Bill Underhill

Charles Taken in Charge

My name is Dave. Greg and I have been friends for a few years. We met entirely by chance at a local mall, both of us having shown up late one Saturday morning to scope out the local talent. I noticed him seated on a bench outside the games arcade, opposite the corner at which I leaned, scanning the boys as if he were looking for one in particular, but I could tell that his interest wasn't directed at any one specific youngster. At the same time, the type of kid he was checking out was pretty much the same as the sort I was admiring. Somewhere between eight and eleven, slender, smiling now and then, independent.

I took a chance and sauntered over to his bench, seated myself, and nodded toward a particular youngster, a sandy-haired kid of about ten whom I'd seen once before but had never spoken to. "That one," I said in a low, conversational voice, "looks promising. The baggy gray shorts, with the red tee-shirt."

He glanced at me, then back to the arcade. "He's not with anybody. No parents or friends."

"He's showing off his GITSCH mark." I nodded toward the boy's carefully rolled-up left sleeve, bearing the old healed scar of the universal vaccination against sexually transmitted diseases.

"One of the older kids tried to grope him," said the stranger. "He just smiled and shook his head. Not scared or upset."

"Think he's looking for something bigger?"

"Could be."

"Maybe two somethings?"

He looked at me more attentively. "How's your civil service pension?"

"Don't have one. Never been in government employment of any kind. You?"

"Never was, not now, never will be. Name's Greg. You?"

"Dave."

He nodded, got up and walked over to the corner of the arcade. I could see him smiling and saying something to the boy, nodding toward me, and heading back to the bench. The boy followed, and when Greg sat down again the youngster glanced from one of us to the other. "I gotta be home before 4:00 o'clock," he said.

Greg nodded and pulled out what looked like an oversized cell phone. He glanced at the screen and smiled. No bugs, no tracking devices. "Come on outside."

I triggered my own baffler the instant we got out of the mall and Greg led the way into the parking lot. "How much?" I said to the boy.

The kid pressed his lips together. "F-fifty?" he asked softly. Greg cocked an eyebrow, and the boy glanced around. "For both of you, I mean."

"Fifty's a bit steep," lied Greg.

"Not for two." The boy scowled self-consciously.

I smiled. "Ever had two?"

"Uh, yeah."

Certainly. Two friends the same age, maybe, in a circle jerk.

Greg appeared to think, and came to a decision. "Okay," he said. "Fifty." He extended his hand, and without further thought the boy shook it. I put out my own and we made it a deal. Greg led the way to a panel van parked near a tree and clicked it open. The boy had a grin on his face as he stepped up and in, letting Greg guide him to the jump seat between and just behind the driver's and passenger's seats. I went around the opposite side, taking in the nondescript clutter in the otherwise empty van interior as I got in. Much more space than in my own extremely generic minicoupe, but nothing suspicious about it.

I got in as Greg was instructing his other passenger to buckle himself in. "Yeah, it snaps like that. Pull it snug, and we can get going. I know a place in the woods where we can be private."

Greg got the engine started and we pulled out of the mall parking lot. The drive didn't take us far, but we were down a firebrake and into a snug little spot that might as well have been miles away before he'd gone more than half-a-klick. The engine had barely had a chance to warm up.

Greg unbuckled his seat belt and I snapped mine open as well, but the boy appeared to be having problems with his. As he pressed at the release again and again, Greg got up and eeled his way into the back of the van, giving me a come-hither. As I slid around the boy's seat, Greg threw a lever at the base of the seat's pedestal and swiveled the seat around to face the rear of the vehicle.

"Hey!" the boy objected, confused. "What's going on?"

Greg didn't say anything in response, but he glanced at me. I took the hint. Kneeling, I pulled off one of the kid's sneakers and then the other.

"Tsk!" I regarded one foot, warm and sweaty in my hand as the kid squirmed in his seat. "You really ought to be wearing socks."

Greg picked up one of the boy's sneakers. "He's right." He looked at the youngster solemnly. "These things are gonna smell like something died in 'em unless you've got something on your feet to soak up the sweat."

"I, I don't like wearing socks," the boy protested.

"But you've got to wear shoes or something, right?" I picked up his other foot, carefully spreading the toes apart to inspect the folds between. "You let these get soaked in sweat, you're going to get athlete's foot, sure as anything."

The boy struggled with the buckle on the seatbelt, but to no avail.

"I wanna get out." He glanced from one of us to the other. "Y-you can keep your fifty. Just let me out of here!"

Greg shook his head. "A deal's a deal," he replied, moving to take the kid's arms in his hands, holding them against the boy's chest on either side as he gazed into his captive's eyes. "You're going to get your fifty, I promise." Then he turned and blinked at me. "Could you please help me with this shirt?"

"Sure," I replied, and while Greg kept the kid under control, I slipped the red cotton tee-shirt up the boy's body and wrangled it off one arm and then the other before pulling it up and over the sputtering, protesting ten-year-old's head. I draped it over the back of the passenger's seat. "Shorts, too?"

Greg kept his eyes on the kid's face. "Yeah. I've got him."

It was a good thing, too. Strong for such a skinny little boy, he writhed and jerked and tried to kick, but I got his waistband unfastened and worked the zipper down without too much trouble. I had to be careful with that.

"Darn, no underwear." I shook my head a bit, giving the boy a disapproving look. "Did you just get dressed in a hurry today, or don't you like underwear either?"

His face was hot with embarrassment, but the boy didn't say anything. I returned to my work, getting the shorts down over his ass, pressing his thighs and then his knees and finally his feet and ankles together to slide his last garment down his legs and off. Then I settled back on my heels to admire him.

"Not bad," I admitted. He'd flexed his hips and knees to conceal his privates, but I pulled both knees down and pinned them to the seat of his chair. "But how come you haven't got a hard-on yet?"

"I'm, I'm not queer!" the boy growled, his nostrils flaring with rage as he glowered at me.

That got a rumbling laugh from Greg. "Yeah, sure. I think you're just scared. Makes some guys go soft, when they're scared enough." He leaned forward and kissed the kid on the nose, startling the boy. "I don't blame you, though. Two grown-up guys like this, with you strapped down and bare-ass, you ought to be scared."

"Look," I put in, and the boy's pretty brown eyes focused on my face. "You really shouldn't have come from the mall with two strange men. You don't know either of us, do you?"

A bit puzzled, the kid shook his head just a little.

"Never seen either of us around, right?"

Again the head shake.

"Okay, then. This is the kind of thing that gets a pretty little boy like you raped and murdered. You understand that?"

The boy's face wasn't ruddy any more. It had gone pale, and his eyes wide with fear, he nodded, just as slightly as he had a moment before.

"Are, are you gonna do that to me?" He looked back and forth from me to Greg, who was still holding the boy's arms.

My new friend frowned. "We could. And that's why what you did was so damned dumb."

I nodded endorsement, but I kept hold of the boy's knees. "This could've been dangerous as hell for you. Have you ever gone with men for money before?"

The boy blinked, but he nodded. His color was coming back. "A couple of times," he admitted. "I, they, uh…"

"Yeah," put in Greg, grinning. "They played with your dickie, maybe you got a grown-up cock in your hand, maybe you even got sucked a little, right?"

Surprised, the boy looked up at his captor, nodding. "Yeah. How did you know?"

I laughed. "Because we used to be kids ourselves, idiot. I don't know about my friend here, but I used to screw around with grown-ups until after I was in high school." I smiled. "Then I gave up on grown-ups completely and went over to screwing around with nobody but little guys like you." I leaned over and kissed his pretty little penis, so calmly that he didn't even flinch.

That got him hard, almost instantly.

"So, uh, wh-what are you guys gonna do to me?"

"Huh!" Greg glowered at him. "We're going to get you back to the mall so that you can get home before four o'clock. How long does it take you to get home from the mall, anyway?"

A limited shrug. "I dunno. Maybe fifteen minutes."

"Okay," said Greg. "Then we'll get you back to the mall by three-thirty at least." He smiled. "We don't want you getting into trouble with your folks."

"Absolutely," I endorsed. "We don't want them putting you under hack."

The kid blinked at me, not understanding. I sighed.

"We don't want them grounding you. Or even telling you that you can't come to the mall on your own."

"Yeah." Greg nodded. "We're gonna want to see you again."

"Huh?"

Again I sighed. "Look, kid, it's not even noon yet. We've got you here for at least three more hours. After we're done with you, I'm betting that you're going to want to do this again." I grinned. "And not just because you're going to go home with our fifty bucks."

I leaned forward again and this time I took his little dick into my mouth. After a moment, I felt the boy's hands on my head, fingers running slowly through my hair, his middle shifting as he pushed himself up against my face. I heard Greg moving around and as the kid paused for an instant – his penis going even harder against my tongue – I knew that my new friend had stripped himself just as naked as our little victim here.

"Don't let him cum yet," Greg advised, and I shifted back and away to take off my own clothes.

Greg had knelt next to the boy's seat, gazing into those pretty brown eyes, wide-open at the sight of the well-muscled and completely nude grown-up man.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Ch-Charles," replied the youngster.

My companion smiled. "Not 'Charlie'?"

The boy blushed a little. "I don't like that name. It's like that stupid movie."

"Yeah," I said, sitting down to get my jeans and underpants down and off my legs. "I don't blame you. Do you like 'Chuck'?"

The boy had caught sight of my own cock, and his eyes went round again. He shook his head. "N-no, sir."

"Okay," said Greg, gathering up the boy's chin gently and turning the kid's face back to look into those melting young eyes. "Just 'Charles'." He leaned forward and kissed the boy lightly on the lips. "Just the way you like it, Charles, because you're a beautiful, sexy little boy and we want you to be happy. All right?"

Dreamily, Charles nodded. "Yes, sir. That'd be nice."

Greg reached down with both hands and disengaged the trick lock on the boy's seatbelt, and guided the kid down onto the deck of the van between us. I noticed that it was lined with what felt like a double layer of something about the consistency of a wrestling mat, a really dense waterproof plastic foam fitted with some kind of tough canvas covering.

"Ever sucked cock before, Charles?"

Blushing, the boy averted his eyes a bit. "No, sir." He looked up again. "On other guys from school, from the neighborhood, yeah, but never on a grown-up."

I chuckled as I shifted to a position behind the boy. "I don't blame you on that either," I said, caressing his smooth, warm shoulders from behind. "I like sucking little boys, too. But grown-up cock is different." He was staring at Greg's big fuckpiece like the proverbial sparrow at the snake.

Grinning, Greg gave his hard sex a few slow pumps. "Try it," he said. "You'll like it."

I tightened my hold on Charles' arms, enough to assure him that he wasn't going to get away. "C'mon, little guy. I know you want to find out what it's like."

He looked over his shoulder at me, scared, and I gave him a hug, letting him feel my own strength around his bare young body. I kissed him on the forehead and smiled down at him. "It's just a cock," I reminded him. "You've sucked boy-cock before, right? It's just bigger and stronger. No big deal."

Charles looked again at Greg, then at Greg's big hard-on. He swallowed and leaned forward, reaching for it with one hand while I held him lightly, one of my hands on his shoulder, the other sliding down his flank to hold him at the hip as he knelt in front of me.

"Whoah!" he breathed, unable to get his hand all the way around the shaft of Greg's cock. "It's big!"

"Why, thank you," replied Greg, shifting to give himself to the kid. "I'm glad you like it."

Glancing up at him, Charles grinned. He started giving the big dick a gentle back-and-forth as he looked up at Greg's face. "I guess you're the biggest grown-up guy I ever did this to. Played with it, I mean."

"Thanks," Greg said again. "Ah, that's nice. I can tell you've got some experience with grown-up dicks." Gently, he gathered the boy's head in his hands, caressing Charles's hair and ears. "It's going to be so good to have you take my cock into your mouth."

The boy nodded slightly, and let his face be guided forward. Almost without thinking, Charles used the back of his other hand to wipe the glistening tear of pre-cum off the tip of Greg's prick. There was only a little hesitation as he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of grown-up maleness before he took the head of that handsome cock into his mouth with a little moan of unconscious pleasure.

For ten or fifteen seconds, Charles moved his head back and forth as he tongued the big dome of flesh, and then he backed away, blinking as if he didn't quite believe that he'd done something so weird. Automatically, he wiped his lips with the back of his other hand, not noticing the taste of Greg's pre-cum there.

"If we're going to do this right," I suggested in the boy's ear, "we're going to need him to lie down, don't you think?"

Gratefully, Charles glanced back at me, nodding. He turned to Greg again with a determined look on his face. "C'mon," the boy said, getting all the way up on his knees and reaching for Greg's wrists. "Let's get you on your back."

Amused, Greg allowed the child to jockey him down flat on his back, his knees and hips flexed a bit as Charles knee-walked over to position himself between Greg's thighs, one hand on each of the hairy hips.

"I know that you big guys squirt stuff when you have your good feelings," said Charles, frowning. "If you do that in my mouth, I'm gonna be really pissed at you. You got that?"

His eyebrows arched, Greg nodded.

"Okay," said Charles. And holding the root of Greg's cock in one hand to steady it, the boy bent again to take the bulbous tip of it into his mouth.

There's a lot of funny ways people think about cocksucking. All sorts of 'humiliation' stuff about somebody being made to serve the pleasure of a guy by taking his dirty, smelly, pissy penis into your mouth.

Little boys don't tend all that reliably to take it that way. From a kid's viewpoint, the guy doing the sucking is in control. It's what he does that makes the other guy squirm and moan and get the tickle-bone from hell.

When two little boys jerk each other off, it's almost always a goddam contest, and the guy who cums first is the loser. Kids know that getting sucked is always more sexy than getting jerked off, which is why little boys almost always want to do it "69." The one doing the sucking has all the advantage.

Okay, so there's Charles kneeling between us, getting to suck the cock of a real, live grown-up man who's just lying there, flat on his back, meaning that Charles is the one in control. And there's another grown-up man kneeling next to him, with big warm hands sliding all over Charles' shoulders and back and bottom, and everybody's totally bare-assed just for Charles to do this stuff.

Nobody but these grown-up guys are ever gonna know about it – meaning no teasing from anybody at the arcade or anything like that – and Charles is gonna get paid for it.

What's not to like?

Leaning over the boy, I murmured softly in his ear: "Slower! Take your time. You don't want to make him bust a nut right away, do you? We got hours to have our fun. Play with his balls a little, okay! Gently! They're not rocks, y'know. Yeah, that's it. You're such a good kid, so careful. You sure you never did this with a grown-up before?"

Charles gave me an "Unh-uh!" without taking Greg's cock out of his mouth. He was focused.

I pulled the boy away from his work and sat back on the floor of the van, my right knee flexed. I seated Charles on my folded leg and cuddled him against me as he stared down at Greg's cock, aching to finish the job.

Greg lay there taking shuddering breaths, his eyes showing that thousand-yard stare I'd recognized as the sign that he was about to shoot a load of joy-juice into Charles' hungry young mouth.

"Jeez," I whispered into the boy's hair, "you damn' near did him, didn't you?"

The boy looked up at me, smiling with shy pride. "Yeah, I guess. He's got a nice one, hasn't he?"

I nodded agreement and kissed the top of Charles' head. "So do you."

He gave me a sort of "c'mon!" look and I reached over his shoulder to take his little stiffie between my thumb and fingertips. Like most American kids, he was cut, and I played with him for a long moment, wondering what he might've looked like if the damned doctors hadn't mutilated his pretty penis before he ever got a chance to use it properly. Oh, well.

"I think you've got a fine little pecker," I said. "Nice and hard for me, and very tasty."

Charles giggled.

"Am I tickling you?" I asked.

"Nah!" He grinned up at me. "It's just funny, you saying my dirty old dingus is tasty."

"So? Didn't you like the way his dick tasted?" I nodded at Greg, who had rolled over on his side facing us, smiling up at Charles.

"Well…" The boy paused in thought. "It, uh, kinda tasted okay, I guess." Charles shrugged. "Not like any of the guys in my class, I mean." He looked at Greg's face. "I guess you're the first grown-up I ever tasted, so I don't know how a grown-up's dick is supposed to taste."

"You've got another grown-up dick right next to you," said Greg, nodding toward my lap, and the boy shifted a bit, looking down and to his left, his eyebrows arching at the sight of my own cock, just as impressive as Greg's in its own homely way.

Without thinking, Charles reached down for my prick with both hands and gave it a good squeeze, testing the thickness and hardness of it.

"Wow!" he breathed. "Pretty neat!"

I shifted with a gasp. "Hey! Take it easy!"

"Sorry!" Charles replied, but he didn't let go, moving around until he was on his knees again, leaning over my lap. "Okay, your turn!" He looked at me. "Lay back."

What could I do? Obediently, I went back on my elbows, shifting my legs, and the naked little boy got belly-down astraddle my right leg, humping his little hard-on against my knee as he bent to take the head of my cock into his mouth.

Charles' technique wasn't much. Damned few little boys who come to their first experience with mancock ever give their 'victims' the sort of suction jobs you read about in porno novels. Charles simply applied the tender loving care he knew that he himself liked, a bit of tongue action, some up-and-down, matched unconsciously to the pulsebeat, with lots of saliva to lubricate the movement.

That and the sight of his shut-eyed young face, his total concentration on the scent and feel and taste of the big body beneath him, his determination to get and keep command of another grown-up man, to make a strong, tall adult react as he desired…

Oh, damn. If you don't understand what that sort of thing does to a guy, quit reading right now. You're not worth the air you're breathing.

While that was going on, Greg got to his knees and came to crouch over the boy's nakedness, his hands running up and down the smooth young body, his focal point – naturally – Charles pert, up-arched little ass as the kid luxuriantly dry-humped my leg.

Greg bent low to kiss the back of Charles' head while he massaged one cheek of the kid's bottom slowly, letting the tip of his thumb work its way into the cleft until it was a felt presence in the entryway. As that happened, Greg's kisses slowly moved down across Charles' shoulders, further down along the velvety warmth of his spine, until my new-met partner was separating the cheeks of our little friend's rump.

I couldn't see Greg's tongue slide into place there, but Charles raised his head suddenly, his eyes going wide, his face flushing with surprise and embarrassment. Helplessly, he looked up at me, wondering what he should do.

I smiled at him reassuringly (I hope), and keeping my weight on my left elbow I ran the fingers of my right hand through his hair and then caught Charles under the chin to look into his eyes.

"Just for you, baby," I murmured. "Only for you."

"Oh, man!" the boy hissed. "Isn't that, d-dirty?" Then he winced, shuddering. My guess is that it was the first time he'd ever felt a tongue slide into his bottom. His shame was so overpowering that he closed his eyes and put his head down against my groin, still holding the root of my cock in his hand, breathing in the smell of my body, groaning softly.

"Not dirty at all, kid." I cuddled his head against my crotch. "Just the flavor of beautiful little boy."

When he looked up at me, Charles had tears in his eyes. "This is so weird!" he whispered. "What if I gotta fart or something?"

I chuckled almost soundlessly. "Just go with it, okay? He's done this before. So have I. There aren't going to be any nasty surprises for either of us. Nothing that happens is your fault, and we know it. He's loving you, understand? Just like you were loving his cock."

"And, and yours?" He gave the shaft of my fuckpiece a little squeeze.

I nodded. "Yeah. And did I say thank-you yet?"

A small smile from the boy, then a little shift, as if he was suppressing the urge to look over his shoulder. "H-how come he's doing that to my bottom?" said the kid in a low voice.

I shrugged. "It's what a man does to get a kid ready to take a cock up inside himself." Then I held him down to keep him from jumping up. "Easy!"

"I didn't know that you guys wanted to do that to me!"

"You know about doing it, don't you?"

He nodded, blushing furiously, then squeezing his eyes shut with a groan as Greg obviously did some special tongue action down there.

"So what do you think you know?" I asked.

"Hunh?" Charles blinked up at me. "They said that it hurts!" He was still keeping his voice low, almost as if he thought Greg couldn't hear him. "That it was something only a, a faggot likes to do." A grim glare. "I'm not a faggot, Mister!"

I rumpled the boy's hair. "Of course you're not! You think we'd like you if you were some kind of a fag? Never!"

I wasn't lying, either. I hadn't sounded Greg out yet, of course, but I sure as hell don't find anything attractive about mincing little fairies. Oh, I'll fuck a kid who swishes when he walks; who wouldn't? But for preference, I'll always take a real boy. The 'girlie' ones are downers.

"He's not gonna do me in my b-bottom," the kid protested. "Not ever!"

I gave him the old thoughtful look, and then shook my head just slightly. "Yeah, maybe you're not strong enough yet. How old are you, anyway, Charles?"

"Huh?" Again he closed his eyes, shuddering. After a moment: "I, I'm almost ten."

"Yeah? So when's your birthday?"

He named a date a bit more than two months away.

I shook my head again. "Well, you're old enough," I replied. "Lots of kids your age do it. Maybe you're just not brave enough…?"

Charles glared up at me. "I am, too!"

Again I caressed his hair, running my fingertips over the curve of one ear. "It's okay, little guy. Getting a grown-up cock inside you is kinda scary. I was scared the first time a guy did it to me."

A look of doubt in Charles' expression. "H-how old were you when, uh…?"

"Oh, I was only eight," I replied truthfully. "But I was always a big kid. Not as big as you are right now, but big enough."

"D-did the guy hurt you?"

I nodded. "Sure did. At first it always hurts, coming into you, stretching you. But not as bad as lots of other stuff, and the hurting goes away pretty quick as you get used to it." I smiled. "I got to liking it real fast. For a boy, it's a pretty strong feeling, a man's big cock pushing up inside you, and then sliding in and out." I sighed. "But if you're too scared…"

"But it hurts…"

"Yeah," I agreed. Greg just kept working away down there, his thumbs kneading Charles' now-very-relaxed little bottom, licking down the fold of perineum to the back of the boy's ballsac then bearing down on Charles' anus again. "Maybe more than you can take if you have some other guy do it with you."

The boy blinked up at me. "You know how to do it so it, it's not so bad?"

"Sure," I said. "What, you think we like hurting a nice little kid like you? There's ways to ease it in the first couple of times you do a boy. Stretch it some first, with plenty of saliva to keep it slippery. Slow and steady. Takes a little time, but it always works." I frowned. "What you have to worry about is some jerk of man who doesn't know how to do anything but just shove it in. I wasn't as lucky as you are, my first time."

"You got hurt?"

Again with the thoughtful look, then I shook my head. "Not 'hurt' hurt. Not any – you know – damage or anything like that. An eight-year-old can take a grown-up cock okay. He was just too fast. The man didn't let me get used to it before he started doing the in-and-out. It got better pretty quick, though."

I fixed him with a frown. "Look, you really don't want to get a penis in your bottom for the first time with a grown-up who never had it done to him as a kid. A man's got to know what it's like for a little guy if he's going to do it right. Later, when you're used to it, you can do with any big kid or grown-up you want, no big deal."

Again Charles closed his eyes and groaned softly. "Oh, man, that feels so nice!"

I smiled at him when he looked back up at me. "It's supposed to feel nice. I don't know any kids who don't like getting this done to them. You don't usually get a tickle-bone with it, so a guy can go on doing it to you for a long time, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper inside you. Feel it stretching you open?"

The boy nodded, his head pillowed on my groin again. "I feel really open," he informed me. "It's so weird!"

"Yeah, well, it's one of the ways a guy gets a kid like you ready for his penis there," I reminded him. "Gets you all relaxed inside, and it kind of lets you know how good it's going to feel when you get a big cock up inside you."

"Huh?" Charles lifted his head a little. "But you said it hurts."

"Oh, sure," I replied. "But it's a 'hurts real good' kind of hurting. A 'fill-you-up' feeling that rubs you inside in a really sexy way." I grinned. "There's a little button of flesh just inside your bottom, deep down at the root of your dickie, that a man's big cock slides along when it gets into you, and as your man's penis goes in and out, there's all kinds of good feelings for you." I shrugged. "I've had boys get their tickle-bones just from having me work my cock in and out of their bottoms."

I felt him testing the width and hardness of my cock, slowly moving his hand up and down as he stared at it. His voice was low and dreamy. "Does it take a long time to do your thing inside me?"

"We've got plenty of time, Charles."

He glanced up at my face. "Are you both gonna do it?"

I nodded. "We'll try."

He thought for a moment, then he nodded his head. "Okay," he said. "Let's try it."

Greg sat up and so did Charles, smiling at Greg shyly, unable to think of what to say to a man who'd been doing that to your bottom.

"We've got to stretch you some more," Greg said. "Just a little bit, but it's important, understand."

A bit confused, Charles shook his head. "How come?"

Greg gathered the boy into his lap, cradling Charles' head on one arm while looking down into his eyes. "Because we don't want to hurt you. If you get opened up too fast, the skin down there might not 'give' the way it ought to, and you'll have a skin tear."

"It's like a muscle pull in sports," I put in. "You ever do warming-up exercises in PE class? That stretches your arms and legs and everything so that when you get moving you don't sprain or strain anything."

Greg nodded. "Some people have problems when they use the toilet, for Number Two. You probably never did, but no matter what the age, boys or girls, they can have really hard stools, wider than they can get out without a lot of pushing. When did you sit on the pot last?"

Charles blushed a little, reluctant to speak.

"Look," I said, "we're not going to tell anybody about anything you tell us, and we're not going to laugh at you. All of this is 'under the rose.' That means 'secret,' just for us three. It's not gross to us, it's not embarrassing. We like you, and we don't want you to get hurt in any way. You understand?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay," continued Greg. "So when did you sit on the pot last?"

"Uh, this morning. After I ate breakfast, I think."

"Do you sit on the pot at least once a day?"

Charles' brow furrowed. "Yeah. At least. Maybe two times a day, most days."

"Are they really hard, so hard that they hurt, or do you just go and don't think much about it."

The boy's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I get it! A couple of years ago, I had real trouble. I got a cold, and a fever, and I didn't go for, like, days! When I did, maybe two times it was really nasty. I had to push like crazy, and it was so bad I cried afterwards."

"Yep." Greg nodded. "Lots of kids have that problem when they run high temperatures. The stuff inside you dries out and gets really hard. Grown-ups have that happen to them, too. But you haven't been having it happen for a long time, right?"

"Nope."

"Okay," Greg said. "First you're going to get stretched, slowly and gently. Then we're going to do our cocks up inside you. Okay?"

An uncertain nod. "H-how do I get stretched."

I got his attention and held up my right index finger. "Very carefully," I said.

Charles glowered. "I had a doctor do that to me. I hated it!"

"Doctors do it to examine you all the way inside," said Greg. "Not to stretch you, but to feel around inside for infections and things like that." He chuckled a bit. "I'm fully grown, and I hate it when a doctor has to do that to me. Your body changes when you grow up to be a man, and there are parts inside you that have to be checked regularly. Doctor-type poking around in there is no fun for grown-ups, either."

That got a laugh out of the boy. "Nobody ever told me that."

I shrugged. "Most grown-ups don't tell kids anything. I think they get too embarrassed."

A puzzled look again from the boy. "How come you don't?"

It was Greg's turn to shrug. "We like boys. We know that kids like you aren't stupid, or too young to learn this kind of stuff. We don't get embarrassed because this is the sort of thing a boy like you should know about. You need it. It's your body, right?"

Charles hesitated. "You guys ought to be teachers," he said. "School wouldn't be so stupid if we had teachers like you two."

Greg gave the boy a hug. "If all the kids were like you, I'd want to be a teacher, too. But there's so many who are just dumb as a bagful of bricks, aren't there?"

The kid grinned a little, nodding. Then: "But you're gonna stretch me… down there… with your fingers?" He studied my cock; he was snugged up too close on Greg's lap to get his fuckpole in perspective. "That's a lot thicker than your finger!"

"There's a technique to it," I qualified. "You don't go deep, and you stretch the opening. That opening is made of muscle, a circular muscle. Just the way you stretch your legs and arms in PE class, or when you have a cramp, that circular muscle can be stretched until it relaxes to let a man's cock go up inside you."

"C-could I do it for myself?"

"Sure," said Greg. "But it's like rubbing out a cramp. It works better if somebody else does it for you." He smiled. "Besides, I enjoy stretching a little guy like you open." He leaned over and kissed the tip of Charles' nose. "I'm really good at it."

The kid smiled back. "You're just weird, mister!"

That got a chuckle out of Greg. "Sure. I'm weird for boys like you." He nodded at me. "Him, too. Speaking of 'him'…" he spoke to me "… could you please get me a couple of things from that box over there?"

He indicated a cardboard box on the floor, bungee'd to the back of the driver's seat. "Sure."

"That tube of A&D and a clean shop towel, okay?"

I fetched them, holding up the tube of diaper cream, one eyebrow lifted.

"It's good stuff," said Greg. "Not much you can keep around that's better for treating a case of sunburn, and it washes off pretty good with soap and water."

Looking up from where he was cuddled against Greg's chest, Charles giggled. "I haven't got sunburn down there!" he observed.

Still cradling Charles with his left arm, Greg drew up both of the boy's knees to fold the naked young body comfortably into position. Instinctively, the kid used his hands to hold his thighs flexed. Greg held up his right index and middle fingers, I squeezed a generous dollop of the thick white cream onto his fingertips, and then got the boy's left leg in my hands, drawing it to the side, out of the way. Greg brought his hand down between Charles' bottom cheeks and he fingertips into the entrance.

"Ooh!" Charles started as he felt the fingers slide into place. His eyes were wide with anxiety as he looked up at Greg's face.

"Easy, kid," said Greg reassuringly. He worked his fingertips around and around, letting the boy get used to the sensation, poking in a little with one fingertip, then the other. "You're doing fine. Just take a deep breath… yeah, like that… now let it out slowly… just feel it going in… yeah! And then out… and in… and out…"

I could see the boy calming down. The motion of Greg's hand was gentle but continuous, establishing a rhythm as natural as Charles' own breathing. The youngster's body was folded up snug, and his little pecker twitched hard, so stiff with his excitement that the tip of it brushed against the kid's belly with each beat of his heart.

Greg kept his hand shifting, the fingertips sliding into the opening, then drawing not quite out, circling, stretching, pushing bit by bit further up inside the pretty little boy's naked vulnerability, Charles gasping a little, groaning, blushing, wincing, glancing back and forth at Greg's face and mine, feeling the fingers going into him together now, twisting and shifting, scissoring slowly back and forth inside his body, painful but not too bad, all three of us speechless in the sharing of Charles new experience, so familiar to Greg and I.

I've seen porn vids in which boys like Charles got through this kind of treatment – including full-out assfucking – without so much as popping a boner, but I've never run into a real, live kid who didn't respond the way little Charles was showing us, his hairless dick stiff as the proverbial tenpenny nail. Say what you like about assplay, but when it's done right, it's sexy, and little boys can't help but go with it.

Maybe it was the fact that back in the '70s – when most of those porn vids were made – it took a film crew to do it. With enough people looking at you, giving orders, fiddling with the lights, I think it's something of a miracle that anybody could get and keep a hard-on, even the older kids and men who were doing the fucking.

Doing it slowly, his eyes on Charles' face to make sure the boy was good with it, Greg was working two fingers all the way up inside, in and out, around and around.

"How's that?" he asked.

Charles' face was flushed, but he hadn't let go of his legs, keeping them tucked up and spread apart. "It, it's okay," he said in a low voice. "Not as bad as when the doctor did it with just one finger." He frowned, obviously confused. "How come he didn't do it like this?"

I smiled. "Two reasons. First, because it takes time, and he had other stuff to do. Second, because what we're doing is supposed to make a boy feel good, and want more of it. Doctors are afraid to do anything like this that might make a kid feel good. Might get 'em arrested as child molesters."

At that, Charles grinned up at me. "Yeah, like you guys!"

"What? You want us arrested?" Greg put a hurt sound in his voice, but kept up the rhythm of Charles' penetration.

The boy looked down and away in an unconscious betrayal of shame that obviously wasn't the result of a grown-up's fingers circling and scissoring inside his bottom. "No, of course not." He blinked up at Greg. "I like you guys. You're really nice."

I leaned over and kissed the kid lightly. "And we like you, too."

Charles gave a pleased little wriggle, and then gasped as Greg put three fingertips together and tucked them into the boy's anus, gently but firmly.

"Ooch, that's tight!" the kid informed us. He craned his neck to look down between his legs. "G-go in further, okay? But do it slow!"

"Slow ahead," replied Greg. "Aye-aye."

He got them in to the second knuckles and then held it there, gently twisting back and forth. "If I push in much further," Greg announced, " I'm going to be the one who's hurting. You've got a nice, snug little muscle here, kiddo!"

Charles grimaced a bit, but nodded. "Y-yeah. Ooh! Keep doing that, okay? Just back and forth, you know?" He thought for a moment. "I guess I'm ready for you to do your dicks inside me now."

Greg nodded. "So which of us do you want first?"

The boy looked from me to Greg and then back to me again. "Your thing is a little bit smaller, sir. Not a lot, but I could tell it isn't as thick as Greg's. So maybe you ought to do me first."

If Greg was disappointed about not getting to bust Charles' cherry, he didn't show it.

I looked at Greg. "We got any pillows or pads or such?"

He grinned, nodded toward a big blanket-wrapped bundle bungee-corded to the rear on the driver's side, and I got it open. Great! Two of those big wedge-shaped corduroy-covered things with the little arm rests, the most obviously made-to-be-fuck-pillows in the history of upholstery. Also more blankets and a pillowcase in which (I peeped) there were a number of neatly coiled short lengths of thick woven cotton clothesline.

"You sleep out back here much?" I asked, mock-innocently.

"Sure," Greg replied. "It's not safe, driving when you're sleep-deprived. A little power-nap in the back here, and I'm good to go."

Charles had shifted a little in Greg's lap to check out what I was doing. "Hey, we got pillows like that at home," he said. "I use 'em for watching TV and stuff. Ooh, yeah!" He looked back up at Greg. "Slow, okay? Do you think I'm stretched enough yet?"

"Just about," the man replied. He slid his fingers out, and used the shop towel to wipe the ointment off his hand. I could tell he was checking for evidence of bleeding, and Greg glanced a me with a little headshake. Good to go.

Charles got out of Greg's lap, regarding him fondly, to kneel on the padding and look at me a bit dubiously. "H-how d'you want to do this?"

I frowned. "Well, I don't want to leave Greg out while you and I have our fun. How about if I set it up so you can play with his dick, maybe suck it a little, while you get me up inside you? Put one of those pillows against the back doors – yeah, right in the middle – and now lean Greg back against it."

The boy took the top pillow and did as I'd recommended, then he beckoned my companion over to park him comfortably against it. Grinning up at his fellow molester, Charles took careful hold of Greg's big cock and worked it a little.

"Boy, you got an extra lot of skin on your dick, mister!"

"I'm not circumcised, Charles. We call it being uncut. You were cut there when you were a baby. See the difference?"

Charles glanced down at his own stiffie, then back up at Greg's face. "They cut me on my penis? You mean like having your tonsils out?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning close over the boy. "Or your appendix. It's no big deal. Lots of guys are cut." I reached around and caressed his little prick, making Charles moan softly and close his eyes for a moment. "But your penis works just fine, doesn't it?"

"There's a couple of guys in my neighborhood who've got the extra skin on their dickies," he said thoughtfully. He flashed me a grin over his shoulder. "We call 'em 'anteaters.'"

Greg laughed. "I've heard that before!"

The bottom pillow (as I'd noted) was older, more crushed-down, than the top one, and I positioned it, 'belly-down', in front of Greg and between his spread-apart feet, the top of it closest to him. I then grabbed Charles at the waist from behind and picked him up easily to plop his middle down on the older pillow, arching his bottom up at a suitable angle.

The momentarily surprised boy looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. Being ass-up was funny, even when you were being readied to get a grown-up man's cock up your butt.

"Get yourself where you can suck Greg's dick," I urged. "You want to be comfortable, right?"

Charles looked up at Greg, turned again over his shoulder, and nodded before reaching down with both hands to grab the tough material at the top of the pillow and, raising himself up on his knees, skootched it up and skootched it up, moving with it in a kind of worm-crawl to get his face over the man's crotch, and without much hesitation Charles took the head of that glistening grown-up cock into his mouth.

Meanwhile, I'd been applying the A&D to the shaft of my fuckpiece. Not the head of it, which I left lubricated by nothing more than my seeping clear pre-cum, but the shaft. I'd learned a long time ago that when the kid is greased, you do not lube the tip of your dick. That tends to make the damned thing slip all over the place as you try to get it seated in a little boy's asshole. You need some traction.

Kneeling between Charles' legs, my left hand on his bottom just where the cheeks begin to divide and my right hand guiding my rod, I got some traction, making Charles' head jerk up and he un-mouthed Greg's cock as he looked back over his shoulder at me, astonishment on his face.

Yeah, kid, I thought. It really does feel bigger when you get it shoved up against your bunny hole.

"I'm going to push it in you just a little, then back off. I'll do it a couple of times, working it inside kinda gradually, to get you used to it. Got that?"

Charles nodded, his eyes still wide, and then he closed them as he felt me push the blunt living weight of my cock spreading him open for the very first time, whimpering softly, pillowing his head on Greg's left thigh, his fingers and thumb firm on the shaft of the man's big dick. One of Greg's hands was a firm comfort on the boy's shoulder, the other running fingertips slowly through Charles' hair.

I pulled back, and then put it in again, gaining just a little ground. Out again, then in, this time with a bit more determination and Charles gave a startled yelp as he felt the silent 'pop' of a grown man's cockhead jumping over the threshold to seat firmly just inside his tight young ring of muscle.

"I'm in you," I advised with brilliant superfluity.

"Jeez, it feels huge!" Charles gave me yet another look over his shoulder. "Like you put your fist or something in me!"

I had to chuckle at that. "Thanks, but it's still just my dick. You're really warm inside, and tight! When you're a teenager, you're gonna love doing this to little kids."

"P-probably!" the child hissed. "But right now, you're the one doing it to me!"

"Yeah," said Greg, and the boy turned to look up at him. "And now he's going to work it all the way up inside you, every bit of it, whether you're ready or not."

Charles answer was a soft groan of anxiety. "But it's so big!"

"It won't bust you," Greg said. "You're a strong kid. You can take it, and it's already starting to feel good inside you, isn't it?"

The boy hesitated, glanced back at me, looked up at Greg. "I-I guess."

"Okay," continued Greg. Now, how about getting back to sucking my cock?" With gentle strength, he drew the child's head down a little, pressing Charles' nose against the tip of his big fuckpiece. "C'mon," the man urged. "You know I wanna see you do it."

I pushed a little bit further into the kid's bottom, making him flinch, and he put his forehead down against the side of Greg's cock, nuzzling the loose ballsac for a moment and then lifting his head, eyes closed, to guide the tip of the man's sex back into his mouth, moving up and down on it slowly.

I timed my deepening thrusts – ever so small but mercilessly persistent – with Charles' fellation of Greg. Every time he went down, I pushed in; every time he came up, I slid back a bit. He got it right away, and moaned at the realization. Sucking Greg was getting him fucked.

But he had to suck Greg. Right then, right there, sucking that grown-up penis was more necessary than breathing. Charles had never sucked a grown man's cock before, but he'd sure as hell thought about it, what it would taste like, what it would do to the guy he was sucking, He'd loved the feel of those big things in his hands when he'd had those other men before, but he hadn't been able to make himself go down on them no matter how much they'd promised to pay him.

None of the kids Charles knew had ever admitted to doing a grown-up this way, even though they'd talked about it, and how gross it would be for a man to come sperms in a guy's mouth, not just the little bit of juice you got when some of the older kids let you suck them.

Now every time he did the sucking, the man behind him was putting his penis deeper and deeper into Charles' bottom, holding him by the hips to keep him from getting away, mashing Charles' own stiffie against the big pillow underneath, hurting him.

But the hurt was so nice! Did guys actually like getting hurt this way, in their bottoms? Charles thought that he was doing this to make Dave feel good – and that was a nice thing to do for somebody as sexy and strong and handsome as Dave – but was this really supposed to be sexy for the guy who got his butt fucked?

Am I a homo? the boy thought, pausing with Greg's cock just between his lips and his teeth, biting down just a teensy bit on the smooth, domed head of it – and Dave's penis just inside the muscle down there, ready to slide back down inside him.

Who cares? he decided. I'm just like any other kid, a real horn-dog!

And as he slid Greg's cock back into his mouth and gave it good tongue-action, he groaned at the sensation of Dave's dick pushing, nice and slippery, really deep this time, hitting something inside him that made him jump a little, not in pain but with almost the kind of sensation you got when you got a tickle-bone! What the aitch-ee-double-hockeysticks was that?

Up on Greg's penis, then down again, and down below… Wow! That was even better!

He felt Greg's hands lifting his head up, off the big cock, and he looked up at the man, puzzled.

"Let it go for a bit, baby," said Greg in a low voice. "If you keep it up, I'm gonna pop." The fingers went through Charles hair again, brushing it back a little. "Besides, it's time for you to focus on what's going on inside you." Greg glanced up at Dave, and the other man pushed down into Charles' bottom slowly but harder now, and that made Charles jump a little, wincing, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment.

When he looked up again at Greg, the man's fingertips caressing the boy's face, the only thing the boy could see was how much this intimate stranger liked him. Not just for the sex, but because Greg really loved seeing Charles like this, a boy feeling Dave's penis sliding in and out of his tight little bottom, learning about how a guy could get done by a grown-up who knew the proper way to fuck a little kid.

Like most guys his age, Charles had never really liked any grown-ups. Oh, he loved his parents and his uncles and his aunts and his grandparents, but none of them really seemed to like him, and he didn't like them, either. These two grown-up men, though…

They like me, he thought. They don't have to take care of me, they don't have to teach me, they just like me. Charles winced as he felt Dave's cock seat itself all the way up inside his bottom at last, the tangled curls of dark hair around the base of the man's penis pressed firmly against his backside, almost like the seat of his bike when he was riding it.

Except Dave's riding ME! thought the boy exultantly, and it almost made him giggle. His own little dickie was painfully but pleasurably squeezed between his belly and the pillow, rubbing a little up and down along the grooved corduroy cloth as the fucking motion moved his whole naked body back and forth. Charles didn't try to adjust it, sensing that the 'hurt-feels-good' in his front was a proper part of what was going on in his behind. It seemed to make the gaspingly good feeling at the root of his dick and his balls go even better when Dave drove his cock down on that weird spot inside him, making him grit his teeth and hiss with surprise no matter how many times it happened to him.

He knew that he had a tickle-bone coming, but when? It seemed that it had never taken Charles so long to make an orgasm happen, even when he was just fooling around with his dickie in the minutes before falling asleep in his bed at night. Whatever Dave was doing, he was drawing out the process for so long, making it build up and up and up…

Jeez, when he finally makes me pop, it's gonna KILL me!

And realizing that, Charles was for the first time that afternoon really afraid. Could a guy die from getting sexed like this? Should he reach underneath to grab his dickie and play with it to make it happen right away? Oooh, Dave's cock was shoving so nice in him, back and forth, in and out, still hurting, but a guy could take that kind of hurt all day, all week…

No, Charles decided. I'll let Dave do it his way. The boy kept his hands still, his head tucked into the fold between Greg's balls and his left thigh, one set of fingers wrapped around the root of Greg's penis, breathing in the scent of the man's body, jumping a little every time the cock inside him bottomed out, wondering how the heck Dave could do this for so long.

If it was me putting my dick inside a kid, he realized, I woulda blown up completely HOURS ago!

Well, I was surely getting there. Unreasonably, though, I wanted to fuck little Charles to a climax before I gave up my load inside his butt. I could tell he was teetering on the brink, but he wasn't quite there yet.

Then I figured – what the hell – and I flexed all the way over and kissed the little boy lightly on the ear, then on the corner of his eyebrow as I shoved my dick all the way into him.

That did it! Charles gave up a choked cry of distress and began to buck, his hot little backdoor muscles clamping down and yielding, tightening and giving, the contractions communicating the boy's acknowledgement of perfect assfuck orgasm as I held his shoulders down and pounded myself into his body, spilling my cum deep within the boy's rectum in tribute to his wonderful innocent sexiness.

Those moments seem to go on forever, even though they never go on long enough. Charles didn't quit cumming until maybe a half a minute after I'd quit squirting, but I kept up the in-and-out, much more slowly, of course, for a good two or three minutes after he'd finished his own dance with the Little Death, feeling his trembling shudders.

Greg kept quiet, respecting the passion. I folded myself down again and kissed the boy's brow.

"God, that was great," I murmured. "Are you okay, kid?"

Brokenly, the shuteyed little boy nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. "I'm okay."

"Want me to take it out?"

"Uh?" He blinked, turned his head just enough to look up at me. "N-no, you can keep it in me." A little smile. "Feels kinda good, y'know?"

Greg's chuckle rumbled as he got his fingers into the boy's hair again, caressing. "Yeah. All that trouble getting it inside you, it's like you don't want to just chuck it away."

Charles had put his head back onto Greg's thigh, and he nodded against it. "It's weird, but you'd kinda think it belongs in there." He peeped through half-open lids at his comforter. "Dumb, isn't it?"

"Not one little bit," replied Greg. "In a lot of ways, it does belong inside you. It's how boys like you make a connection with grown-up men, how you'll connect with other boys who need you, when you're grown up."

I felt the child shift a little, side to side, and heard him giggle.

"Dave's getting soft," he murmured. "You gotta come out yet, Dave?"

"Not that I want to," I responded regretfully. Looking down, I guided my satisfied schwanz slowly out of Charles' bottom, thumb-spreading the smooth young buttcheeks to check his glistening, cream-smeared pucker. It gaped a little, and it was a bit reddened, but it closed down nicely right before my eyes.

"Beautiful," I reported.

"Y-your dickie or my bottie?" asked the child, impudence in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at me.

I slapped his little ass to make him flinch, but he giggled. "Your bunny-hole," I growled. "Like you didn't know."

"We always worry about hurting you kids," said Greg. "A little pain makes the sex stronger for you, but we never want to do real damage."

Charles nodded understanding. "You guys are special nice," he said appreciatively. The boy got up on hands and knees, twisted a little to perch his right rump on the fuck pillow. "I'm kinda slippery down there. You got anything for me to wipe with?"

I looked at the shop towel and frowned. Awfully rough…

Greg laughed. Check in the box again. There's a container of baby wipes."

I grinned as I made a long arm to rummage in the box, partly at the scowl on Charles' face. "I'm not a baby!"

"Hush-a-bye," I said, coming back with the container and popping it open. "Over on your belly again, and I'll get this done."

Wincing and gasping a little, Charles let me clean him up. There wasn't really much mess, as I'd delivered my load every damned millimeter of the length of my cock up inside him, but I wanted him to feel comfortable. The used wipes went into the trash bag (as I was learning, Greg is a planner), and I helped the boy sit up again, perched squarely on the pillow to face Greg.

"My turn now," the man said, smiling. If Charles had gone soft at all – and I didn't remember seeing that he had – his little pecker was sitting up and begging when he heard that. Greg tucked his left heel up under his right buttcheek, and drew Charles up to sit on his left thigh, holding him close. He looked down into the boy's face, which was a bit sweaty and drawn.

"Are you tired, little guy?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Too tired to get me up inside you now?"

Charles shook his head. "No, sir." He looked down, took Greg's cock in his hand, played with it slowly, looked up. "You gotta do me, too. I know that. Fair is fair."

Greg bent down a bit and kissed Charles on the forehead, then went further down over the boy's eyelids and across his cheeks before settling on Charles' lips. I heard the soft moan of the child's surprise, watching him surrender to the first really 'romantic' kiss in all his little life, and it was fitting somehow that Greg was the one to give him that experience. Charles was learning that things weren't the way he saw in the movies, where men only kissed women, and little boys didn't get sexy kisses at all.

The funny thing was that even though he wasn't struggling, Charles wasn't actively participating, either. He just sat there in Greg's lap, his arms at his sides, one hand on Greg's cock, the other on the man's knee, his head back, his face turned up, loving the way he was being cuddled and held and giving himself up to this handsome stranger.

Slowly, with visible reluctance, Greg moved Charles away, putting the boy down on the same fuck pillow I'd used, resting the handsome young head on the thickest part of it, leaving the child belly-up, his slender legs parted, gazing up at Greg from under half-lowered eyelids with his hands palm-up on the corduroy cloth, either side of his head, as the man shifted, kneeling close before him. Charles was content to let Greg take him by the hips and raise up the boy's middle to bring the child's anus down perfectly on the tip of Greg's unlubed cock, thicker and longer than mine.

The boy's eyes widened and he gasped as he felt himself settled on the big fuckpiece, sliding between his bottom cheeks and into the already-twice-opened crater that no longer offered even the illusion of defense for his violated young body. The thick dome of hard manflesh was seated inescapably, and he felt it coming into him in that first tiny increment to find the heat of Charles' body. At that instant Charles responded feebly, his arms coming up just a bit, almost as if he was trying to protest as he sensed it shoving up just that necessary bit to punch it past the ring of guardian muscle and truly into him.

Then he let his hands fall back again in a sign of perfect surrender.

Then Charles jumped at the pain of it spreading him wider, baring his teeth in acknowledgement of the hurt it inflicted upon him, almost trying to get away, but he was held, controlled by the big strong hands of his rapist. He didn't beg, didn't struggle. Now he knew what his bottom was for, how a boy had to serve the sex of a grown-up man. This was right. This was what he'd agreed to. This was what Charles needed, what he deserved.

Neither of them said a word as they shared their experience, the boy's eyes locked on the face of the man who was fucking him, somehow knowing that he was looking into the soul of this grown-up stranger, and completely consumed by the idea that someone could do something like this – something so nasty, so forbidden, so intimate and loving – to a naked little boy he'd only just met.

Gasping with each gentle thrust of Greg's cock as it inched further and further up inside his body, Charles proved why little boys are the best fucktoys in the world. Being male himself, the kid had a better understanding than any woman or girl how good this felt for the man who was fucking him, and being a child – little and weak and helpless – Charles could give himself up completely to the power of a grown-up man without any sense of guilt or disgrace.

Here he was, totally naked, with not one but two evil child molesters holding him captive for all this mean-awful-horrible-pervy sex. It's not like he wanted to do this homo stuff, right? Ooh, but that big dickie was filling him all the way up! It was almost like he couldn't breathe!

Gosh, these grown-ups could kill him with the sex – like the teachers talked kinda sideways about kids getting raped and killed in the S.C.A.R.E. classes – and just dump his body in the woods, and nobody would find him until there was nothing left but bones and whatever else the ants didn't want to eat. Terrifying! Sexy!

Each child is a masochist in his heart of hearts.

Charles felt Greg's cock go all the way home inside his bottom, the crinkly hairs pressing hard against his little balls, not tickling or scratching but the way Charles instantly knew they should feel, the right kind of feeling for a little boy who was being used by a grown-up man for sex. His stiffie was harder than ever from the pressure of the big thing working up against the 'button' Dave had told him about, and if he hadn't already had a tickle-bone from Dave doing him, Charles knew that he would have had to have one by now.

He was pretty sure that Greg was going to make him have the good feelings again. He'd never known it was possible for a guy to have a tickle-bone – a really good one! – without even touching your boner, just from having a grown-up penis going in and out of your butt. Amazing!

Charles groaned.

"Okay, little guy?"

The boy looked up at Greg. "Y-yeah, I'm good. Ooh! Your thing feels different from Dave's. Is it 'cause you're doing me like a, a baby?"

The man chuckled. "You mean like diapering a baby? Is that what you think this is?"

Charles felt himself blushing, and glanced away for an instant, smiling his embarrassment. "That's kinda what it's like, isn't it?" He looked back up at Greg. "The way a mommy lays a baby out to do that, I mean. D-Dave did it like he was giving me a massage."

"Yeah, very relaxing, wasn't it?" Greg shifted, leaning forward to put his elbows on the pillow, so that Charles' hips were flexed a bit more, his little stiffie bumping against the boy's belly, the man's torso now poised over Charles' chest and head, making the child suddenly feel sheltered and warm and protected. Even though the man's hands weren't holding his hips any more, Charles knew that his bottom wasn't going anywhere with that big cock shoved all the way up inside him.

He was even more helpless as well, but that was pretty nice, too.

"I can't get away from you now," said Charles in a small voice, blinking up at his captor.

Greg frowned. "Do you want to get away, little guy?"

He got a slight headshake from the kid. "N-not really, I guess." Charles sighed. "It wouldn't be fair for me to get away until you put your sperms inside me." A pause. "How come you guys want to put sperms inside a boy? I can't get pregnant, y'know!"

The man laughed, and Charles felt fingertips moving slowly in his sandy, boy-scented hair, caressing him.

"The sperm," Greg explained, "comes out of a guy's cock when he feels the most powerful kinds of sexual sensations a man can experience. You've seen other grown-ups squirt their sperm before, haven't you?"

Charles nodded. The thick prod in his bottom keep moving slowly, in teasing little shifts of Greg's body, but comfortably, a reassuring sensation telling a little boy that he was where a little guy was supposed to be.

"When they jerked off with me," he said, "and a couple of times when I got to play with their things until they popped." The boy's nose wrinkled with remembered distaste. "I thought it was, like, pee, y'know? But they explained it to me." He shuddered as he felt Greg shift again and begin working the big cock back and forth more emphatically, a piston of thick manflesh sliding assertively now inside him.

"Ooh, you're fucking me!" Charles blinked up at his possessor. "You're going to make your sperms go inside me, just like Dave did."

"Yeah." Greg said. "It's called 'sloppy seconds.'" Then he smiled. "Though there's nothing sloppy about a beautiful little boy like you."

"Is it, uh, better to do your sperms inside a kid? Instead of having him jerk you off, I mean?"

Greg groaned. "Yeah!" He kept up a slow long-dicking rhythm, but I could tell that – like me – he'd had little boys carrying on conversations like this even with a man's cock working in and out of their asses. Kids! "Sometimes it's nice to bust a nut on a cute little guy like you, to squirt your cum all over his pecker and his belly, and it's specially nice to cum on his face."

"In my face?" the boy yelped as Greg seated his fuckpole in the still-tight young ass with a quick little extra shove. Charles looked up at him anxiously. "W-why would you want to put your sperms on my face?"

Charles felt Greg's fingertips range over his face, delicately but possessively.

"Because your face is so beautiful, little guy. Because a man likes to see you take his cum on your eyelids" – a caress – "your cute little nose" – a touch – "your cheeks and your lips and your – chin" – all the while continuing to fuck the boy – "so that you have to feel it" – another thrust, harder this time! – "and smell it" – an emphatic shove of mancock in boy-ass – "and taste it, his own special essence-of-man, hot and fresh from his body, making you know how much you turn him on, how much he wants you to be his boy, because he wants to own you, all of you, from the tips of your toes to the tip of your nose…"

The boy had long since gotten his heels behind Greg's thighs, unconsciously embracing his captor, using the strength of his slender young legs to pull the man down to him, knowing only how much he wanted Greg inside his bottom, the big penis doing him in there, sensing the good feelings building stronger and stronger as he gazed up at the broad chest and the muscular neck and the handsome face of the grown-up who was fucking him.

He wondered if Greg would want to fuck a lady like this, a woman his own size instead of a dumb little kid, and that made Charles feel a little sick. Oh, that penis was so good inside him! What did the big guys see in the ladies that made them so horny? Those big boobies, like water balloons with a giant wart in the middle? Yuck! He looked at Greg's chest, all full of muscles and handsome, then up at Greg's face again.

No, Greg wouldn't want to do the fucking to any ladies. Greg wanted a boy, like Charles, a boy with a pecker and balls and a bottom that was tight and warm for taking his big penis. And Charles was a boy – oh, wow, that went in deep! – who knew how it felt to have the good feelings – again! and he was doing it faster, ouch! – yeah, like that! Again! Do it again! Oh, man!

Little Charles kept his hands limp on the pillow alongside his head as he gave in to his climax, the whole lower half of his body shoving up against Greg's groin to impale himself on the guy's cock, digging his heels in like a bronco rider with his every whimper of lust. It seemed as if he was crying in frustration at the fact that the big fuckpole wasn't longer and wider and thicker.

For the second time that day, Charles got assfucked all the way to orgasm.

Do I need to tell anybody what that did to Greg? Poor bastard practically blew a blood vessel filling that little ass with his cum.

I sat there in dumb admiration as the pair of them held on in the aftermath, neither of them wanting to let go, panting, sharing shudders of sensation so intense as to be painful, Charles still keeping his hands lax, as if moving them could break some kind of magical spell.

Finally, regretfully, they uncoupled, Greg's fuckpiece – still only semi-soft – slid smoothly out of the boy's anus and he leaned over to kiss the child, long and lovingly.

I'm the practical type, I guess. I handed Greg a baby wipe to swab off his dick and shifted Charles around, keeping him on his back as I cleaned him up, tenderly getting the diaper cream off his bottom with another wipe and then using one of the witch hazel towelettes I'd also found in Greg's box of conveniences. The boy gasped when I did that, but relaxed almost instantly as the sensation (and the familiar scent, no doubt) soothed him. He grinned a little at the way I was treating him, but he didn't object.

I was about to help the kid get dressed when I asked: "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

Charles blinked. "You mean number-two?" He blushed. "I, I dunno. I kinda feel funny down there, but I don't think I gotta go."

Still belly-up on the pillow, Charles let me get his shorts back on him, lifting his bare butt to allow me to draw them up. I did the waist snap and got the zipper up with one hand inside to make sure I didn't catch anything in the teeth that had tasted so great in my mouth, Charles sucking in his belly to give me room.

I looked him in the eye. "Don't be bashful," I said. "Lots of kids get a kind of a reflex whenever they've had anything up inside them like this." I got one of his sneakers and undid the triple-knotted laces to open it for him. Unbidden, Charles lifted his left foot for me to put it on. "You're sure you don't have to use the pot?"

He looked up at me, shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't feel like it."

Greg had gotten his own clothes on and was in the driver's seat to start the engine. He swiveled to check on us in the back, and then started the van further down the firebrake to a spot where he could turn it around. More excellent planning. He knew this area pretty much perfectly. I finished getting Charles dressed, and then put on my own clothes to climb into the passenger seat when Greg paused at the clearing. Charles got into the jump seat again and almost objected as I fastened him in with that trick seatbelt.

"Don't worry about it, kid," said Greg, backing up the van. He grinned. "I'll show you how that thing unbuckles right now, if you want."

"Could you do that?"

"Sure." The van pointed back down the narrow passage, Greg put it in 'Park', twisted around, and demonstrated. He clicked it shut again. "You do it."

Charles grinned as he got it open. "Jeez, that was easy."

"You just gotta know how." Greg gave him a grin in return. "Just don't tell any of your friends. If we get one of them in here, we want to get him naked pretty much the same way we did with you."

"Okay!" The boy giggled. "I'd like to see a couple of them, their faces, when you do that!"

"Only their faces?" I asked, and Charles' grin broadened.

"Yeah, more than just their faces. I'd specially like to see you do them in their bottoms!"

Greg had got the van moving again, and as we got out of the woods, I noted a nervous expression on Charles' face.

"What's the matter, little guy?"

"I, I think I do gotta go number-two," he said in a tight voice. "Just all of a sudden…"

"Okay. Can you hold on until we get back to the mall?"

The kid nodded. "I think so."

I turned to Greg and named one of the mall's big anchor department stores, one of the only two left. "The nearest entrance. See it? There are rest rooms just inside that door. Drop us there and I'll go in with him while you find a place to park."

Greg nodded. "Got it."

We were there in just a couple of minutes, and I had Charles unfastened and out the passenger door, the two of us on the way inside, quick-march. The Men's room was empty, clean, and smelling of disinfectant. This was a helluva lot more accommodating than the general mall restrooms down by the food court and the arcade. I got Charles into the far stall and latched the door as he got his shorts down and settled on the too-high-for-him toilet seat.

Sure as hell, he cut a wet one and then surrendered a small amount of stuff to the water beneath. An instant later, the boy looked up at me and blushed furiously, embarrassed.

"Forget it," I said in a low voice. "You think this hasn't happened to me, too?" I bent over to check the inside of his shorts. No soilage. Then I looked at the label in the back to get his waist size.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I'm going to get you a pair of underpants. What do you wear, boxers or briefs?"

"Uh, jockey shorts," he replied, puzzled. "Are they briefs?" He gave me a tight little smile. "My dad calls 'em 'tighty-whities' when he catches me running around in them. But I wasn't wearing unders when I left home this morning!"

"You ought to be wearing a pair on your way home, just in case you cut another wet one. What kind of briefs do you have at home?"

Charles shrugged. "Whatever my mom buys for me on sale. Different brands."

"Okay," I said. "You just sit here, with the door latched. Wait a little before you clean yourself up, then stand up and shift around on your feet, see if it makes you want to go again. But don't leave the box, got it?"

Reluctantly, the boy nodded. "You're not gonna leave me here long, are you?"

I shook my head. "No way. Men's and Boy's are on this floor. I'll pick up a pack and be right back."

I got out into the store, quickly found a rack loaded with three-packs of a popular brand, and paid for them at one of the check-out stands spotted all over the store. The lady looked at me as I handed her a twenty.

"Accident," I explained. "He's in the rest room," and that got an understanding nod from her. When I got back into the Men's room it was still comfortably deserted, and I knocked lightly on the stall door.

Charles opened it instantly, relief written all over his face.

"You were right," he said. "I had a little more to, uh…"

"'Move'," I filled in. "Little kids say 'poop,' but big guys like you talk about 'moving their bowels.' It ain't pretty either way, but you're entitled to some damned dignity, right?"

He nodded gratefully. I got him to drop his shorts and sit back on the toilet with a gesture, and broke the package to pull out one of the briefs. Getting his shorts off and hanging them on the coathook, I stretched the leg holes of the underpants wide to accommodate his sneakers and got them on. Perfect fit, of course.

Like I don't know how to judge little boys' sizes?

The shorts went on again, and we got out of the toilet stall to wash our hands. The rest of the package – with the sales slip – went into one of my trousers' big cargo pockets.

"Damn!" I growled, and Charles looked up at me, anxious.

"What?"

"I forgot to grab you a pack of tube socks," I said, and he grinned.

When we got out of the Men's room, Greg was in sight, browsing through a tableful of men's dress shirts. He had one of the store's plastic bags stuffed under one arm, and waved us over.

"What did you buy?" Charles asked.

Greg yanked out the bag and chucked it at the boy. "Cotton socks. They'll fit you."

At the first empty bench, the three of us stopped, Charles broke out a pair with red stripes along the top, and got 'em on, smiling all the while and shaking his head at the craziness of grown-ups. Greg took the bag back under his arm.

It was only three PM by that time, so we decided to head down to the food court and adjudicate something to eat. I didn't believe it, but Charles turned down the soft ice cream place and steered us over to the mock-Chinese franchise for a combo platter of General Tso's chicken and fried rice.

What the hell. I had the pork lo mien and Greg got chicken and broccoli, from both of which Charles forked samples with easy familiarity until 3:30 rolled around and he had to leave.

I could tell that he wanted to give each of us a kiss and a hug, but the place was too public for such a display of affection.

"Am I gonna see you guys again?" he asked anxiously, not quite wanting to get up from the table.

"Sure," Greg replied. He glanced at me. "Next Saturday?"

I nodded, and looked again at Charles. "What time?"

The boy paused, thinking. "The arcade opens at ten AM," he said. "I could be here then, if I can get a couple of the guys in the neighborhood who'll come along. My parents won't let me go all by myself. They don't mind if I come home alone, but they don't want me walking over here unless I start out with somebody." He frowned. "Most of the guys don't like to get up before, like, eleven, though."

"Okay," I said. "Figure on eleven AM, then, where we met you."

That got a nod from Charles, and he got up, gave us a "G'bye, guys," and headed for the exit.

Greg handed me the receipt from the food joint's check-out, on the back of which he'd written a phone number.

"Throwaway cell phone?" I asked, and he nodded, smiling. I borrowed his ballpoint and wrote my own on a paper napkin to give him. "Have you noticed that little Charles didn't collect his fifty bucks?"

Greg blinked. "Shit." He glanced at the door, but the boy was already gone. "Let's stick around for ten minutes or so. He might come back."

I shrugged. "He'll be here next week. We can pay him then. I really don't think it'd be a good idea to have him go home with a couple of twenties and a ten, anyway. I'll have it in small bills, nothing bigger than a five."

My new fuck buddy looked at me, shook his head admiringly.

"Louis," he said, doing a credible Bogart imitation, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The End