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Encounters with Bobby (part 2)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Part 2
To understand the next part of my encounters with Bobby, you must
remember what I told you before. Bobby was, in effect, a real
troublemaker. He was a ringleader (more like THE ringleader)
whenever
there was trouble in the neighborhood. And while Bobby liked being
with me, he also resented the fact that I gave attention and time to
other kids, too.
Bobby wanted to engage in a power struggle with me. Bobby was a real
manipulator, and though he could be immense fun to have around, he
was
a kid who had to be handled very carefully, indeed. Early that
morning he got up and went back out on the couch so his brother and
Gary wouldn't know what had happened that night. When I got up in
the
morning, it was all as if it had been a dream. Neither of us showed
anything to indicate our wild night of sexual depravity.
For several weeks, Bobby only came over with other kids, but that was
not unusual. There were no sleepovers during that interval, which
also was not remarkable. Then, one afternoon, George and Gary came
in
after school and were very upset. When I finally coaxed it out of
them, they said "Bobby said you tried to suck his dick!"
I wasn't too worried at that point. I figured he hadn't said it to
any adults, and he hadn't told the truth anyway. Bobby was not good
at telling the truth. In fact, I don't ever remember him doing so.
Sometimes he'd even lie to people about his name, for no reason. So
I
made light of it and said, "Well, why would you ever believe Bobby?
All he's doing is trying to get you upset, like when he talks about
Gary's mom and makes fun of Freddy."
In fact, Bobby often told the boys nasty truths or destructive lies
just to make them mad. "Gary, Freddie said your mom was a whore."
That, he knew, would get Gary ready to punch out Freddie. Bobby
enjoyed these power games.
But I also figured I'd better squelch the rumor and teach Bobby a
lesson at the same time. So I went over to Bobby's house and got him
to walk with me. While walking, I confronted him with the story and
told him he was looking for more trouble than he could handle. I
told
him he could be my friend, or he could be my enemy. Or, if he didn't
want anything to do with me, that was ok, too. But if he wanted to
be
my enemy, well, he'd better be prepared, because I could make him
pretty unhappy.
Bobby decided he wanted to be my friend, or so he said. But I didn't
trust him entirely. I resolved that Bobby wouldn't have a chance to
disappoint me. (If this sounds ominous or scary, it wasn't really.
It's hard to communicate the exact tone of this stuff. I was serious
with Bobby, in that I wanted him to know he couldn't push me around
like the kids. I wasn't really afraid it would go further, though --
I was just heading off trouble.)
Given all this, over the next several months Bobby was treated with
cordiality, but he wasn't really "invited" over a lot, and for a
while
there was no consideration on my part that we might repeat our
encounter. I wouldn't give him any ammunition. Until...
It was Martin Luther King Day, and school was out. I went off to run
some errands and didn't come home until about noon. When I pulled up
into the driveway, I saw the wind blowing some trash in the back
yard.
Instead of going in the house directly, I went to the back yard to
pick it up. While I was walking the trash to the trash cans, I
noticed something in the side yard by my bedroom window.
There was a small fence there, separating the side yard from the back
yard. At some point, the kids had put a large piece of old plywood
up
against the fence, making sort of a lean-to shelter they used as a
play fort. What I saw was the back of Gary's head in the fort. I
walked over, intending to say "Hi" to him. But when I got closer, I
saw more. First, I saw that Gary had his jeans popped open and
spread, and second, I saw Bobby was in there, too.
Not what you think, but almost. In addition to Gary and Bobby, there
was Sara. Sara was eight or nine, and she was known to all the boys
to be available for sex play. She had slept over at Bobby and
George's once and their mom caught her and George naked in the
bedroom. Some other boys told me about having five of them line up
on
one side of a fence with Sara on the other side. Each boy then stuck
his penis through a hole in the fence for her to play with. Well, I
couldn't tell precisely what was going on, and didn't want to get
closer yet, but I realized that if I went in the house quietly, I
could see right into the lean-to from my bedroom window. So I did.
As I stood in my bedroom, I saw that Gary had now buttoned his pants,
but he was blocking my view of Bobby and Sara. Watching a while, I
realized I couldn't really see what I wanted to see. Then Gary
pulled
out a cigarette lighter and started trying to set leaves on fire.
Well, I decided that wasn't safe, and it gave me an excuse to bust in
and find out what was happening. So I did.
They didn't realize I was there until I was on top of the situation.
"Give me that lighter!" I told Gary. He just stared at me and held
it. "Give it to me, now! You know better than to play with fire!"
He remained immobile, but now I could see into the lean-to. Bobby's
butt was showing, his pants around his thighs and he on all fours.
Sara was barely visible on the floor of the hut with her panties
around her ankles. Finally, Bobby yelled "Give it to him!" and Gary
tossed me the lighter.
Without saying another word, I walked into the house, feigning anger,
but saying to myself "Now you've got something on Bobby."
About ten minutes later, Bobby and Gary rang bell. "We want to know
if you're going to tell our parents," Bobby said when I opened the
door.
"Well, why don't you come in and we'll talk about it."
To make this long introduction short, I told them that I wasn't going
to bust them for playing with fire, but that I should. "About the
other thing, well, I think when people are playing private games like
that it's nobody else's business as long as no one is getting hurt."
I looked Bobby right in the eye. "So I won't tell your parents about
it unless for some reason I find myself in a situation where I have
to
say something." I knew now that it would be safe for us to follow up
on what had happened. Bobby understood that we both had dirt on each
other, and that mine was more believable. He also understood that
we'd both held back on further encounters until the power situation
between us became clear. Bobby showed up the next day, alone.
We chatted about this and that, and then I went into the kitchen to
get something to eat. When I came back to the living room, he wasn't
there.
I checked the bathroom, nothing. Then the spare room, figuring he
was
on the computer, but no. Finally, I saw him laying on my waterbed,
eyes closed, feigning sleep. And he had on only his shirt and
jockeys. Walking up to the bed, I looked at his luscious, available
body, then walked to the windows and checked to be sure he wasn't
setting me up with the other kids. I checked every window in the
house. We were truly alone.
Back into the bedroom, I approached him again. I shook him. He
didn't respond. I shook him again. Finally, he opened his eyes,
feigning sleepiness. I said "You want to take a nap for a while,
Bobby?" He nodded, then closed his eyes. Of course, this was merely
to set up the pretext for the encounter. So I said, "I think I will,
too." I pulled off all my clothes, tossed them to the floor, and lay
down next to him.
I pulled a comforter from the foot of the bed over both of us, and
slipped my hand over his chest under the covers, snuggling up against
his smooth body. He let me snuggle into him, my hard cock poking
into
his leg. After just lying there with him a minute or two, I began to
stroke his chest and slipped my other arm under his shoulders. I
pulled him closer, into an embrace. He did not resisting. His eyes
were still closed, but his heart was beating faster. I began to
nuzzle his neck, and slipped my hand down lower to his belly. I
planted a soft kiss on his neck. He breathed in sharply.
I began to stroke his side and belly, slipping my hand up under his
shirt. Then I slipped it up further to toy with his nipples and
pinch
them just a little bit. I pushed his shirt up until it was bunched
under his armpits. I slipped my head under the covers. My tongue
began to lave his right nipple. I could feel his nipple engorge from
the stimulation. With one hand I stroked his neck lightly. With the
other I caressed his chest, his lower belly, the flesh at the top of
his shorts. I pushed my cock up against his hairless leg and began
humping him ever so gently.
My hand wandered lower, rubbing against his hip bones and across his
abdomen, teasing him. I went further downward to caress his thighs.
My tongue continued to lavish wet kisses on his smooth chest.
Finally
I cupped his cloth-covered scrotum and squeezed gently, feeling his
whole body jump with the horny stimulation. Freeing my other hand, I
crouched under the covers and started to slip his shorts down. He
lifted his hips ever so slightly to make it easier for me. As I drew
them down to mid-thigh, I was mesmerized by his lovely, thumb-sized
boyrod sticking up lewdly from his smooth belly.
I continued to slide the shorts down to his knees, to his ankles, and
then off. He had only a ring of shirt at his armpits. I boldly
explored his groin with both hands, and wandered up and down his nude
torso. I was so hot I had to stop for a bit. I put my head close to
his cock and saw that, in the month or so since we last met, he'd
grown more hair. Not a lot, but a string of hairs grew out from the
crease where his penis met his abdomen. From two or three feet away,
you probably couldn't see them. They are soft, very light brown, and
straight.
I toyed with them, fascinated with their tender nature and totally
excited by his pubescence (the word literally means "soft hairs," you
know). I held his rod down a little and stroked it while I played
with these lovely little markers. Then I slipped my hands down to
his
thighs and worked in toward his round little butt. I moved his legs
to a "frog-legged" position so his crotch was fully exposed, then
lifted them a bit to examine his crack.
I was really hot! I put my face up to his penis and begin to rub its
silken hardness against my face, cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead
--
everywhere. I nuzzled his sac, and kissed it gently, first the right
ball, then the left. I took the whole taut bag into my mouth and
rolled his balls around. I tongued them gently, feeling every detail
of the engorging testicles that would one day produce buckets of boy
cum. Bobby liked this. He arched his back as if to put more of his
crotch into my warm, wet mouth. My hands roamed his hairless belly
and moved up to his chest and neck.
Releasing his balls, I tongued around the margin of his scrotum and
let the tip wander along the seam where scrotum, torso, and thigh
join. The skin was warm and slick, with a slightly pungent odor --
the smell of a boy in pubescence. I moved my mouth up, my tongue
laving the underside of his straining young boner, following the
underside of the swollen tube up to the glans. I licked around the
head, swirling along the top. I slid my head down, my tongue curled
around his boner to lick the back side until I reached his soft,
sparse pubic patch. I licked his pubes, too, savoring the silky
little hairs, each perhaps a half-inch long.
Back around his balls, I started to lick along the soft skin in that
private place behind them, leading to his sweet little asshole. I
tongued up and down the ridge there. As I did, Bobby's knees laid
down farther, spreading his crotch a little to give me better access.
Finally, I slipped my hands down his torso and up the backs of his
thighs, stroking the hairless legs as I went, until I had the back of
each knee in one hand.
Gently, I lifted the legs, turning the boy bottom up to view. His
little anus, which I did not see the last time but which he had
flashed at me on a number of "mooning" occasions, was a flower ready
to bloom. It was reddish and set in the whitest, smoothest skin you
could imagine. His crack was smooth and flawless, the folds of his
anal tissues throbbed gently, eager to feel my tongue. I licked
along
the periphery and felt again a slight muscle movement as if to stick
the sweet butthole into my mouth. I laved around and around and then
let my tongue pass over the center ever so lightly. I could see the
involuntary flexing of the little sphincter as it tried to open for
me!
After a few more minutes of savoring this treasure, I began serious
tonguing, once again opening wide to take as large a mouthful of his
sweet, hairless flesh as I could. I sealed my lips with a little
suction so my mouth was flush to his most private place. I slid my
tongue around and around and around. I probed gently, insistently at
the center. As I did, I felt it yield. I heard Bobby give an
involuntary sigh. He was ready for my fingers!
I looked at his anus, slippery wet from my ministrations. My index
finger went from my mouth directly to his rosebud. I easily inserted
it into his sweet velveteen channel. I could feel his rapid pulse
against my knuckle. I slipped the finger in and out -- not merely
probing, but stroking into him. Bobby was being finger-fucked for
the
first time!
My finger tip sought his prostate. (Though I've never been able to
be
sure when I had my finger on one, the response heretofore has been
pretty good.) I changed fingers to let him feel the sensual
penetration again and again. At intervals I returned my tongue to
replace my fingers. Then I tried two fingers. The channel was very
tight, but still willing. After three to five minutes of attention,
his flower was completely opened to me, and when I finally withdrew
my
face, I left my middle finger to hold it open, reaching upward with
my
other fingers to cup and stroke his smooth balls.
I decided it was time. I let his legs fall back to the lewdly spread
position, cocked at the knee like a frog, but spread wide like a
butterfly, and slipped my mouth down on his swollen erection. It
swelled up again, surprising me that it could get any harder. I
could
feel the veins and cords of the boyish cock, the head swollen and
clearly defined. The shaft narrowed behind it, then swelled wider
about an inch from the top, and finally narrowed again to a small
circle as my lips reach his base.
I believe I stroked my mouth on it four times before he started to
come. The pulsing of his boner buried deep in my mouth drove me wild
with lust as his asshole once again milked my finger. The boy's
crotch spasmed against my face and hands. I wasn't sure, but I
thought I tasted a slightly sweet -- something. If so, it wasn't
more
than a small drop, but it tasted like precum!
I let the boy slip from me, exhausted in his post-orgasmic
disorientation. Then I straightened his slim body out on the bed and
lay down beside him again. I reached for his hand, guided it to my
swollen, leaking rod, and slid it up and along the underside. The
sleepy boy was too tired to protest, yet too involved to pretend
disinterest. He was content to let me ravish his body and now his
hand. He began to cup it around my erection, his eyes closed, but
with a little energy. After a few minutes I was close to shooting.
I
slipped his hand down to my testicles. He cupped them and absently
rolled my balls while I jacked off. My cum shot out with tremendous
force across his abdomen as I swung my thigh across his body and
sprayed my cum on the boy.
Quickly, I got up, went to the bathroom, and got a towel to clean
him.
He was pretending to sleep. Pulling on my pants, I slipped his
shorts
back on, pulled his shirt down, and then gently shook him, calling
"Bobby?" His eyes fluttered and he "awoke" with a stir. "Did you
have a nice nap?"
"Uh, huh, it was ok." But it was more than ok. Bobby would come
over
several times a week for naps during the next month. But more about
that later!
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