"I can for medical reasons," I say, "and compulsive masturbation counts as one."

"Please Master," he says, "I'll do anything."

"I'm sure you will," I say, "but that's not coming off any time soon, so you might as well save your breath."

"You can masturbate whenever you want," he says, "I thought you liked me."

"I do like you," I said, "I like you a lot, but I'm not going to let you jerk off all day. Look at your poor willy, it's all red and sore. You can't stop yourself, this is going to help you to do that."

"I can stop," he said. "Oliver will suck it for me."

"I'm not going to make Oliver suck you all day," I said. "Just because you can't stop tugging on your dick."

I can't help but find it arousing. His balls are pulled out from his body now, tightly pressed against his little shaft. His dick will be hard most of the time that he wears the ring. I can loosen it so it goes down if I want, but the sight is oddly arousing to me. Besides the main reason people use the rings is to punish the wearer for masturbating without permission, if I took it off as soon as he asked me to, what kind of message would I be sending the boy?

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with masturbation, at least not before a kid makes seed, in fact a lot of masters encourage their slaves to do just that so they can get them sexually charged. The problem is that kids like Kyle start to do it all the time and it tends to deplete their reserves, not to mention causes them to get sore.

Kyle's sitting on the couch fidgeting with the ring, trying to loosen it. I don't say anything, he'll learn soon enough that there's nothing he can do to loosen it, that it'll loosen on it's own when it's time. The ring is made by an Atlantean company in New Athens, it automatically monitors the vitals of the wearer to ensure that no harm will come to the boy wearing it. It's only purpose is to keep the boy erect and almost completely incapable of achieving an orgasm for as much time as possible.

I'm sure if Kyle tugged on his dick long enough he'd get some tingles, but it would have to be a long time. For now he just sits there, pulling the t-shirt up to look at his little stiffy, then he looks at me with these pleading eyes. I just shake my head.

Oliver giggles. He thinks it funny to see his friend in misery, he doesn't understand how much Kyle wants to jerk off, or maybe he does. Kyle tries everything to get his ring off. He follows me to the kitchen and gets on his knees. I don't say anything as he fidgets with my zipper and pulls out my cock.

He goes to town like a boy with a mission. I groan as the head of my dick brushes the back of his throat. He looks at me with his clear blue eyes, trying so hard to please me. I feel his tongue brush the underside of my cock, lavishing the bottom of my glans as he takes all but the tip in his mouth and strokes the rest of my shaft with his fist. I stroke his hair, moaning as I feel myself get close. I want nothing more than to come in his mouth, but I know why he's doing this and I don't want to lead him on.

"I'm not taking the ring off buddy," I say. "you're going to wear it for the rest of the day."

He stops sucking, holding my cock still in his mouth, I think he's frowning, but I can't tell with his lips wrapped around my dick.

"You can finish up," I say, "but it's not going to make me take it off."

He takes my dick out of his mouth and looks at me, then says, "not even if I swallow?"

"Nope," I say.

"But I got to do it so bad Master," he sobs, "Please Master."

"I tell you what," I say, "you let me fuck you and I'll make you cum."

He looks at me, his eyes wide with fear, lost in thought, then quickly shakes his head no. I smile, happy to know he's not that compulsive that he'd be willing to give up his ass for an orgasm. I shake my head and walk towards the living room.

"What are you doing," he asks, following behind me.

"I'm going to have Oliver suck me off," I say, "since you don't want to."

"Please," Kyle says, "I can suck you. Don't make him."

"I wasn't going to make him," I say, "I was going to ask him."

"He wont say no," Kyle says, "he likes you too much."

"Too much," I say, "maybe you just don't like me enough."

"I like you," Kyle says, "I just…"

I look at the boy, wondering what he's thinking, for a second hating myself for putting the boy through this, but then I realize that it's for his own good. He's been so sexually stimulated he can't stop himself. I shudder to think what kind of man he'll be if he doesn't get some control over it now. He'll probably end up being one of those perverts who writes boy love stories on the internet.

"I know," I say kneeling down in front of him. "Kyle, I really don't want to do this to you, but you can't do it all the time. I tell you what, tonight we'll take it off and I'll give you a really nice orgasm, but if you touch yourself again, it's going to go right back on."

"Can't you give me one now," he asks in that whiney kind of voice kids get when they want a new toy.

"No," I say, "tonight."

"Do you still want me to suck you," he says.

"I do," I say, "but I really want to do it with Oliver, but I wont if you don't want me to."

"I don't want you to make him do that," Kyle says, "I love Bucket."

"Don't call him Bucket," I say, "his names Oliver."

"Sorry," Kyle says in a soft voice. "You can ask him, but if he doesn't want to, please don't make him."

"That sounds fair," I say, patting the boy on the shoulder.

I walk into the living room and see Oliver sitting there watching a show. I can see his small uncircumcised cock sneaking out from underneath his t-shirt. The thought of having the little guy suck me is almost overwhelming, it's only the sound of a knock on the door that stops me from begging the boy.

I walk to the door and look through the peep hole and my heart skips a beat. It seems Jordan has decided to make an appearance, only this time he has Chris tagging along with him. Both boy's are looking around, obviously nervous someone is going to spot them. Only boys that have a reason to feel guilty do that, so either Jordan has told Chris what's going on at my house, or Chris has committed some crime and decided to hide out at my place, I think it's most likely the former.

I open the door and ask in my friendliest, non-pederastic voice, "hey guys what's up?"

"Hi Mr. Rogers," Jordan says, "can we come in?"

I want to let them in, but at the same time I'm not sure what Chris knows or what he's going to do with what he knows. I can't shake this image of him going to the local abolitionist committee and exposing me as a slave owner and pederast.

"I don't know boys," I say, "I have some guests."

I look at the boys. I notice that both of them are wearing clothes a couple sizes too small for them. Chris is wearing a yellow t-shirt with a monster truck on the front and a pair of tight blue jean cutt-offs that leave very little to the imagination, in fact I can see a prominent bulge in the front of his shorts. Jordan is wearing his typical tank top and shorts combo, only the tank top is too small and leaves a bit of his tight light brown belly exposed. The shorts the boy is wearing are clinging to his body like a second skin, from the outline his little penis is making, I doubt he's wearing underwear.

"He knows about Kyle," Jordan says, not oblivious to the fact I'm checking them out, "he's cool. He wants to meet him and you know…"

"No," I say, trying to sound upset that he chose to tell Chris, even though I was sure he would. "I don't know."

"Well he wants to do some stuff with him," Jordan says.

"You do," I say, trying to sound surprised as I turn to Chris. "What kind of stuff."

"I'm not saying out here," Chris says, obviously impatient, "Can we come in or not?"

"Of course," I say, the wheels in my mind working, "come on in."

The two boys walk in and Jordan immediately sees Oliver and asks, "who's the new kid?"

"That's Oliver," I say.

"Hey Jordan," Kyle says, giving a little wave, "who's your friend?"

"This is Chris," Kyle says, "he wanted to meet you."

Kyle says nothing, instead he just gives them this little smirk and adjusts his stiffy underneath his t-shirt.

"So what's up boys," I say looking at the two 'dressed for sex' boys.

"I want to do stuff," Chris says, sounding a bit bashful.

"What kind of stuff," I ask, a bit surprised at how forward the boy is.

"All sorts of stuff," he says.

"He wants you to fuck him," Jordan says giggling.

"No I don't," Chris says, punching Jordan in the arm.

"Boys," I say, "don't fight."

I look at Chris, who's face has turned red and kneel down in front of him.

I place my hands on his shoulders, look him in the eye and whisper, "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," he whispers back, "but I'll only do it for forty dollars."

"I'm not going to pay you," I say out loud, looking at the boy.

"What do you mean," he asks me, looking at Jordan, obviously thinking the boy has lied to him.

"I mean I'm not going to pay you guys to have sex," I say as I stand up.

Chris looks up me, this curious look on his face, then he looks at Jordan who looks like he's just been run over by a mack truck and says, "You mean you want us to do it for free?"

"Hey," I say as I turn my back on him, "It's not like you're not getting something out of it."

"What," Chris says in a angry voice, "I'll just be getting your dick in my butt, you're the one that's going to enjoy that."

"I'll fuck you master," Oliver says, looking at me with his soft brown eyes.

"I know you will," I say, smiling at the boy, "but right now I want you to get your rest, maybe when you're feeling better."

"I feel fine," the little tyke says staring over the back of the couch, "I can fuck you good too, Master Henry said I've got a real tight ass."

I look at the boy wondering what he's done with his previous master, I kneel down in front of him and ask, "did Master Henry put his penis in your bottom?"

"No," the boy said, almost as if he was embarrassed, "just his finger, but he said it was really tight and that I was going to be a good fuck. Do you I think I will be master."

"I know you will," I say, "but not today okay?"

"Why not," he says, rolling over to show me his pink little hole, nestled in the cutest lightly tanned seven year old valley, "don't you like my bottom?"

"Oh," I said, patting him on the leg, "I like it a lot, but today we have guests, and if anyone should get fucked, it's them."

"I aint letting you fuck me for free," Chris says walking towards the door, "come on Jordan, this guys whacked."

Jordan stares at his friend and starts to follow him then stops, looks at me, and says, "No, I'm staying here."

"What are you a fag," Chris says, "you want him to fuck your ass?"

"Shut up," Jordan says, "he's my friend and I don't care if he pays me or not. I like him."

"I'm not doing it for free," Chris says hesitantly. I can tell what's going on, the boy isn't saying he wont let me fuck him, just that he needs something to justify him letting me in his ass. He's probably been shoving carrots up there for awhile, now he wants to know what the real thing is like, well that's my fantasy anyways. I look at Kyle and a glimmer of hope enters my heart.

"I'll let you fuck Kyle first," I say.

"I'm not letting him fuck me," Kyle says.

"If you do," I say, "I'll let you take off your ring."

Kyle looks at me, a frown on his face, then nods his head. I smile and look at Chris, waiting to see what he'll say. He looks at Kyle and I can tell he wants to. Kyle for his part pulls his shirt up revealing his little package to the boy, nicely trussed up in the little cock ring.

"Okay," Chris says to me, "but you have to stop if it starts to hurt."

I nod my head, even though I know that once he lets me inside of him, he can't stop me until I'm done. In case you haven't been listening, its called the rule of penetration, once a boy gives a man permission to fuck them and then lets that man penetrate them, the man can continue fucking the boy til he cums. The law was instituted because of a pederasty scam that was going on, where a group of boys were going around accepting a ton of gifts from horny men, then leading the men on, but stopping them before they had a chance to fuck. It wasn't a big deal until it started to spread across the state. The only way to discourage the boys from trying the scam was to change the law. I'm certain little Chris isn't really aware of the whole law, but only the gist of it.

"You say the word and I'll stop," I say with a smile.

"Okay," he says, "but I get to fuck him first."

"Sounds good," I say.

I watch as the boy's get undressed, Kyle just needs to pull his t-shirt off (note to self, buy Kyle something to wear), but Chris has to do more and he does it slowly, almost like he's teasing me. I watch him remove his shirt first, exposing his little smooth chest with the small almost invisible pink nipples that seem hard as little diamonds. His belly is smooth, with just the slightest hint of muscles that causes it curve down in to this pleasant little 'v', all building off of the cutest little lightly haired pubis in the world.

I kneel down in front of the boy, unable to help myself. I run my hands through his soft little pubes and for the first time, the obnoxious little boy smiles. He watches as I take his limp little circumcised prick and stroke it up and down. I can't get over how beautiful it looks, the pale shaft, only about long as my index finger with the cutest light pinkish colored tip, that looks good enough to suck. Leaking from the tip is the smallest amount of fluid, a pleasant sign of more to come.

"You're beautiful," I say.

Not pretty, not handsome, but beautiful, and it's true, he is. I look at this boy and I can see why I wanted him so much. He's not perfect, the little mole on his side reminds me of that, but rather it's his imperfections that make him so beautiful, the way his almost ruby colored lips are bit bigger than they should be, and how his face is just a little rounder than other boy's his age, it gives the appearance of young boy in a larger boy's body. It brings out this innocent charm that you don't expect.

I look at Jordan and see the sadness there, not jealousy, but the thought that he's going to lose me to the pretty white 'gringo'. I hold out my hand too him and he takes ahold of it as I pull him to me. He struggles with the button on his pants, trying to pull them down, so he can expose his own treasures to me. I smile at the boy, there are so many reasons to like Chris, but there are so many more to love Jordan.

Jordan is a genuinely good child. His heart is sweet and his mind is still caught in that place a child can live and love in, Chris is starting to cross that threshold, even if he really doesn't want to. Maybe it's the hormones, the fact he's more mature than his friend, I don't know, all I know is that Jordan is one of the sweetest boy's I've ever met. He wants to make you happy and he seems so lonely you want to take him in your arms and hold him.

I look at Jordan and touch the end of his nose with my finger, then tell him, "you're beautiful too."

He smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulder, looking at me with those sweet dark eyes that I think I can drown in if I want to. I rub his back as I stroke Chris's stiff little rod, rubbing the juice that rises up from his pee slit around the tip. The boy moans, looking at me with his eyes almost closed. I can't help but smile, he's been with a man before, I can tell by the way he looks at me, how he moves his hips, not thrusting erratically, but erotically.

"Have you had sex with anyone else," I ask him in a soft voice. He blushes but shakes his head. I smile at him and ask, "who was it."

"I can't say," he tells me, this sad look suddenly coming across his face. My first thought is his father or brother, maybe an uncle, someone that shouldn't be touching him, but is.

I stifle my lust for just a moment and whisper in his ear, "you can tell me if you want and I wont tell anyone."

He looks at me and then at Jordan, I motion for Jordan to go stand by Kyle. When he's sure no one will hear him, he leans in and whispers his dark secret into my ear. I rub his back, and for a second I wonder what the world is coming to.

Kyle is bent over, his stiffy is still trussed up, but he doesn't seem to care. Chris is kneeling behind him, blonde boy to blonde boy. I can feel myself getting horny as I watch the two prepare to fuck. Chris is brutal, but what can you expect. He takes the younger boy and grabs hold of his hips and jabs his cock inside the boy's ass in three quick stabs.

Kyle winces and gives the older boy a crazy look, the kind of look that says, 'you try that crap with me and I'll kick your middle class ass.' Chris stops stabbing and starts stroking, getting the hint. It doesn't stop him from enjoying the smaller boy's bottom, in fact he's very vocal.

"Oh yeah," he moans as he slides his cock back and forth, gasping. "you're so tight."

"You're so big," Kyle says in reply, knowing how to turn the older boy on.

They couple like rabbits, Chris doesn't even move his hips back, he just grinds them against the younger boy, moving ever so slightly in the tight chute. Kyle coos as he feels the slim little rod poke that pleasant little spot in his bottom. I watch the two, feeling my cock stiffen in my shorts, without thinking, I sit on the couch next to Oliver and pull my cock out.

Oliver stares at it, not with fascination, but a knowledge I can't help but think he shouldn't have, for some reason it saddens me a bit. He grabs my cock as casually as he might a toy and I can't help but wonder how much the kid has had to go through. I take his wrist in my hand and pull it away.

"You don't have to do that," I tell him.

Oliver looks at me and shrugs, turning back to the action in front of him. Jordan snuggles up next to me, naked as a jaybird. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him tightly to me. I lean down and kiss him on the lips, he looks up at me like I'm strange, but doesn't resist. I lean forward again and run my tongue against his lips, for a moment nothing happens, then he gets the hint and opens his mouth. He pushes against my tongue with his own, the sensation is so intense I feel my cock throb, then there's that little grip again. I look back over at Oliver and he's grinning at me as he strokes my cock.

"You don't have to," I say, "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

"You look funny when I play with it," he says smiling at me. I reach out and tickle him, causing the boy to let go of my dick as he curls up into a half naked ball and laughs uncontrollably.

Jordan is smiling, he crawls off the couch and helps me attack the little guy. After about twenty seconds he's threatening to pee, so we stop. He looks up at us smiling and I feel this emotion welling up in me, one I can't place. I reach out and stroke Oliver's hair gently and he looks up at me and for the first time I see what he looks like when he's happy.

Jordan crawls between my legs and takes my cock in my hands, I think he wants my attention, when he swallows half of it in his mouth, I know he does. I groan at the sensations and watch as the boy pushes me in and out of his mouth.

Kyle is moaning, his head down on the carpet. I can tell he wants to come so bad, but the little ring isn't letting him. Chris isn't having the same problem, he's thrusting like a madman at Kyle's tiny bottom, fucking the boy like it's the last fuck he'll ever have in this lifetime.

Kyle's dominance is over, he gives himself over to the older boy, letting the boy roll him over so he can fuck him missionary style. He grunts as the boy pushes all the way in in one stroke. He lets out little groans as the older boy struggles to bring himself to orgasm.

Suddenly Kyle's eyes bug out and he starts to thrash around. Chris grabs the boy by the hips and holds him on his cock. I realize it's an anal orgasm. I didn't think they were real, but here is a little nine year old caught in the middle of one. I guess a cock ring doesn't do much to stop a prostate massage. I call it a freebie and wonder how far off Chris is.

It doesn't look like he's too far gone, he starts to swear, and I mean words I wont tell you, calling Kyle nearly every name in the book, but Kyle doesn't even flinch, apparently he's made of rubber and Chris is made of glue.

When Chris comes, he's completely silent, literally holding his breath as his pale cheeks flush and his little dink spasms in the boy's bottom, ejecting the meager juices the boy has to offer. When he's done, he looks down at the smaller boy and smiles.

"Why did you have to call me names," Kyle says in an angry voice. "I don't call you a mother-fucker do I?"

I can't believe how good Kyle's hearing is. Chris blanches, his face turning a bright red. I push Jordan away from me and rush over to the boy, hugging him close to me. Tears start to stream down his face as he kneels there, like he's lost in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"I didn't want to," he says sobbing, "she made me. I swear."

"I know," I say, rocking the boy in my arms.

He looks at me, tears streaming down his cheeks and I glare at Kyle, he jumps up and leaves the room without having to be told. Jordan is sitting on the couch wondering what's going on. Oliver knows though, despite the age difference, and he comes over and pats Chris on the shoulder.

"It's alright," he says softly, wrapping his arms around the boy, "I was a cum bucket for awhile."

Chris looks at the boy for a moment and then laughs. Oliver smiles at him and rests his head on the boy's chest. I stand up and let the boy's hold each other, understanding that what they have to share between each other will heal more than I ever could.

I don't fuck Chris. I just can't bring myself to do it. I actually do something I never thought I would, I call the authorities. I can't send him home to that. As a child I was used by many people, but nothing ever humiliated me more than when it was a woman. I can't imagine if my own mother had done something like that to me.

Chris doesn't try to stop me, he just wants it to end. Secrets can kill you, at least on the inside. I hold him in my arms as the Social Worker asks if I'm his mentor. I look at the boy and say, yes. They tell me he can stay with me until custody is worked out, but that I shouldn't try to do anything for awhile, that it might just traumatize him more. I tell them I'm old school, that there's no need to worry.

Chris and Oliver sleep on the pullout in the study. I have Kyle in bed with me. He's snoring softly, his mouth hung open, a blissful look on his face as he absentmindedly massages his freed little prick. I smile at the boy. Half the time he doesn't even know when he's doing something good.