A Trio of Tales

[Here are collected three small stories written at different times, under different inspirations – all with delight. If implications about youth sit uncomfortably with you, read something else. If not, there’s satisfaction to be had, and amusement.]

A boy’s best friend

“A boy’s best friend is his mother,” Molly reminded her son.

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter replied, head tucked.

“Now do what I told you. It’s for the best.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kept a close eye on him as he collected everything on the list and tucked each item into his new zipper bag. Small hair brush with its rounded handle, four-inch comb, several hotel-size bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a container of coconut oil, one washrag, one hand towel, talcum powder, a pocket-pack of tissues, and his new electric hair trimmer with multiple length-length settings.

“Good.” She looked him in the eye, “Now remember, boys like you are cyphers whose codes adoring elders cannot break.”

Peter’s nipple nubs showed clearly against the taut fabric of his pull-on shirt as he thought about what she had said over and over again to get him ready.

He nodded.

“Turn around. Let me see how the alterations I made to your shorts fit your contours. Oh, they are form-loving – quite up in the valley without a single crease!

“You’re good,” he beamed.

“First impressions count so much.”

“What if he’s shy?”

“Tell him you have the right to consent, so to go ahead. Then blush like I taught you.”

“I’ll be irresistible?”

“Adorable. Now give mother a kiss. I see his car in the driveway.”

As Peter waved and went, Molly had a song in her heart and a lump in her throat.

* * *

Conversation in the kitchen

“Momma, I saw Paul’s pants around his knees.”

“Where is he? In the bathroom?”

“No ma’am. He’s in Poppa’s room.”

“Has he been bad again?”

“No ma’am. Poppa says he’s being very good.”

“Well then, so be it.”

“I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“You have.”

“Should I have my pants around my knees?”

“When Poppa has finished with Paul.”

“Can I practice with you?”

“Yes dear. Turn when you do. Show me your bottom. That’s fine. Now spread your knees so your pants will stay right where they are.”

“Good?”

Perfect. Now, so you’ll be ready for your first time with Poppa, I’ll poke a little of this in you.”

“Eeee! That feels funny!”

Just grease from Sunday’s goose.”

Is Poppa going to goose me?”

“Yes, but not with his finger.”

“What with?”

“You’ll see. Oh, here’s Paul now. Paul dear, how did it go this time?”

“So good, Momma. He got me all the way. May I have some ice cream?”

“Of course. Watch how you sit. You’re not going to drip on my chair, are you?”

“No Momma. See? Poppa stuck this in me.”

“How thoughtful. Fits you well.”

“Paul, what is that?”

“Little bro, it’s my plug. I got it for being good.”

“Momma?”

“Yes, Poppa?”

“Is our youngest with you?”

“Bottom ready?”

“It is. Greased, the way you like it.”

“Send him in.”

“Hear that. It’s your Poppa. He wants you. Waddle in just like that, knees spread.”

“I feel grown-up.”

“Bro, you’re going to feel something else. Be good.”

“Bye. I will be.”

“Yes, my babe, you will be, Momma’s sure.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Thinking back

I remembered the situation like it was yesterday.

What I planned to say ran out of my head. But not out of Ken’s eyes. He knew that I had no excuse.

“Don’t look at me that way.”

“You did it, didn’t you?”

Had me there. His eyes traveled the length of my throat and back to my jaw.

“I asked you a question.”

Figured trouble was brewing. Better own up to something.

“Okay, I sucked him…sorta.”

He simmered a second. “How far?”

“Down to his pubes.”

Whap! I got a palm upside my head. Before he showed more of his concern for me with his other hand, I blabbed, “Scottie came on to me.”

“How?”

“Well, his cock came out from under his towel. I couldn’t resist. I mean, it’s so long.”

“Did you have anything to do with its appearing that way?”

I must have turned red or something because he smacked me again with the same hand.

“Fess up.”

*Gulp*

“Now, or…”

“I reached just for his balls. You know, they’re so big and hairy. Only managed one for a quick feel. But, his sleepy snake woke up and…and raised its head…and was going to spit at me.”

“I’ll bet. So?”

Sexy voice. Real deep when he’s serious. Makes my skin creepy.

“So, I opened wide and stuck my tongue under it and…and it just went right in.”

“In?? On what?”

“Spit. I had lots of it.”

He saw me drooling. I did that even back then, when a big one was on my mind or in my mouth.

“Swallow.”

I thought it was a question. I blurted, “That’s what I did…and, you know, gagged before I couldn’t anymore because it was in my – what’s that word you used one time? – gullet.”

“Scottie let you?”

“He made me.” In full confession mode, I piped the truth. “His towel. He pulled it off his waist, wrapped it behind my head, and pulled with both hands – bang! bang! bang! – until I got the hang. To get him to stop, I started doing him on my own.”

“What about him?”

“Scottie dropped the towel, put his hands on his hips like a cowboy or something, stuck himself in my face…”

A damp blob of terrycloth on the floor caught his eye. “It that it?”

“Uh-huh.”

What happened next was that I got fussed at and spanked. “Somebody who’s eight years old ought not to be sucking dick! Take it like a man!!

I thought, “I did – all the way. To. His. Pubes.”

Anyway, he later blistered me a few more times after word leaked I’d gone back to Scottie’s juicy meat sorta regular like.

One day, Ken wised up. Should’ve sooner. Duh.

He, my twenty-seven-year-old guardian, was letting this cocksucker’s mouth go to waste in between times when Scottie was dumping cum down my throat. And wasting energy tearing up my butt when he could’ve been trashing my gullet.

A development was that, to judge how his hand was registering on my rear, he jerked my pants down and, one time, when he was rubbing my redness, he slipped down in the valley. Found you-know-what. All sweaty, it gave way to a finger.

Let’s see, he must have thought, long finger goes in tiny hole like long dick goes in deep throat.

Bingo! After that, I was always feeding on him while he haad a finger up my wazoo. By my tenth birthday, two fingers. By my twelfth, three.

That party was special. Balloons, cake, ice cream – the works. Ken and Scottie were tag-teaming me when my court-appointed attorney, Miss Louise Thripple, showed up with a present and walked right in.

A high point in the celebration!

“I’ve always wanted to see what goes on,” she said. Her purse on the end table and her briefcase on the carpet, she sat on Ken’s sofa and frigged herself.

After the refreshments and a spank from her, I opened the gift she brought: my first cock ring.

It was too big but she said, “You’ll grow into it.”

We liked her.

That was then. Now is now.

Louise and I like to reminisce as we proudly watch our triplets mature – Fannie Lou, Mae Belle, and Ruby Rosa. In-vitro worked for us!

Honestly, those girls are so popular. They’ve already dated just about the whole Snatchville High football team and are starting in on the basketball gang.

Oh, you probably didn’t know. We were married when I was fourteen (I told the minister at the Church of Risen Flesh I was sixteen) and have been happy ever since. Our girls’ ‘uncles,’ Scottie and Ken, also became my husbands.

Don’t get your nose out of joint over it. Perfectly natural. Our ceremonies – with Louise as Maid of Honor (in a little white apron) – were appropriately on the Isle of Man. So romantic. So butch. To remind us, we brought back a Manx cat, Sweet Pussy, a neutered male that loves to lick.

Now gone to the Great Cat House in the sky.

Sweet Pussy gave our girls ideas from the time they were the age I was when Ken discovered my fun with Scottie. Their tongues have no feline rasp. Louise and I can attest to that. They are smooth lickers. Making money because of it.

Their instructional videos can be downloaded for a fee: “Tonguing Techniques,” “Sucking Success,” “Gonads and Balls – Care and maintenance,” and “Cunnilingus for All.”

For customers with children, there’s the popular instructional video, “Starting Young – Progressive Discovery.”

You can understand why we are so proud.

Achievement’s what it’s all about.

Why, when I was in movies and working for some of the big porn studios – Falcon Nest, Man’s Treasure, Butts Galore, and Whippers – I won “Throat of the Year” and “Best Ass This Year” (for “A Hole for All Seasons”).

Stars? I had and was had by the best. I swung on the Tarzanic vines of Weismuller, Ely, and Crabbe, and survived being stabbed in the butt repeatedly by Eastwood and Wayne (who tossed me out of his bunkhouse when Brandon de What’s-His-Name sashayed by – all teenage innocence and stuff).

Achievement.

Now's your turn - below. In keeping with all other writers who share their stories through the good auspices of Gaydemon, I seek your approval and encouragement.