Cyberboy

Jimmy's Journal

Chapter 1

I'm seven-years old and my name is James, although Stephen calls me Jimmy which means my name is Jimmy. I'm very much looking forward to the upcoming long weekend as I get to spend it all with my Big Brother, Stephen. Well, that's the way I like to imagine it is about Stephen sometimes, even though he's not really related to me at all. As I am the only boy of the household, it gets a bit lonely. I suppose it's terrible how often I've wished to trade in my two useless, little sisters for a brother, specifically (because it's important to be specific about this sort of thing) a big brother! My parents, especially my Dad, can be sometimes neglectful, and they both pay far too much time with those other two creatures! Oh, they do pay attention to me to fulfill all the Quality-Time requirements, and they've lavished me, I'll admit, with toys and games and books and stuff. But it's not the same as playing with me when I want, is it? Or showing any interest at all in the things I like. So sure, they may buy me stuff, but I can always detect a sort of smirk that it's all a bit of stupid kid-stuff to them, as they're both very smart, professional, well-educated, and maybe a little snooty. Possibly I'm not the best judge of that sort of thing though as there are kids at school that say the same thing about me as I'm quite a bit smart for my age.

Stephen though, is very down-to-earth, and can manage to laugh at the same stuff I like, make a bit of a show and pretend-games about my heroes like Harry Potter and Artemous Fowl and the rest and not make it all seem so very childish. And Stephen's taught me how to play a bit more roughly too. I never really used to come home dirty until Stephen showed me how it was a laugh to get messy. Well, still and all, messy might be maybe over-doing it a bit… it's dirty for me and enough to get a complaint from my mother, but I'm still not quite up to mixing it in the mud like Stephen and some of his other friends. But you might say I'm getting there. Mother frowns sometimes that these other boys are a bit too old and a bit too rough for me, but I'd long since learned the value in my household of putting my small foot down firmly and loudly! Make enough of a fuss and you get your way, that's the way it works over here and some say, frankly, that I've got them both (Mother and Father) wrapped around my little finger. Not exactly, and it took a full, week-long campaign of fussing, pouting, shouting and brutally ignoring them until they both caved so that I could avoid a horrible week-end with my Auntie Claudia!

Well, wouldn't you?

To be honest, I don't really mix well with boys my own age. I have to endure them at school, of course, but they all seem so silly and stupid. Barely any of them really read and they're all about just showing off to each other and trying to be boss. It's all a bother as I prefer being able to settle down and relax and just hand the reins off control over to someone who deserves it. Oh certainly, I could never just allow some other idiot seven-year old to run things because, you know, he's an idiot! But someone like Stephen, who is twice my age after all, and so very big and strong and so very wise about things… well, every other boy turns to Stephen for leadership, so why shouldn't I? And what's even more, Stephen rather has his pick of whomever he wants to be pals with and allow to hang about, and it's like he took a glance at everyone at the grammar school (as Stephen is in middle school) and pointed to only a few boys to grant the supreme honor of being his friend and only once did he point his lordly finger at anyone from the second grade! I'm sure it was purely a coincidence that both of our parents are quite good friends, and that this was a singular honor bestowed upon me due to my impressive merits, and which has always made me feel proud. Amidst the gang, Stephen has never once suggested that I might be just a little tag-along forced upon them all and woe betide! Stephen made it clear that the smallest boy of the group was still one of the smartest and most clever and it's no chore at all in having me around!

Needless to say, this made me adore and worship Stephen, and there simply is no more devoted acolyte in the club. There's almost never a command that Stephen can make that doesn't cause me to rush forward to do it! "Can you jump to that outcrop over there?" and I'm halfway through the air before the sentence is completed! How many times have I risked life and limb at my Master's bidding? I've lost track. The other's are certain Stephen could get me to jump off a cliff, although I wouldn't actually say I'd go that far. Nevertheless, I've skinned many a knee and elbow in my time, but all in a good cause.

Of late, I've taken to being a bit more physical… actually wrestling quite a bit. I have oft-times stalked Stephen after school or in mornings, waiting along his route and then pouncing like a wild animal (my roar is not yet very convincing) as I hurl myself upon him. He never gets annoyed and usually tumbles down to the ground (sometimes staggering a step or two so that we fall on grass… he thinks I don't notice) from the shattering impact of my tiny body. He then lets me go a bit before he decides fair's fair and over-powers me. Usually Stephen can't go anywhere without some sort of entourage, but sometimes he's alone when I attack (as I do always attack at least once a day!) and in those cases, we roll a bit more to be out of the way and the wrestling carries on a bit longer. And it gets a bit… different at times, the way he goes to hold me and fend me off and touches me in different ways. It's a bit strange because he's being a bit less… errrr, violently aggressive… and yet I wind up giving in a bit easier. I'm not entirely sure why, but as I lurk in my hiding place behind a well-trod bush or two… when I spy him approaching and realize he's alone, my heart starts beating a little faster in my chest!

Seven months ago, Stephen told me I look cute in shorts, that he likes me to wear shorts. Honestly, I haven't worn pants since then. My mum, who likes to buy me things to wear that look adorable anyway, didn't really notice for quite a long time. I already had a multitude of shorts for play and even a couple of suits which had short-pants. When we went clothes shopping for the new term at school, I pointed specifically at the uniform choice which had shorts. She bought several pair and one pair of long pants which, frankly, still has the tags on it, stuck well back in my closet. Casual wear is all about shorts, whether the athletic type, the fashion-type or the lycra running-type.

Because the first time Stephen suggested a preference for me in shorts was on a day in which the shorts I had been wearing were rather particularly short indeed, I took that as a further suggestion of fashion style. As my mum is, as I said before, interested in the adorable thing, she was a willing accomplice to this sort of idea. Which is why the shorts she buys me are often a bit snug and often a bit, well, rather short.

Father (who is not particularly alert to this sort of thing) actually even noticed after a mere two months into it and, rather peculiarly, started his still on-going habit of greeting me or sending me away with a gentle swat to my bottom. I actually got to where I rather like dashing up to Father when he comes home to work after that. Stephen noticed this routine some time ago and sometimes pretends to be my Father and imitates his voice, "So how was your day, Jimmy, my boy?" [swat] although he does a bit more of a connection with the palm of his hand than dad ever does. It's strange, you know, but I really like it when Stephen acts like he's my Dad.

Some of the lads at school used to give me a bit of a teasing for the way I'm constantly dressed (my refusal for long pants has carried through into the very deepest part of winter, I should mention), but Stephen urged me to give them what-for and I handled myself decently enough against the biggest of the bruisers in second grade so that, following an appearance of Stephen and much of the rest of the gang, everyone in class got the idea of where their best interests might lie.

Stephen even dictated my underwear fashion sense. The first time I climbed into his bed was when my family had all come calling to his parents place and when it got comfortably past my bed-time, it was off to slumberland in Stephen's bedroom. Later on, when it got past his own time (he was 11 then) he got into bed with me and briefly woke me up. Sleepy as I was, I noticed that he wore boxers as underwear and naturally felt (as I idolized Stephen even then) that I should get boxers too. But he said no, that boxers were for big boys and that I should always dress like in the little briefs I was wearing. His wish, as always, was my command.

One time also when I was dead young, we'd all gone on an outing to the beach and Stephen looked so big and strong in a speedo brief-style swimsuit he was wearing. It fit snug and especially tight when it got wet and was a solid red color. I was 4 and I thought he looked tremendous! I was wearing this square-cut sort of swimsuit that was small enough but not shiny like his and not so well-shaped. And mine was this light-blue colour with little dolphins and starfish and all that nonsense on it and I felt like such a baby! Later, while Stephen was playing toss with me in the water where he lifts me up under my arms and tosses me high into the air as the wave rolls in, I asked him if he just hated my swimsuit as much as I did? Well, in his Stephen way he didn't exactly disagree.

This was enough for me and I put a very determined foot down the very next day for a new swimsuit as my old one was certainly no good anymore after I'd cut it into little pieces. Not too surprisingly, the next time Stephen saw me dressed for swimming in the inflatable pool we have in the backyard, I was dressed in a proper red speedo, all shiny nylon, snug and a bit of a daring cut, actually. Mum thought it looked adorable. I felt it rather made me look like I was practically naked, much more so than the older swimsuit, even though the old one really didn't cover up all that much more. But with the new one's sides that were less than an inch wide, I felt incredibly exposed which I really rather liked after I got used to it. Not that it would have mattered once Stephen rewarded me with a playful whistle the first time he saw me in it. I could have hated it passionately and would have worn it anyway if it were Stephen's wish, so it's a good thing that I'm actually quite fond of it.

Curiously, when Stephen recently switched to a different style of swimwear for himself (usually square-cut lycra swimmers, short though, like just a couple of inches past his hips, and black… and of course he looks smashing in them) I did not even ask him for an opinion about my own and carried on with my trusty speedos (which by now I have a wardrobe of four).

I am packing carefully for the weekend, choosing things that Stephen has made a point to comment on favorably from time to time. Even my underpants are carefully picked to avoid the kiddie cartoon-style prints for the coloured, bikini-style, without-the-front-stiching-thingies briefs which he once made a surprised comment about them making me look a bit older. And I'll be going over to him dressed in black lycra running shorts which reach halfway to my knees with green stripes on the sides. I'm also wearing a sleeveless, white, mesh t-shirt that is his favorite, along with a pair of sandles and the silvery-chain he gave me for my last birthday (but that last is no surprise as I wear the chain even to bed). Mum's got the suitcase and is taking it through the front door. I, on the other hand, am prowling around the back because I spotted Stephen doing his after-school Friday chore of watering his own mum's garden. He never hears a thing as I creep through the gate and sneak up behind him, doing an expert job of suppressing my giggles.

And then in one excited moment, I let out my most vicious-sounding roar and I pounce!

Chapter 2

I suppose there are a couple of things I really ought to make clearer before I actually do pounce on Stephen. It really isn't proper to go around just pouncing with a few matters still left so vague. My teacher at school, Mr. McPadden, hasn't much use for things that are vague or ill-defined or just plain left out, and is lightning-quick with the marker to drop your score a level or two for these sorts of terrible crimes.

I'm sorry then to have to leave off for a moment with me sort of floating suspended in the air, just a wee tad before Stephen has a chance to catch me if he's playing "Aha! I thought I heard someone sneaking about… WHAM!" or to be bowled over if he's playing, "Wha… where did you come from…? OOF!" We'll get back to it very soon, I promise… but first there's a bit more of what Stephen will absolutely consider to be the boring stuff.

Actually, one of the things I find a little boring about Stephen is (well, of course nothing actually about Stephen at all!) some of the friends he allows to hang about with him. I realize that Stephen is Stephen and, of course, commands a following. But oh really, some of these fellows are just positively toadies! Yes, I suppose you could say the same sort of thing about me since I'd all but admitted last time that I'm always eager to please Stephen and rather follow his beck and call. But that's mostly to prove that I can! He sets a task and I go to show… there, it can be done, and by me! The part of it that seems to have eluded his nibs so far (as well as the cast of thousands) is that, see, you don't actually need any of them now do you? But of course we keep trying.

So yes, it's true, I want Stephen for myself. I'm not really much on sharing, to be honest. I suppose it's one of my failings. I don't much care about being fair really, I saw him first (ridiculous, I know), I want him, and I'll have him. So this for Christopher and Andrew and Philip and all the rest who think they're so very special simply because they're older and bigger than I am. I do believe they're all going to have to be put in their place very soon.

Stephen has certain things… secrets that he tells me that he doesn't tell them. Well, not exactly tells… shows me, more like. He has these older friends, older than him I mean, grown-up friends. Though maybe friends isn't quite the word for it. He calls them names and all sorts of insulting things and sometimes he does things with them… or says he will anyway. They apparently want him too, very much so, and give him money and put up with a kid calling them things like tarts and poofs and fags and blowjobs and things like that.

I hadn't a clue what Stephen was going on about with those sorts of insults, though I had heard some of them before at school. Well, of course I did the sensible thing and looked them up on the internet as they were all words that are spelled the way they sound. So that's how I learned about some of this stuff, which turned out to be dirty sex-stuff which was actually a bit shocking at first and I naturally shut down the computer. But then I sort of got curious and had another look and there were some pictures and it was shocking and I shut it down again! Later, I came back to it and found a discussion group about that sort of thing, but you had to join so I made a membership and put up a profile with a different name but I used a piccy of myself in my school togs and put that up in my profile and then Mum called for dinner and I shut it down again and didn't come back until maybe just two hours later because there was my favorite show on the telly that night. So when I came back there were more than three hundred posts for me from people who had seen my profile and wrote to me. And some of it was very shocking and some of it was very boring, and I read them all and learned quite a few new words that I had to look up.

I have grown up with very nearly every adult I have met telling me how very cute I am. They say, "Oh, wait a cute or good-looking boy!" And how I certainly take quite a nice picture, Well now here were quite a number of people saying, well, quite a bunch of them were saying much the same sort of thing, really. But there were others who were using different words like sexy and hot and other stuff like that. I thought it was a laugh at first, but it turned out they were quite serious. I turned on one of the message services I downloaded to the computer, the one I gave the addy to on the profile, and windows started appearing on my screen like popping corn! Some of them were extremely shocking and I shut it all down rather quickly.

A word about my parents. They are very nice and generous and buy me quite a lot of things and they are constantly impressed and surprised at how very smart and clever I am. I overheard them telling friends that they weren't worried about me getting into things I shouldn't on the internet because I'm clearly too young to go about that sort of thing, or able to figure the tricky parts out regardless. They think that because it all must seem so very tricky to them. Really, I don't understand what all the fuss is about… it's quite simple, you know. But they think it's all like Harry Potter and magic wands, which is all fine with me, actually, that they think it's that way, I mean.

So anyway, this is all my way of letting you in on a bit of truth that even Stephen doesn't know, which is to say I've come to know (or at least feel pretty sure) about what's prolly on his mind when we go about to wrestling and such. Especially when it's just the two of us, not sore beset by Thing-1 and Thing-2 and so on. So when his hands like to explore and he gets around to saying, "Oh, sorry Jimmy, I didn't mean to touch your jockies!" or, "Pardon Jimmy, is my hand rubbing you on the bum again…?" I'm quite in-the-know now that he's neither sorry nor actually begging my pardon. I've rather come to the conclusion that like so many others at that discussion group, Stephen has the hots for me and thinks I'm sexy. Coincidentally, I've also come to the realization that my own adoration for him goes beyond the 'Big Brother' thing and even beyond the nice mentor-stuff that all the boring pervs at the group are always going on about. I've got the hots for Stephen too and I think he's very sexy indeed!

This has been going on for several weeks now, several weeks since I have made all of these discoveries. Several weeks now in which I, frankly, am starting to wonder if Stephen is actually serious about this (or could I be wrong? No, don't be silly!) or if Stephen is ever going to make his move! I mean, just how many situations do I have to set about to create for him. I cannot wear shorts any shorter than what I am now wearing unless I want to go to school in my underpants. I could tell that his… his "thing" was hard the last several times we wrestled! I mean, he actually stammered… I have never seen Stephen stammer before. But other than act quite embarrassed, he didn't actually do anything. And now I just don't know what to do myself, I'm not even sure exactly what I want to do. The pervs on the Discussion Group offer all sorts of advice with the most worthless coming from the boring ones who say, "Oh, wait until you're older!" The rest are all like "You should tell him you're interested" and "You shouldn't tell him you're interested at all!" and "You're so young, you should go slower," or "You're not getting any younger, you should go faster!" Pretty much all of them want me to send pictures.

Well, we have both engineered this babysitting thing what with my parents going off and my sisters going off and Stephen's family being off and it will just be… him and me. Soooooo, if something doesn't happen this weekend, I mean… something really just must! It seems just impossible that I could have made a mistake here, I'm really quite certain that Stephen rather fancies me. And I have brought over not only his favorite outfits of mine, but also clearly the ones that 9 out of 10 pervs agree are pretty much guaranteed to get me "hot action!" The black lycra shorts and sleeveless, white, mesh shirt combination is supposed to be particularly killer, which is what I'm wearing as I hang suspended in the air, about to pounce on his really, you know, quite sexy body.

Ka-BAM! It is a total takedown, and I have him at my mercy. Well ok, he can pick me up in one hand practically, and spin me around and hurl me across the backyard. Fine. I am on top anyway, exerting myself tremendously and he is, y'know, hands all over me and especially on my bum, which is kinda hot. I mean, it always was but now I actually think, y'know, I understand that this really is rather hot. Anyway, all of a sudden he slides a finger right up between my legs… y'know, there… and he even pokes me a little and oh, that's a start he gives me. I sort of sit right up, looking a little shocked like, "unhhh…!" And I lift up off him, just a little, which is maybe a good idea, cuz all of a sudden I got, like, a boner myself… which is not something that happens with me all that often (which my Perv Advisory Board tells me is because I'm still quite rather young). Anyway, I think Stephen was so startled by everything too that he didn't notice and black lycra, you know, it isn't really that obvious. Then all of a sudden, I hear my Mother's voice and Stephen's mother's voice and they're coming around the corner to the backyard and I don't honestly know if anyone's ever commented on this before… but it's not easy to hold onto sexy, dirty thoughts when your mother is calling your name.

So things settle down and we go inside to unpack and Stephen suggests, "Oh, let's go swimming!" And I think, "Yesssss!" At last, because all of the parents will be gone by the time we're set up and I've got this new secret weapon of a red speedo that Stephen's never seen which is a bit like the old red speedo that Stephen has seen and clearly adored but that I outgrew some time ago. Stephen was evidently quite fond of that one, I know, because he's still got two pictures with me wearing it stuck away in a drawer that he thinks I don't search through when he goes for snacks or to the bathroom or whatever. People think seven-year olds are all about being sweet and innocent which, frankly, works pretty good for me most of the time. But the lesson I took from Stephen hanging on to photos of me in that one rather than the other ones was that Stephen is especially fond of red. Good to know!

But anyway, this new red speedo is mostly similar to the old one in that they are both red. Beyond that, it's rather a different style. The earlier one is more of the traditional style for boys. Through diligent research, I have uncovered that this new one is called a string-bikini style speedo, and is more common the sort that girls might wear actually, although boys do wear them too, though mostly on the continent. I do not think "adorable" is an appropriate word at all for it… I think "sexy" is the only word that comes even close to describing it. I am hoping that "incredibly sexy" is even more on-the-nose.

It's very odd. Here I am in Stephen's bedroom and Stephen's changing out of his clothes and he is just… incredibly naked, and I am thinking, "Yesssss! We're going to do… something." And I'm not exactly sure what and all of a sudden I'm a little nervous and wandering kind of from place to place and putting clothes in this drawer and then moving them to that drawer and I've got my shirt and sandals off and I'm taking off my shorts, well, sort of. It's taking a long time because I just heard the last car drive off and I'm alone now with Stephen and I'm just all nervous suddenly, and then I just grab stuff and dash into the bathroom and it takes way longer than it should but finally I emerge in my brand new and really just awfully sexy swimsuit and big goggles around my neck and my flip-flops on my feet and I'm actually thinking that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Christopher and Andrew and Philip might happen to just drop on by.

So here I am and there's Stephen's on the bed in his square-cut swimmers and he just looks at me for a moment and then whistles very purposefully, that sort of wolf-whistle sound, you know? And I walk towards him a little slowly but with the sort of fancy, hip-shrug step that I sometimes do to look more sexy than adorable which most people think is adorable. But Stephen takes my wrist and pulls me on to the bed next to him, and he just presses his hand against my upper chest and then smoothly strokes down to my stomach and this is not, like tickling or anything wrestling or like that, this is touching like rubbing and caressing and fondling and all those kinds of naughty words. And by the time he reaches down to feel me through my skimpy, little speedo, I am having my second boner of the day.

This surprises him somehow, and he looks me in the face like he wasn't looking before and he sees I've got a look like, yessss, I want to do this. And I see that he sees that and I reach out to touch his stomach and stroke down to his swimsuit and I feel how hard his thing is, except that it's much more of a handful for me, which is fine, ok really, actually quite tremendous! And we stroke each other and then he lays himself back and pulls me on top of him so that our things are touching each other through our swimmers and he runs his arm down my back and then is feeling and petting my bum all over, and I say, "Ohhh Stephen… !" and pull myself up to him, face to face and I just drop my head to press my lips against his and just like that, I was kissing Stephen. And this is not any sort of play kissing or wrestle-kissing or any sort of thing we might try to kid each other is not actually kissing. No, this is real kissing! I have my hands against Stephen's cheeks and around his neck and running through his hair and I am utterly kissing Stephen. In return, he is an octopus all over me, although paying quite special attention to my bum and spreading open my legs and doing all sorts of things like that including, of course, kissing back in a very professional way.

He did this thing with his tongue which was majorly shocking, I know… despite everything else. And it was like, I very nearly just stop right there because it is just so shocking to me. But then I remember a couple of the Pervs on the net had said something that sounded like this, and I think to myself, "Oh, this must be what they meant!" So I was able to settle back down to it and kiss some more and let him do more of the tongue thing, which gave me the thought that I should be doing it too, which kind of drives Stephen very wild! He grabs around me with utter passion from there and flips us over with him on top, although he braces a little so he isn't flat on top of me which is good because saying something like, "Oh Stephen, you're crushing me!" might go far to ruin the mood. And we keep wriggling and rubbing and kissing and I wrap my little legs around his waist, and I feel really good about this. It is hot and fun and we were having sex and really, it isn't much more than wrestling except it's more, you know, lovey-dovey, which is very hot and it feels just so neat to be all boned up and Stephen all boned up and the kissing was very coo' and I was definitely thinking that, Yessssss, this could go on!

Stephen is my boy-friend now. I wanted him and he is mine!

Chapter 3

Stephen is not being sensible at all! We are both together on the same bed, check! We are both wearing very little… check! He is wearing his black lycra swimmers which is not at all very imaginative, of course, but neither is Stephen so… check! It still shows off quite a lot of Stephen which is perfect enough so… check-check! I am wearing this skimpy little, red speedo-bikini which even I happen to think makes me look like an utter poof, but is sooo sexy anyway and was totally worth smashing little piggie open (as my mother was actually hesitant to buy it for me and I simply didn't have the time to work through her silly resistance), as it has clearly driven Stephen wild… an enormous check! Well, what else? We are together on a bed… check! We are all over each other… check! His body is incredibly hot… check! I can't believe how brilliant it feels to have a stiffie-boner for so long… check! We are kissing each other… check! I like kissing… check! I like the way Stephen's tongue feels against my tongue… check! I like Stephen slobbering all over me… check! Stephen has called me his boyfriend… check! I have called Stephen my boyfriend… check! Stephen has said he loves me… check! I have said I love Stephen… check! Stephen has sworn to love me forever and will love no other… check! Stephen has no idea what it means to have sworn that he loves me forever and will love no other, but I'll work on that… check! I have of course sworn my eternal devotion to Stephen (sighhh… in SO many ways already!) … check! Stephen's hand is back against my bum through my bright red speedo that makes me look like a complete nancy-boy… check! Stephen's finger is reaching inside my speedo and Stephen's finger is reaching between my legs, and Stephen's finger is slowly working it's way into you-know-where, my little hole… nnnnnn, aaaaaaaa… uncharted territory! But still, ohhhh, it feeeeeels sooooo briiiiiiilliant right off that this must be a very big check! So Stephen has his finger up my bum and I am not pulling away… check! Stephen's finger is going deeper into my bum and I am smiling about it… check! Stephen starts to get quite ridiculous as though he has no idea what to do next and it's certainly not as though that I have a clue, and so Stephen starts to say silly things and repeats himself and it's all, "Yes Jimmy, only you forever!" and that's fine but what comes next??

This is so not check!

I feel very strongly that there is, in fact, something that is supposed to come next. With his finger up my bum and me liking it more than I might have imagined and just the way it's making me feel like there's more to come because my body is assuring me in no uncertain terms that, no, this isn't it… this isn't quite it at all. And though the sensation of his finger up my butt and my own sustained little stiffie is making it all rather difficult to breath, I manage to glance down, or rather across the length of Stephen's perfect body and I see the fascinating top of his thing looking particularly enormous and hard and just, plain in view, which is an incredibly new sight. And I have this urge to touch it and maybe even kiss it to suggest quite firmly "Oh Stephen, I worship you!" But there's something about having Stephen's finger already in my butt that makes the rest of my body entirely unable to move! And I think, this is it, this is how we're going to be found by our parents two-and-a-half days from now. We'll both be nearly naked on the bed, frozen in place, Stephen's finger up my butt, and my little dicklet snapped off because it couldn't bear being so stiff for so long!

Clearly, someone has to do something here and it seems to have fallen upon my own slender shoulders one more time. And so I try a word, a new and daring word that several of the Pervs on the net have used in reference to me, almost blushing from their typed messages as they do so which prevents them from saying exactly what they're going on about. And in this one, the usual reference materials haven't been much help as it all goes into some rather complex stuff regarding birds and bees and people like my mother and father… which all quite filled me with enough disturbing imagery that I decided not to pursue that line of discovery at the time. But it was clearly important and so I figured to apply it as the best possible golden-key to unlock the stubborn door of our awkward dilemma. And so I grinned an utterly mischievous grin, the sort that usually spurs Stephen to some bit of cleverness, and I said, "Fuck," to Stephen.

Well there it was, right out in the open; I had said, "Fuck." A rubicon of some sort had definitely been crossed!

So Stephen, masterful Stephen obviously considers this. It is clear that I have surprised him and caught him quite off his guard and he simply cannot believe his perfect ears that this sweet and innocent lad beneath him whose bum he has his finger firmly and apparently permanently lodged in has just said the most famous of naughty words. So having apparently thought this through carefully, Stephen elects to smile back at me and says, "Fuck," in return. A deer in the headlights has more of an understanding of what is happening than I have at that moment. I am stunned, I am confused, I imagine I must be doing something so incredibly wrong that there is no recovery. Really, there was nothing for it but for me to repeat what he had just said. And so brilliantly, I answered with "Fuck," again.

"Fuck," replies Stephen.

Oh? Well then "Fuck," right back at you.

"Fuck."

Maybe there's time here for me to leap out from under him, make a dash across the lawn and leg it down the street, log on quickly and get some actually useful advice! In lieu of anything particularly useful or interesting to say, I answer once more with, "Fuck."

After a point, there's simply nothing to do but laugh, which we both do most heartily, him still with his finger a-tingling up my bum. Stephen isn't actually dim, I know this. I have seen his report cards. But it is clear that this will not end of its own accord. Something must be done… something! But I've just no idea what it could be! My minds all whirling about and confused and I've no idea, but I shift a little uncomfortably and grimace and without thinking about it at all I just say, "Stephen that… feels real good with your finger but it's like its gone stuck. Could you… move it around a little?"

Chapter 4

Finally he moves and gives me three wriggles, three and that's all, before he suggests that we take our swimmers off. And so well, I'm lost now. Everything I've noticed from Stephen and everything I've gotten from messaging Pervs on the internet is that swimmers, or speedos are just so very sexy that sex is obviously just all about them. Stephen has always been excited about me in either shorts or my swimmers, particularly the sexy swimmers like these red ones. He always says, "OOOooooOOOoooo… those are so sexy, Jimmy!" when I wear something like this. Sexy, obviously, leads to sex! Words just have to make sense like that, don't they? So whatever he was about with this getting naked stuff, it must mean that the sex-part was over. I am clearly disappointed at this as I was just really starting to get interested.

But Stephen is in charge and I am mostly like a little bird that has been hypnotized by his snake-eyed charm. I must do what he says, even if it's nonsense. And so with a struggle, as he refuses to set me to the side from on top of him and I am entirely unwilling to get off him myself, we manage to slip our swimmers down our legs. Once revealed, I must admit that the trance of Stephen's beautiful eyes is entirely broken as I cannot look away from the enormous size and length of Stephen's erection! My own is wonderfully stiff but is no bigger than one of Stephen's fingers really. My mouth opens in surprise, my eyes continue to stare, and the clever part of me wonders how this is possible, y'know, if the sex part is over, why do we both have such stiffies?

It's possible that Stephen is wiser than I thought. It's possible even that Stephen had set up this entire arrangement by knowing more things than I did, probably from talking to more and better-informed Pervs than I do. Regardless, he lifts my up then and straddles me over his chest and I dangle my legs and spread them so that each would be on either side of Stephen and he lowers me a little so that my knees can rest on the bed, which was something of a wide-spread for me, and I tilt my head down and look back and se that Stephen's thing is still very hard indeed, and he nudges me back just a bit and I feel it against my bum, right where his finger had been exploring previously.

This looks so very naughty that I am shocked and have to look away, which brings me face to face with Stephen again who is all smiles as he cranes up to look at me directly and my hands just shoot around him for no reason that I can think of and we start kissing each other again! He pulls me down on top of him, flattening and spreading my legs a little more as he does so, but it feels ever so good to be pressed against him, feeling his strong chest and proud breast and rubbing my stiff, little thing against his stomach! And his own thing, so big and hard, remains taut against my own, little bum. My mind is flooded with experiences I don't understand! We are naked which is practically against the rules of simply everything, probably including the Magna Carta, and Stephen's thing is poking me in the bum and his lips feel so good against mine and I know it right then what it must be like to be drunk, and it's splendid!

Whatever this is, I want to keep doing it and Stephen must feel the same as his hands keep moving and he keeps squirming and adjusting the rest of him and adjusting me and I don't mind because I certainly am not going anywhere! I am breathing, short and shallow and deep and hard… nothing makes sense. I am running entirely on what I will later consider to be instinct. What this makes me, well, there are apparently quite a few words for that, but what instinct tells me… no, compels me to do is to plant my hands firmly against Stephen's shoulders, adjust one knee and dig in with one foot and then gradually push myself back. Stephen has the frame of mind, at least, to reach back and place his hand around the base of his very long-and-hard thing and so to brace it. I shift my hips up and down which meant that I am rubbing more deteminedly my own stiff thing against his stomach, sliding it back and forth, but also giving the big, round tip of his much-more majestic thing a good rubbing by my tight, concave little bum! I say it is instinct here because I can't imagine that pleasuring my own thing (as I will later hear this sort of thing referred) is the issue. Is it my intent to pleasure Stephen then, or did I somehow just know that feeling the tip of Stephen's thing pressing tautly against my bum and exerting a bit of pressure against my bum-hole is what I am truly after? Am I really that kind of boy? It certainly seems so.

Honestly though, it all just suddenly comes to me in a flash and seems quite logical to me, you know, that since I'd been rather fond of Stephen's finger pushing up into my bum, and since Stephen's thing is quite a bit bigger than Stephen's finger, and since bigger is really almost always better, than doesn't it seem just logical to you that I would be just as fond, if not even more so, of Stephen pushing his thing up into my bum! Well, I'm right certain now that all of that thinking simply makes all the usual sense. It's rather how I went about things that I suppose involves the instincts of the true pooftuh boy.

I wriggle. I wriggle enough for both of us. I wriggle with abandon, oh god how I wriggle! I push back and sit up and push down and do things with my hips and knees, these up and down motions while I'm leaning and raised up… and back-and-forth motions when I'm flat down against Stephen's tummy. And all the time I am flexing muscles that I hadn't previously been aware actually existed! All of it to exert a kind of pressure against my bum-hole and Stephen's thing! It has become obvious to me all of a sudden that Stephen's thing belongs in my bum-hole, that that is where it should be, and right now, if not all the time! Somewhere it finally registers in my mind that Stephen had said, "Fuck me!" and ohhhh Stephen, that is exactly what I am trying to do!

With a lurch I feel a little bit of him finally go inside me and aaaaaaAAAAAaaaa, I have to tilt my head and cry out because it hurts, it actually hurts like I've been stabbed! In that split second I feel my boy-hole forced open by Stephen's sheer size in a way that goes far beyond what his finger had done! If the weight of my body and the laws of gravity hadn't been quite committed, I might have jumped off right then, but instead I wedge down just a little more and aaaaaAAAAAaaaaaa, my head snaps back even more and I cry out rather sharply. Wincing and with my eyes tearing up, I lift myself back up with a jerk and come off his huge thing with one more gasp! Stephen makes a gasp too and I feel his body spasm beneath me and something wet suddenly shoots up between my legs and splashes downwards from my bum-hole! I know it is from Stephen and I never so much as think that it is Stephen peeing at me or in me, I know it is something else and it is because of what I'd just done and from Stephen's cry and the look on his face I know I'd maybe hurt him somehow by coming off and so I push back down and unnnnngggGGAAAAHHH I cry out again as I feel him go back into me just a bit and it really is so big and hurts just again exactly as much and I lurch off him again and I feel another explosion of warm wetness from him and I'm breathing hard and I feel like, ohhhh, I'm doing this wrong, and I collapse on Stephen and he groans like the dead once more and I feel a third splash of warm wetness against my back and I just look at Stephen and I'm crying and so sorry for what I've done wrong and what I am just horribly about to do again as I push back until I feeeeeel his super-stiff thing once more and it is all wet and actually now quite slippery. As I press my bum-hole against it and push further, quite a bit more of it than ever before just suddenly pops inside of me like this is a sudden good idea, and "ohhhhhh… aaaaahhhhhh!" I cry out and my whole body arcs from this new and more tingly sensation. It's from force of habit, really, that I pull off him just barely again this time, and he does whatever he's been doing so that I feel another thick burst of moistness all over my inner legs and against my bum-hole and this time even into my bum-hole!

Well, since it's obvious that I'm just going to have to do everything myself, I really set in to grit my teeth and brace my arms and knees and feet and tell myself not to be such a nancy about it, and I push back and back and back and, well, "aaaaAAAAA!" so I stop and there couldn't be more than half of Stephen's formidable thing inside of me but it feels like so much more, and I've not stopped letting out a cry, even though I don't lurch off, which means I get to feel his thing suddenly pulse and then splash again. But this time it's inside of me and while some of it squirts out the sides and down his thing, all the rest goes deeper into me and ohhhhhh, it's like I'm shot with something and I feel it just go bang inside and all of a sudden the room starts spinning and I am right in the middle of this big, brilliant explosion of ten thousand colorful light bulbs! The whole of my seven-year old body just shudders and spasms, and I give out with this almighty shout like I've just given birth to the world!

I don't touch back down onto Planet Earth until my squirming, slippery, sliding body has pushed back down so that I have nearly all of Stephen's wonderful thing inside of me! The most amazing of the sensations has settled down, whatever has happened to my body for however long it happened, that is all calm now. But Stephen is still in me, like he is meant to be in me, and it doesn't hurt like it had before, it feels good and proper and exactly right. And I want more, I want all of him, and he seems to feel quite the same way about things, and so together we adjust and groan and push and moan until he was all there! Realizing this, my body spasms a little more and the pressure is just intense, which makes me cry a little too because it's all so overwhelming that I really feel that I should cry. But I wanted this, I know I did… I do, and so I stay like that and Stephen holds my face and we kiss each other and he smiles BIG at me and I smile bravely back at him. It is starting to throb a little, his bigness inside my littleness… well, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it? But it is the only way I know to go about things and I want it so much that I stay and even reach down to where the two of us meet and I feel some of the wet stuff that is leaking out and I bring it to my mouth with my fingers and I sniff it and taste it and swallow it and lick my lips all sexy-like and say, "I like it because it came from you!"

And I know I am deliberately shocking Stephen and for once, he even looks it! I just have to kiss him for that with a big, brave smile on my face!

Finally though, I simply can't stand it further because it really is starting to move from throb to ache. I figure it is time to act my age and so I sniffle and asked him whimperingly if he would take it out because it's hurting me. Well, of course he does and I snuggle right up against him and he pets me and he tells me that he's finally fucked me at last. I ask him if that's what he did and he says yes, and I say, "Thank you for fucking me then." And I kiss him all over and am more than ever before devoted to Stephen. He makes it very clear that I understand he wants to fuck me again and that when he does, he will make it feel even better and not hurt so much like it had. I often edit myself in these circumstances, and so do not offer the observation that a bit more movement on his part would likely help things along.

Instead, I simply make it clear that if he can do that, then he should get up to doing it right now! Which is all the urging he needs as he rolls up and shows me a position of lying upon the edge of the bed, kneeling over it with his tummy on the bed just like so… and before he can get up, I get behind him and start to use my tongue and lick all around him, lick a little into him, and then I notice his big, round balls and I lick them too and kiss them like, mmmmmmm, and then put them in my mouth and tongue them quite a bit! And then I notice his now once-again very rock-hard thing and I slide my tongue down the whole, unbelievable length and then back up and do that several times and then I got to where I am flat on the floor and lifting up with my head and I kiss the big, round part of Stephen's thing and then take it into my mouth and push back up with my shoulders and brace my hands until lots of Stephen's thing is in my mouth so I feel it against my throat. And my tongue circles all around him and I raise and lower my shoulders so that I am moving my mouth back and forth over Stephen's thing and he is moaning a ton and liking it, I am pretty sure, and so I keep doing it for several minutes until I'm positively, 100% totally sure that whatever I'm doing, I'm sure doing it right.

I let go with my mouth and pull myself out from under him and sit up on my knees and my little hands go to Stephen's waist and I give a little tug and he pulls himself up and off the bed and I immediately take his place. He has been entirely switched on so that there is no more fooling about with Stephen the Dazed and Confused, he is now entirely Stephen the Consummate Professional. He caresses and fondles me, squeezing my firm, round bum over and over, and then tongues me in my bum-hole with skill and passion, and then fingers me expertly in my bum-hole while spreading some slippery stuff in my bum-hole and then he positions his big, iron-stiff thing against my bum-hole and this time… ohhhh, as you might imagine I am completely ready and entirely eager for this! I arc my back and stick up my bum with my knees bent and my feet on their tippy-toes, and as his perfect thing starts to push inside of me again, my head tilts back and my mouth opens wide but I don't cry out this time, and I know I never will again ever! I just moan in complete ecstasy and manage, "ohhhhhhhh Stephen…!" as he begins to fuck me for real this time! I am growing rather fond of that word. These are long, deliberate strokes inside my bum and they just feel brilliant, every one. It could never even have cross my mind that this is in any way naughty or dirty, or pervy or anything like that. It is wonderful! Every time Stephen pushes in to explore further my insides with his big thing, I say, "Ohhh Stephen, thank you!"

When he leans down over me and whispers in my ear, "You're my boy. You're the boy I love. You're the boy I love more than anyone and anything. My precious Jimmy, I love you so much!" well, I just sob and cry! I could just die, I could just die right then and float right up to heaven because nothing will ever be more perfect than this moment! But then his twenty-third amazing stroke inside me (I'm counting) brings me back to earth as the thick power of it swings me towards my second and even better orgasm! Stephen can tell it's happening, not just because of the noisy fuss I'm making, but the clenching and unclenching the spasms to my body are causing him. When it subsides and Stephen continues to fuck me, I of course express my total devotion to him. "I love you, Stephen!" I declare to the ages. "I want to be your boy forever and feel you fuck me like this forever! Oh Stephen ohhhhhh, that feels EVER so good! I am your boy… yours! Forever!"

Chapter 5

Like I said, thinking about certain things too much can be something of a bother!

It's well enough to say that Stephen is doing something extraordinary to me by the simple act of sliding his great big thing in and out of my snug, little bum. I had caught snatches and read bits and pieces of this sort of thing, but no one ever gave me the idea that it would feel anything like this. I mean by that, meaning, quite so good. Incredibly good, actually. Startlingly brilliant, to be honest. Let's be fair about things, the absolute best thing ever! Is it fair for someone of my tender years and limited experience to go about qualifying something as the best thing ever? Don't be silly, of course it is!

I really could imagine spending an entire day just feeling this… ohhhh, pushing in and pulling out. Brilliant is definitely the word for it. And when doing that a lot, you know, where it keeps hitting a special place inside me… wow, that tingle when it touches just there! And then the way it builds inside me is going to keep me rooted in place and never mind if J.K. bloody Rowlings is in the very next room unloading all the secrets of the final book! Because something is going to happen like when you keep a pan of water over fire… which is to say that it will start to boil and then just boil over! I would say, yes, it's like that. An eruption of… of something that feels just better than anything else. This is called 'orgasm,' children… can you say 'orgasm'? When you're very little it is called a 'dry orgasm' but it will still feel more incredible then you can possibly imagine and you should all practice this with a very good friend right away!

Giggle.

I lift up with my knees and point my bum upward to improve Stephen's direction inward and ahhhh, I can feel it all just clenching inside and the feeling is so special for me and it is like I am holding Stephen right where he is as if to say, "That is where you belong Stephen… stay!" But Stephen IS Stephen after all and I can feel this amazing pressure as he gives a firm push and this makes it so very, "oh my god!" with how that feels and my little body just goes berserk with the feeling of being overwhelmed and I spasm in the most incredible way! And it happens again and again in the intense excitement of this unbelievable sex-thing of what we are doing that seems like it is lasting forever but, according to Stephen's Donald Duck clock, couldn't have been more than half-a-minute. Ohhh, but these are the most precious thirty seconds in the history of the universe… seriously, just take it from me. I'm pretty sure that Stephen and I are right now inventing all of this sort of thing because surely, if anyone had done this before… well, how could they keep it a secret? And so we'd have heard more about it. There'd at least be some sort of series of books.

So there, that's just being logical for you once again.

When Stephen hs his own, more grown-up sort of orgasm, I am as surprised as anyone. I suppose in all the excitement of our first round, the implications of all that stuff that he shot out of his great big thing hadn't entirely occurred to me. I didn't know what it was, although I was quite aware that it certainly wasn't pee. I would have noticed if it had been pee, and I'm really quite sure that, if it had been pee, even within the context of my enthusiasm and expressed interest, I might have objected to pee. It's fair to say that I would have been shocked at the idea that Stephen would even consider peeing in me! Using me like a loo? Well, that IS shocking! But it wasn't pee, was it? And so amidst all the exploration of all these new things, I really can't be expected to take note of every, little detail.

But of course I certainly notice when Stephen starts contorting and stiffening his own body and making clever commentary like, "unggggGGAAAHHHH!" "ooooOOWWAAAHHH!" and "hunhh… hunnhhhHHHEEEWWWW!" At the same time, I can not help but notice that Stephen's great big thing inside me is getting very expressive on its own, actually managing to expand to even greater girth and pushing and pushing even more! Frankly all of that feels extremely dead brilliant and so I am definitely agreeable to it! But then I feel a sort of splatter of something inside me as Stephen's great big thing does exactly what a great big thing in this circumstance is supposed to do according to the rules which I hadn't properly read or understood yet. It is wet and hot and it is everywhere and it makes it so that all of a sudden, Stephen's great big thing is able to go in me just a little bit more and a little bit easier and I went crazy again as my body reacts right away with another one of those dry-orgasm things for me (or maybe just a continuation of the first, it's not easy to be sure) which right off the top let me just say that I consider to be a more than reasonable trade-off! So in retrospect, it would be unfair of me (and when am I ever that?!) to say I was shocked by the way Stephen came inside of me. It's only reasonable to admit that I was utterly pleased.

Stephen is having a hard time breathing about then, he's making these really most desperate sounds. And then he lifts up a bit and braces his hands on the bed and with something quite like a grunt, exits his thing from inside me. I roll over onto my back, my arms splayed out and I know I'm all sweaty and gross and feel quite a bit sore and so maybe… that should be it for "forever" right now. Stephen rather looks like some unfortunate victim in a zombie movie. But he is still looming over me and my eyes, being still inquisitive, stroll downward to look at Stephen's still stiff and extremely impressive thing, and I see the smear of stuff that had come out of his thing still all around it. Well, you don't learn things if you don't ask and so I inquire of Stephen what all of that stuff is. And he looks down and he looks back at me and he looks down again and then back at me once more, and he manages a very lovely smile and he says, "That's the stuff my body makes when I'm inside the boy I love more than anything."

Once a year, Stephen manages to say something like that.

There's nothing for it then and so I scoot down the back of the bed until I am face-to-face, in a manner of speaking, with Stephen's thing, and I reach my arms around his waist and I lift my head and I open my mouth and I lick and taste and swallow everything there is. No one told me to do it, no one even suggested it would be a particularly good idea. It just came to me as the perfect thing to do. And considering the sudden gasp that Stephen made as soon as I started and then the slight tremble to him and the other sounds he made as I continued, I would once again be forced to agree completely and entirely with the idea that I am a very clever boy!

It hasn't much taste to it, if I am to be particularly honest, but somehow it's as sweet as honey to me. When there is nothing left and, in fact, Stephen's great big thing is starting to lose some of its great bigness, I let go and scoot back up to be beneath him again. My first tactical error, Stephen's eyes sort of roll up and he collapses atop me and sets about to squishing me until I finally manage to push him off to the side. It is more than a little difficult as he isn't cooperating at all or responding to my pleas of concern that I cannot breath so very well with him squishing me! Whether it is the exertion of pushing or just everything catching up to me, I feel rather like nap-time myself right about then. Stephen is in a sort of curl beside me and so with a final licking of my own lips, I scoot against him so that the top of my head is under his chin and I feel his thing which is still, you know, in the game, though not as enthusiastically as it had been before. So I catch it between my legs, my upper thighs, and hold it like that… even rubbing it a little, sort of hopefully, and it does rather firm up a bit! But one must be careful what one wishes for as I let out a frightfully tired yaaawwwwwn about then and my eyelids feel terribly heavy.

Somewhere in there I have a vague memory of Stephen emerging from slumber-land or coma-land or wherever he'd gone visiting, and his hand reaches about to press against my stomach and he starts just gently rubbing-circles, and nothing more which is nice and pleasant and goes along with my own nap-time and trip to Never-Never Land. Through the void I hear him saying how much he loves me and I respond as though in a dream that I was his boy forever. I am a bit caught up myself in an image of being like Peter Pan, dressed in nothing more than a little green slip and flying about with Stephen acting like my… Wendy? no! That's not it at all! Stephen would have to be Peter and I would be more like little Michael… though still in just the little green slip. And there would be no Wendy in this story in any case! Exiled… kaput! No girls belonged in Never-Never Land.

But yesssss… I vow to be Stephen's boy forever!

Well, this is all very romantic, I'm sure. But eventually there is this unpleasant thing called reality that sets in. Have you ever had someone put their great, big thing inside of you over and over again, and then fill you up with a bunch of stuff that's all wet and slippery? Well, maybe you haven't then, but let me assure you that there's so long you can just lie there unless you really don't mind being a party to what will surely be a shocking mess. I get up, actually rather abruptly as I fear I may have waited too long. There's no disturbing Stephen anyway as he is still delirious and barely coherent. I make a dash for the bathroom and do what just comes naturally, no books or instruction necessary. I'm not sure if the rest is all According to Hoyle, but I see no reason to turn down the opportunity to get a bit cleaned up as I am a bit sweaty and sticky and smelly and all quite nothing that a bit of soap and warm water couldn't make feel better. I look at my hair which was all entirely out of place and sticking out everywhere, and I realize all the effort Stephen had made with his flailing, stroking hands to work it into this wild style. I turn this way and that in the mirror, and frown a little. Then my darting eyes notice the gel that Stephen had on the counter and back again to my hair… hmmmm. And so rather than do all that neat combing and proper boy thing, I reach in to take a dollop of the gel and work it in as I'd seen others do to give myself that sort of spikey hair look. After a brief inspection, I give myself my own very sound approval. It seems an appropriate time for some sort of change anyway.

Stepping back into the bedroom, there is this sudden impulse to pick up the nearby and very handy cricket bat! Is this some sort of betrayal?! For there is Stephen, making these strange movements and motions and being all like in the very throes of passion and cooing and saying, "How I love you!" and that sort of thing… and as you may have already so cleverly realized, I am not in there on the bed with him!

Fortunately for the benefit of our eternal love (and his continued health) I notice soon enough that there is also no one else in there either and his eyes are still closed and he is clearly still in slumber and lost in a dream. His main saving grace also is the continued speaking of my name with rapt emotion. That rather does carry a bit of weight. Well enough, I cough, I clear my throat, I say, "AHEM!" and as he finally comes around. I stand there framed in the doorway, the light behind me and the bedroom still a bit dark and I admit I posed a little, hips cocked just so with one hand there and looking a bit, y'know, like I'd seen in a magazine once and one of the other lads had mentioned, "OOoooo, I do fancy her!" And I lick my lips a bit slowly to stack the deck quite unfairly, actually, and then say, "Well then?" And it's fair to say that I have riveted his attention and so I follow through with, "Are you coming for a bath?"

I have just switched on my handy robot-Stephen. He gets up and shambles into the bathroom with me, and the tub is full because I had started it at first thought before I considered to take the more immediate little bird-bath at the sink. I am used to the idea of Stephen bathing me when Stephen is watching me. I do not let my Mother do this any more, even though she would prefer it herself. "I am quite old enough to bathe myself," I always have to declare to her, however, and with an upraised hand. "Quackie [my rubber duck] and I are in NO need of further assistance!"

This new level of 2nd-grade independence has not translated to dealing with Stephen. He always asks, "Do you still want help with your bath?" And I always put on the very-cute look and reply, "Oh yes Stephen, please!"

The routine is simple, I am in the tub, there are suds, the water is nicely warm, and Stephen is on the outside and in charge of making sure that every part of me is on the level of spic'n span! But as with so many things that have happened today, this simple itinerary is altered once again as Stephen has the audacity to get into the bath with me. Well you guessed it, I react as though this is really quite shocking!

We are facing each other at opposite ends of the tub and I am clutching Quackie as though he represents some significant line of defense. Stephen just smiles and flicks a bit of water towards me and then reaches out and I am putty in his hands and he pulls me towards him and gives me a kiss and I am lost in his eyes and I know it's true, I really AM his forever. And gradually, he turns me about and begins to do his soldierly duty and take up the task of giving me a good and thorough scrubbing. It causes a fairly clear transformation, it's a bit hard to maintain any sort of sophisticated air about you when another is holding you and scrubbing and cleaning and gliding his hands over you, and you're all wet and slippery and there's soap in your eyes and it really doesn't matter because in his hands, it's really quite wonderful to be controlled. He actually takes a certain amount of care to leave me hair alone, particularly after he actually noticed it and grinned that he liked it. This earned him a kiss or three and the whole process, actually, was slowed by quite a bit of kissing. I have decided that I am actually quite fond of kissing.

Finished, he gets out first and obtains a towel and so I stand and am dried off by my beloved guardian. As he finishes the same with himself, I step back into the room and glance down and smile. And so when he returns to the bedroom, he sees me standing before him, all gloriously clean and spikey haired and once again dressed in my quite sexy, little red speedo-bikini and the over-sized goggles are once again around my neck and dangling just so.

"No, I don't want to go swimming after just bathing, silly," I exclaim with rolled eyes and complete astonishment at Stephen's continued capacity to be entirely dim. "I thought we might watch one of the rental video's provided for our weekend entertainment and maybe have a bit of a nibble at something which you, as the grown-up one, will prepare." Because Stephen's capacity to be especially slow at times is legendary, I also add, "We can sit together on the couch and it's warm and you're warm and so I'm certain I'll be quite comfortable dressed as I am. In fact," I conclude with a shameless pose, "I might very well choose to remain dressed like this for the whole of the entire weekend… or I may even choose not to wear anything at all!"

Stephen is nervous and sort of pacing back and forth. Have I made it a little clear that I'm actually rather fond of the moments when Stephen is nervous? Oh to be certain, I adore it when he's all about taking charge and being the man and all that sort of thing. It's mostly always better that way. But it's still a bit of a giggle to get him all flustered like he is right now.

I know he likes me in my little briefs and speedos, but I'd had no idea how much. We'd just done something that was entirely outside any sort of area of expertise that I might have, and it had changed things. We are lovers now, he done the biggest of sex-thing together, he'd put his thing into me and made me feel amazing until his thing got even bigger and made something go into me that was wet and warm and not like just peeing in me (which would be just shocking!) but something that was special. It had been brilliant and I knew we were going to do that again, I would let him do it a million times with me! It was the most perfect thing I'd ever known and it is safe to say that with seven years firmly tucked under my belt… I know my life had entirely been leading up to this! I would do any slavish thing to get to do it… to feel it, again and again!

On the other hand, it's not always the brightest thing to let Stephen know right off the bat that he is in control of everything and has me entirely mastered to his will (but I am… ohh I AM!). You see, ahem, well yes, but he doesn't need to KNOW that in the most absolute of ways. So being rather bright about things, I know it's best to keep him off-balance. And besides, having him wash me is only fair since he was the one who made rather a mess of my body anyway!

Of course all of the touching required in washing (and the touching that was clearly just for fun) was definitely splendid and it took incredible reserves of self-control on my part not to say something all romantic like, "Ohhhhh Stephen, please stick your thing in me again and keep sticking your thing in me over and over until I feel all tingly, and then you can have your thing shoot that wet, sticky stuff in me again because I don't mind really… ohhhhh, Stephen!"

I agree, that really would have been rather mushy, wouldn't it?

So we kept it to touching and some kissing, yes, and some more, "I love you's" and stuff like that. But let's not get too overboard in the tub! The bath is for the serious business of cleaning up. Mr. Quackie and I are especially firm on that!

And I allowed him to towel me mostly dry as he is older and it really is proper that he should do that. It is, however, ever so much more fun to get towled off by Stephen then by my Mother. In point of fact, there is something decidedly unwholesome about the thought of my Mother toweling me off ever again! So that;s done and over now too.

Choosing what to wear after that while Stephen finished drying himself was easy. I saw how Stephen had looked at me when I came out dressed in my new, red bikini-speedo, which looks a bit more like a girl's speedo than a boy's, but littler boys sizes DO come this way and it IS a boy's speedo and it is mine, and Stephen and I happen to like it quite a bit… so piss off!

But to be honest, I specifically chose to put it on as well as the goggles with the specific thought to excite Stephen again some time later on. And until we are both again prepared for him to be excited enough to DO something about it, I suppose I have to confess that the teasing aspect of it is on my mind. My sexy, little, red bikini-speedo, you see, put me in control… and this just suddenly seems like a good idea to me. Quite a few things have started to click upstairs, and I'd come to the clear conclusion that yes, in fact I do look certainly quite smashing in this swimsuit… practically naked but not quite. The Pervs I chatted with on the internet wrote about this sort of thing, and I was starting to understand it. I imagine that I could send several of them some piccys of me dressed like this and they would respond with the same level of pavlovian droll that Stephen had shown me. And I am actually just shocked at the idea to realize that I'd be oh-so-pleased with myself to see them get that way!

To be honest again, I also rather like the look of me dressed like this. I like being sexy and being practically naked. This might be kicking off a new trend with me.

On the other hand, Stephen is apparently simple going to have done with wearing a hole in the carpet with all of this pacing, until I almost have to turn my head from the sudden glare of the lightbulb that abruptly went on over his head. Mr. Subtle, he is not. And so he reaches into his closet and pulls out a bathrobe, which is not one of those dreary, terry-cloth ones like I have (and have just now made a mental determination to throw away, I might add), but it's all smooth, almost silky, mostly blue in color with black trim. It only comes down to about midway between his waist and knees. It's all very classy and Mr. Bachelor and so grown-up and he doesn't even tie it proper, just lets it sort of hang open as though he's trying to put it out that he is sooooooo much the sexiest thing in the room!

I am, of course, entirely speechless, having only ever before seen this paired with his pajamas. Oh yes, this is working and I know I'm staring and I can't stop, really, and I feel an odd stirring in my snug-fitting speedo as though my little dicklet is having a reaction to this. And it occurs to me that the Pervs are very correct about all this talk of "concealing to appeal" as Stephen has doubled his sexy-score to me and I am dangerously close to hurling myself at him and saying, "Ohhh Stephen, please stick your thing inside me now!"

Thank goodness he hunched down in front of me so that I didn't feel so breathlessly overwhelmed that I would just give myself up in eternal, fawning servitude right then and there! The status quo is further reestablished by his hands pawing all over me as though he adores the sight and touch of me and can't bear the thought of leaving me alone! Excellent, and this feels very good indeed! My skimpy bikini-speedo is doing a fine job of beating his sexy little robe. I think it's the goggles too, he is crazy about the goggles! He is cooing and petting me and kissing me even and I like it and it's all quite perfect except for the disturbing fact that his incredibly big thing is between us and it is extremely hard and standing straight up! And anytime he pulls his face away I can't help but look down on it because it is so big and wonderful and I really want to fall on my knees and take it in my mouth and lick it and kiss it and love it like the utter treasure it is!

Oh thank God it's Stephen to the rescue again as he takes me in a firm hug and then lifts me up with his hands and arms under my bum and lifts me up and up as he stands and without hesitation I wrap myself around him, reaching my arms into his robe and wrapping my legs about his waist. With his hands on my bum and back, I'm pressed against him and that verifies my suspicion that my own little dicklet is firmly hard in my speedo, which appears to be some sort of mutual-reaction thingie to seeing Stephen's own steel-stiffness and wanting to feel it in my mouth or in my bum. And really, I am just seized by this sudden image of him carrying me across the room to his bed and throwing me down upon it and smoooothly removing my speedo-bikini with a deft motion and opening his own robe wide like a cape and then looming over me and the size of him and all the magnificence of Stephen is overwhelming and I squirm and back up almost fearfully on the bed because I am but a seven-year old boy and cannot hope to contain his aforementioned magnificence! But he comes and comes and comes for me and it is no use to try and escape and Stephen takes me in his arms and kisses me and holds me and masters me and he knows forever that I am his and I want him so and I say, "please…!" and finally he… he pushes his great big thing inside of me again and ohhhhhh, how I cry his name in breathless sobs of unbridled ecstasy!

But in the true reality of now, Stephen, the paragon of Sexual Mastery looks me in the eye and slowly speaks moist words of passion… "Pizza! Then ice cream!" And I slump in his arms and take a breath as he carries me into the kitchen. He has been babbling all about food and videos the whole way down the stairs and across the hall and once there, he puts me on the table before tending to his culinary craft, giving me a big wet one as a send-off before taking up spear to find a beast to kill and cook! His erection (I am familiar with the clinical term) is still very much in the act of… errrr, erecting, as it seems it never settles down. He then turns away.

Oh really, enough is enough. I hop off the table, snatch the back of his robe and pull, saying in a bit of a snippish way, "Stephen!" And when he turns, I drop before him, letting go of his robe and taking firm hand of his enormous thing and without preamble, I take it into my mouth. It is clean and smooth and very nice and though tasteless really, it tastes better than anything I could imagine putting into my mouth just then. I shift upwards a bit to bring my mouth down upon him, feeling the head of him against the back of my throat. At the same time, I'm putting my tongue to what I imagine is quite good use by licking around him as much as I can. It is, as I have repeatedly mentioned, very big and difficult to manage in this fashion, but I am determined to try. I go back and forth with my neck and shoulders and my movements are slow and fiercely focused on pleasing. At this I am a smashing success as Stephen is making nothing even remotely resembling an intelligible sound! He is also flailing a bit as I caught him roughly dead-center in the kitchen which has left him nothing to lean against or prop against or whatever. There is only him and me, which is why it probably didn't really take him all that long to place his hands on the top of my head for balance… it just seemed like a long time. This left him with nothing else to do but caress his fingers and hands all over my head and through my hair and gently across my face… and this he boldly set out to do!

The focus of everything is still his big thing in my mouth and there is quite a lot of moisture generated here, I should also mention. I am breathing evenly, almost entirely through my nose which no one told me about but it just seems like good instincts to me. There is a brief moment in which it seems as though Stephen's conscious mind has about become reacquainted with the English language, but then in my forward motions to the back of my mouth, I suddenly realize that it's possible to cause the head of his thing to go down into my throat. It's difficult and not entirely comfortable… but it's possible. This reduces Stephen back again to gutteral sounds which I, apparently possessing some innate linguistic skill, am able to translate into, "Why thank-you James, that really feels most supreme when you do that!"

And so it seems to me the only decent thing (since I started this after all) is to carry on in that direction and become better accustomed to it (which I do) and get to where I actually rather like it as well (which also happens). Hearing Stephen's whoops of clear pleasure and the stomping of his feet is quite exciting to me and with the inquisitive reach of my right hand (the left maintaining a firm grip on Stephen's great big thing) I am pleased to know that I'm still quite stiff in my little speedo and that it feels even better to rub my hand back and forth against my own little thing and down around my little ball-things and even sliding my middle finger so that it protrudes from the others and rub that back and forth between my legs ("ohhhhhhh…!"). All at the same time while I am slurping away at Stephen and swallowing about two inches [5 cm] of him further down my throat than I could possibly imagine when this all started.

I take his further grunts and moans to mean, "Jolly good show, James. You're really getting to be quite the tops at this sort of thing!"

It takes a long time, but I am determined to finish what I started even though my jaw and throat, to be truthful, are starting to ache. But rhyming with ache is shake, which is what Stephen is starting to do as his whole body suddenly tenses up and his hands leave my head to wrap around his own and he is saying something for posterity like, "aaaaa… gaaaaaa… aaakkkkaaaahhhlllllaaaahh!" Which is all I needed to hear to know that this is the moment, and so with great-big-thing still firmly in mouth, I raise my own hands up to my face and with a deft motion, lower my goggles to cover my eyes, and then I grip around his muscular, tight bum again and lunge a little so his thing goes a bit deeper then ever before. At last, Stephen just explodes! It's warm and thick and lovely really, except that afterwards his thing just keeps pulsing and throbbing, and it's all quite clear that I can't possibly swallow it fast enough. I have to pull back a bit so he's out of my throat but my mouth (which hasn't much room to spare with my tongue and teeth and Stephen's enormous thing) quickly fills up with this stuff of his and it starts to run out of my mouth and make an awful mess so I try to swallow a bunch more but I'm in too much of a hurry and start to gag quite unprofessionally and pull back which frees Stephen's thing from the confines of my mouth, though not (it seems) from its clear purpose to continue to ooze out this thick, warm, wet, white stuff in powerful bursts. With nowhere else to go, it fires full in my own face, catching my forehead, nose, cheeks, hair, and in my eyes too if I hadn't my trusty goggles in place. This last might serve to give you the idea that I hadn't entirely been caught off guard by this otherwise surprising conclusion.

Stephen himself was exclaiming, "AAAAaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAA!" as he literally gripped himself in one hand and stroked himself back and forth with very firm and deliberate motions (I noticed for possible future reference) and placed his other hand behind my head to keep me in play as he continued to splash the front of me until I'd swallowed successfully what was then in my mouth to make another stab at Stephen's thing to take the rest of it. And this I did, even as Stephen managed to calm down and settle once more in English saying, "oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy!"

Not the most extensive of vocabularies to be sure, but it was surely all that I wanted to hear.

Stephen just stood there in the center of the room with his head tilted back and certainly the biggest Stephen-grin on his face that I'd ever seen. His breathing was rough and labored and his whole body heaved. This went on, actually, for a quite a long time, although he did manage to stagger back a half-dozen steps until he was against the counter and used that to hold on and remain standing on such unsteady legs. Oh but of course, I really mean that he was like an oak, firm and unyielding against all forces that might rear against him! But I noticed at the last when he was finally getting his breathing under control, that his great big thing had finally settled down to being just a big thing, and so at once lacking that fiery sense of power that oh-so-clearly demanded attention from one as small and as lowly as I, a mere boy of seven, tender years.

Well, it was certainly about time. Not concerned about these sorts of pretense-things, I managed to stand up and stagger wobbly over to the sink where I set about to cleaning the mess that Stephen had made of my face, hair, neck, shoulders, and upper chest. Although, I will admit, as much as was possible was slid back into my mouth and assiduously swallowed. And doing that, I'm ashamed to admit, kept my own quite little thing still rather stiff in my speedo.

Tidy again, I turned to Stephen and wiped my mouth and said, "Well, why not? Pizza will be fine."

It's a shameful several minutes later before he finally sets about his duties as a proper and respectable older guardian, babysitter and excellent watchdog.

The End