Skirting the Issue – Part 2
by
Rwxxx13 (rwxxx13@yahoo.com)
I could barely work. All I could think about was Ethan at my window, and imagining that he was hard under his skirt, his adorable little dick pressing stiffly against his leggings. I hadn’t seen how he was dressed, but I could imagine it. I wondered if he liked what he’d seen. He’d certainly looked awhile. He hadn’t just been disgusted and turned away. Of course, I remember being that age and anything that hinted of sex, male or female or otherwise, was exciting to me.
As I was distractedly eating breakfast I happened to glance at a box over near the coffee table. I remembered that I’d seen Ethan lingering over it when I’d gone out to talk to him the previous afternoon. Putting down the piece of toast I was munching on, I walked over enough to see how it was marked. In black Sharpie was written, ‘Bedside tables’. I knew what that meant. Squatting down, I opened up the box. Sure enough, right on top were a bunch of condoms, some lube, and my Fleshlight. Well, well.
After that I was on autopilot until about three-thirty when I got a knock at my door. Curious, I went to the door and opened it. I was greeted by the woman I’d seen before and said, “I’m guessing you’re Debbie.” I held out my hand with a smile and said, “Danny.”
Her hand was as warm as her son’s had been. “I’m just getting home and I wanted to thank you for being so nice to Ethan last night. He called after he got home and couldn’t say enough nice things about you.”
I gave a theatrical sigh. “Maybe I can still get a refund on that Coleman cooler.”
She laughed nicely. I could see where Ethan got his smile.
“Seriously, though,” I said, “it was my pleasure. He’s a great a kid. He was a big help.”
“Well, he’s special, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she said with an amused look. Then the look grew a bit pensive. “He puts on a brave face, but he’s not as confident and carefree as he pretends to be. You seemed to be really accepting and I appreciate it. You’d be surprised the number of adults who say cruel and stupid things.”
“Well, I probably wouldn’t be,” I said, “but that’s on them. Anyone who dismisses Ethan is missing out on a great kid.”
Debbie gave me a look of equal suspicion and amusement. “I’m not sure what to make of you, Danny Harkins.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “I really don’t have a cooler,” I assured her. “You can check if you want.”
That earned me another laugh. “Well, I just wanted to meet and to say thanks. He’s a sweet boy, but if he gets on your nerves, just send him back home. He doesn’t have any friends near enough to play with after school, so I’m worried he’ll start bugging you.”
“I’ll probably welcome the distraction,” I told her. “Coding can get a bit mind-numbing sometimes. Don’t worry though, if he gets annoying I’ll chase him away with some classic rock or something.”
“Ahh,” she smiled. “He was listening to his music, huh? Well, sadly it won’t work. He likes classic rock, too. Just throw ice or something.”
I laughed. “I’ll remember that.”
We said our goodbyes and I went back to my office. At a few minutes to five I heard a knock and went to let Ethan into the condo. I looked for some sign of what he’d seen that morning, but he acted as though nothing had happened. I kept hoping for some staring at my crotch or something, but I got nothing.
Ethan was wearing pink leggings today, with a light blue skirt and a black t-shirt which admonished the reader to be a flamingo in a flock of pigeons. Ethan was taking the message to heart. The shoes today were black sneakers with sparkly red hearts all over them. I noticed a number of bracelets on each of his wrists, all of cloth or hemp or rubber.
We talked about the boy’s day at school, about his friends, about his favorite music and television schools. I shared some of the same and he kept bemoaning just how old I was, to which I replied that he was a baby who obviously knew nothing of the world.
He’d said earlier that he could only stay until seven, and as that hour grew near he got a bit of a cagey look and asked me with overt casualness what time I usually got up in the morning. “Because you were having coffee yesterday, but today I didn’t see you.”
Oh, you saw me alright, I thought. Out loud I said, “I usually get up between nine and ten I guess. I don’t have a set schedule, so I can pretty much work whenever I want.”
“I wish my mom could do that,” he said.
“It’s pretty nice,” I allowed. Then that was it. I wasn’t sure exactly his motive for asking about my schedule, but I knew it had something to do with the show he’d gotten that morning.
A few minutes later we said goodnight. We’d worked out the first day that I’d pay him ten bucks an hour, which his mom thought was a bit wasteful, but it was worth it to me and frankly I was trying to buy a bit of his affection.
So I spent another night alone while thinking about my adorable little neighbor and wondering what I’d do in the morning. Did I meet him for coffee again? Did I give him another show? If a show, then what kind? Did I want him to see a full-on erection yet? I wasn’t sure of my ability to maintain a soft dick with the thought of him looking, and for sure I didn’t think I could prevent it if I saw him staring in at me.
I solved the problem by getting up a bit earlier the next day. At ten till nine I sat down at my computer and pulled up a folder hidden on my hard drive; a folder which contained all my porn. As you can imagine, I don’t have men and women screwing in any of these pics and movies. They all feature boys in the eleven to thirteen range, either solo, with other boys, or with men, women or girls. At a couple minutes to nine I pumped out a slimy load into my cum rag. Squeezing out the last remnants of my jizz, I got back into bed and waited, fully exposed.
I wasn’t at all embarrassed about being seen naked, soft or not. I’m not exactly a shower, but neither am I a grower. I’m somewhere in the middle. My six inch dick usually hangs right about four-and-a-half inches soft. Right now it was lying across my groin, pointed up and to the right, perhaps closer to five inches or a tiny bit more from the fading erection.
When Ethan appeared a minute later, my dick didn’t even twitch. He seemed much more nervous this morning, constantly looking up and down the hallway, but always his gaze would come back to me, while his cupped hands blocked the morning light. I made myself breath slow and deep, feigning sleep.
After a minute or so I saw Ethan’s hand drop downward while he continued to peep at me, and I imagined he was touching himself. That’s when my cock began to betray me. I felt that first incipient tingle and knew it would be rising upward any moment. I waited a few long moments, feeling it begin to fill with blood, hoping Ethan would move on, but he seemed to be determined to get an eyeful.
I didn’t want to get hard. Not because I worried it would scare him or something, but because it just seemed so damned obvious. The last thing I wanted was for him to get suspicious that I’d planned this and was watching him even now. Sure, dicks can get hard for no reason at all, but I didn’t want any hint of anything hinky. So, when I knew my erection was inevitable, I sighed and rolled onto my right side. Just before I lost sight of him, I saw Ethan jerk backward, but then I couldn’t see him anymore and I just lay there while my cock continued to grow, pressing against the mattress, held in place against my hip.
Again, I waited. After a minute or two I started counting, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and so on, until I’d counted out another full five minutes. Then I rose, trying to make it seem casual, just in case. I glanced askance at the mirror, but there was no one there. Having cum before the show, I was content just to hop in the shower and ignore my dick, allowing it to return to its flaccid state.
Then it was a matter of filling in the hours between then and when Ethan would get home from school. Sadly, he finished the rest of the unpacking that afternoon. Once again I’d watched him for some sign that he’d been affected by what he’d seen that morning, but there wasn’t much to see.
* * *
I was worried after that day that I might see less of Ethan, but as his mom had predicted, he’d pretty much latched onto me. He began making a habit of coming by after school, telling me about his day, or about movies or television shows he’d seen. Often he’d get me to watch some video on YouTube with him. I found out he was really into social media, like Snapchat and Instagram. I was able to avoid being linked to him there only by explaining I didn’t want his friends to think I was some sort of creep, then I secretly followed him, just so I could get a look at his pictures throughout the day.
And so the days went by. I was always fascinated by Ethan’s outfits, and was happy to tell him so. As April became May and the weather really began to heat up, he started to wear a bit less, which suited me just fine. He didn’t always wear a skirt, and I never saw him in an actual dress, but there was always something very feminine about his outfits. My favorite days were when he would wear a skirt without any leggings. Those smooth, hairless legs filled my daydreams and my nights.
One day I finally asked him why he chose to dress the way he did. He said that at first he thought it was because he wanted to be more like his mother, but she didn’t really wear the type of clothes that attracted him. He liked pink, which his mom didn’t, and he liked cute things, like unicorns and kittens and rainbows. His mother was more of a tomboy. He decided he was just jealous of the cool, brightly colored things the girls at school got to wear. Boys clothes were boring.
The best part of that conversation was when he leaned forward and dropped his voice in a secretive hush. “You know the best part of girl clothes?” he asked.
Intrigued, I asked, “No, what?”
With a slight blush, he confessed, “The underwear. It feels a lot better than boy underwear.”
I grew hard just thinking about it. Was he really sitting there in silky panties? I got lost in thought for a moment and came back to find him searching my face for a reaction. Then it was my turn to blush. “Probably look a lot sexier, too,” I said, shocking myself.
Ethan gave me a secretive smile.
One night I got invited to dinner. Debbie made meatloaf and mashed potatoes and we had an enjoyable evening getting to know each other. The adults had wine while Ethan had juice. Ethan was even more relaxed in the familiar environment of his home and with his mother around, and it caused me to recognize something that had been subtly bugging me.
See, I had known many gay people through my life, men and women. I’ve known the types of gay guys who are ‘manly’ and ‘straight’ seeming and who people always seemed to be surprised to find are gay. Then I’ve known guys who really earn the term ‘flaming’. However, while Ethan clearly enjoyed dressing as a girl, or at least in some girly things, he never wanted to be called ‘she’, he didn’t bother to adopt a more girly hairstyle, and he didn’t act at all feminine. Well, perhaps a touch, from time to time. Thinking about it, he was more like a tomboy, a boy dressing like a girl but acting like a boy while the occasional girlish behavior slipped through. Or something like that. In any case, he fascinated me.
In the mornings, I kept up the routine. Sometimes I’d be waiting with a cup of coffee when Ethan left for school. Sometimes I’d be in bed with a barely covered erection. Sometimes I’d get up early enough to take the edge off with a quick wank so that I could suffer through his morning inspection without getting hard.
If this seduction, and that’s what it certainly had become, sounds one-sided, then I assure you it wasn’t. While my side of it was mostly clandestine, with my morning exhibitions, Ethan’s were a bit more obvious, if slightly unsophisticated.
Ethan no longer came directly to my place after school. He would almost always go home first and change clothes. While he still mostly wore skirts and leggings to school, when he came to my place it was often in less. Feminine spaghetti-strap shirts weren’t uncommon, notable because of the way his tiny nipples would press against the thin fabric. I loved seeing his bare shoulders and underarms.
Once he showed up wearing an incredibly small pair of shorts. Think Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn. They were cut low on his belly and half his gorgeous little ass was hanging out the back of them. To top it off he was wearing a cut-off jersey shirt with the words ‘naughty’ and ‘nice’ on the front, each with a check box. Naughty was checked off, of course.
Ethan took several opportunities to bend over during that visit, giving me a perfect view of his perfect backside. If you think that was by accident, you’re wrong. Nobody’s shoes come untied that often on their own.
A couple of days after that incident Ethan was over and we were playing Mario Kart. He was sitting to my left on the couch. I was wearing my usual shorts and a t-shirt. Today he was dressed much the same, except that his white t-shirt was a couple of sizes too small for him and in pink letters said, ‘I’m not cute. I’m frigging adorable’. I had to agree. His shorts were also too small, also white with pink trim and made of some shiny fabric.
I was trying to split my attention between keeping up in the game and sneaking peeks between his legs, where I could see a lump. I was trying to figure out which part of the lump was little boy balls, and which part was little boy dick. I was especially interested in the dick portion.
Ethan interrupted my inspection by asking, “Danny, can I ask you a question?”
I’d quickly shifted my eyes back to the television when I’d seen him start to turn, so I looked back at him casually and said, “Of course.”
He hesitated a few moments, then said, “It’s kind of a personal question.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay,” I assured him. “You can ask me anything.”
His face scrunched a bit and he said, “Like… really personal.”
Intrigued, I put my controller down and turned on the couch to face him more fully. “Shoot.”
He met my eyes for a moment, then his skittered away. I saw him chewing on the inside of his cheek, something I’d noticed he did when he was nervous. Finally, he said, “Do you… you know…” and then he made a jacking motion with his hand.
“Ohhh,” I said. “Hmm, well, I don’t know what’s so personal about that, but to answer your question, no, I don’t milk cows.”
You’d think I’d grown an extra head the way his eyes popped wide, then he was up on his knees, half pushing and half punching my shoulders. My eyes immediately dropped down between his legs and I forced them back up to his face. He was grinning hugely, but then his face clouded a bit and he said, “You know what I mean.”
My eyes drifted downward again and then I caught myself and raised them quickly. Not quickly enough it seemed. Ethan had caught my look and now he raised his eyes from his own crotch back up to mine. There was a question in his eyes that I wasn’t ready to answer, so I went for the other question. “All guys do,” I assured him. “Well, most guys,” I said. “If they say they don’t, they’re lying, or really really weird.”
“So it’s not… bad? Like perverted or something?”
“Not even a little bit,” I told him. “Perfectly natural, and even good for you. Your mom must have told you this stuff,” I said.
He blushed. “I can’t ask her about it. She gave me a book, but I just… you know… wanted to make sure.”
I couldn’t help it. I glanced down again. The kid’s crotch was practically in my face after all. Okay, that part of the lump was definitely a boy dick. It had distinguished itself from the rest of the lump and was quite possibly on the rise. Ethan pushed his skinny hips forward a bit, making that lump more prominent and I looked up guiltily, to find him looking at me with a mysterious smile on his face.
I managed to save myself by jumping back into the game, causing him to react quickly to catch up. After that the outfits got smaller and the questions about sex cropped up more and more. How often did I get erections? How often did I masturbate? What was sex like? The only subjects he seemed to avoid were those of our sexuality. He never asked about homosexuality, or my own sexual preferences.
Eventually I decided to bare all, as it were. I even had the bright idea to open up my window just a smidge; just enough to allow me to hear outside. It was worth it. That morning I didn’t bother to jerk off in the morning, and I didn’t bother to cover myself. So my throbbing cock was on full display, bobbing lightly above my groin when I saw Ethan appear at the window. I’d even left the curtains parted just about an inch, wanting him to get the full effect.
I heard Ethan’s breath hitch when he saw me, and this time there was no glancing up and down the hallway. He was riveted to the sight of my cock and I didn’t have to pretend it was anything but achingly hard. My balls were actually aching a bit, and my cock was twitching. I saw a drop of precum drip from my slit and hang for a moment before dropping to my crotch. I began to seriously wonder if I was just going to spontaneously cum right there, without touching myself, just spraying my jizz all over my belly.
Then Ethan did something that surprised the hell out of me. He very carefully aimed his phone at me and snapped a picture. Then another. I could hear the tiny clicks. He seemed to zoom in for one final pic, and then he was off down the hallway. I didn’t even wait. I grabbed my cock and with only three tugs I was spurting hot ropes of cum.
End of Part 2
Copyright 2019 – Rwxxx13
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