Category: Tweens (Page 8 of 43)

Confession of a Boy Lover – Chapter 3
By
Caliboy1991

The pizza box, which was on the floor of the living room, was empty. It sat between me and Jem, where we sat cross-legged, also on the floor. The boy patted a full stomach, “That was DE-licious,” he emphasized the first syllable and then punctuated it with a burp.

We both laughed at the antics of Woody and Buzz in Toy Story 3 all the way until the credits rolled. By then, it was pushing nine o’clock. I grabbed the pizza box and climbed to my feet with an exaggerated groan, “Alright, I think it’s bath time, big guy. You want to head that way while I put this in the trash?”

A few minutes later, I found Jem in the bathroom, rummaging through his backpack. After a few minutes, he blushed as he said, “Is it okay if I wear my superman Underroos tonight?”

He held up a blue t-shirt top with the red and yellow S and a pair of red underwear. I was sure he would look positively adorable. I was equally sure I wasn’t crazy about him wearing them. I said, “What about your Incredible Hulk pajamas?”

He shrugged, “They’re dirty.”

Inwardly, I sighed. “Sure, buddy. Superman it is.”

Then, I turned on the faucet in the tub, “I’ll run your bath-water for you, Jem. If you need any help, just let me know. I’ll be in my bedroom. Okay?”

He nodded, the blush still on his rosy cheeks. Once the water was to a suitable level, I cut it off and headed to the door. He was already shirtless as I closed it behind me.

Back in my bedroom, I lay on my bed, wondering how I found myself in such a predicament. The more time I spent with Jem, the more I wanted to be around the boy. And that wasn’t good for either of us. My thoughts ran back to the other boys I had loved before my life had gone off track. The youngest had been twelve. The oldest, just shy of fourteen. My attraction had been for boys in the early stages of puberty, and Jem was still several years away from that. So, I sucked in a deep breath and told myself I could handle myself, that I would never touch him. Not sexually, ever.

Around the time I made that vow to myself, his cherubic voice called out, “Jack! I need help!”

Holding tight to my vow, I went back into the bathroom. Jem was still in the tub. His legs were straight, and he was leaning back on his arms. That put his privates on public display. Like most boys in the US, he was circumcised, which gave him his penis a perfect bit of symmetry. His tiny glans created a perfect helmet above his thin, little tube of flesh. Even though he pointed nearly straight up into the air, it was because he was small, not really more than an inch in length. His sack was nestled tightly below his shaft and his balls, outlined within his scrotum, were probably twice the size of raisins.

He looked up at me, blissfully unaware his charms were on full display. I said, “Hey, buddy, you need help?”

Jem nodded, “Yeah, can you wash my hair? Mom usually does it for me.”

I knelt beside him and tried to not stare at his little noodle, “Sure.”

I had a plastic cup I had picked up at some U of Colorado game on the counter. I grabbed it and turned the water on and filled it up. “Let’s get your hair wet first.”

I doused his hair a few times with that cupful of water and then poured shampoo into the palm of my hand. There was something delightful in running my soapy fingers through his long strands of hair as he remained oblivious to how he gave me unfettered access to see him in all his innocent glory. Still, I needed to hold fast to my vow, so I did my best to not dwell on what he displayed. After thoroughly shampooing his hair, I rinsed it even more thoroughly, pouring warm water from the faucet onto his hair until the tub had filled up another six inches or so.

I leaned back, “There you go. Anything else before I let you finish up?”

Jem nodded, and finally leaned forward, hiding his boyhood below his hunch, “Can you wash my back? Mom does that too.”

I could see his request was purely innocent. He was just doing what he usually did. I would not make an issue of it, no matter how difficult it made my vow. I grabbed the soap and lathered up my hands. His skin was warm and smooth as my hands glided effortlessly across his shoulder blades and down the valley of his spine. I stopped my hands when I reached his lower back, even though I could see the soft, white globes of his backside below the water’s surface.

I used the cup to rinse his back off, “All done, big guy. You want a bit more time to finish?”

Jem shook his head and stood up, giving me another glorious look at his little boyhood. “Nah. I’m wrinkling up. Mom helps me dry off.”

When he said that, I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eye. But as I gave him a second glance, it was gone or never there to begin with. Uncertain about that, I grabbed a towel and took to vigorously scrubbing his hair dry. Then I wadded it up and dabbed at his back before turning him around and doing the same to his chest and stomach. I ignored his middle, instead using the towel to dry his ankles up to just past his knees. He really was a very skinny boy. I doubt he weighed over sixty pounds. Also, I noticed how smooth were his ankles.

The youngest boy I loved had just turned twelve the first time we were together. And even though his plumbing was turned on, the rest of his secondary sexual characteristics lagged, and he was very smooth. Except for his ankles. Dark hair was replacing the near-clear vellus hairs around his ankles. Running my hands over Jem’s ankles, his vellus hair was sparse and nearly invisible to the naked eye and the inspection by my hands.

Of course, that was the observation of just a couple of seconds. When I finished with his knees, I held up the towel to him, “There you go, Jem. I think you can finish the last bits yourself.”

Jem didn’t say anything cheeky, he just took the towel and finished drying off. I was at the door before he finished, “I’ll leave it to you to finish dressing.”

I was both proud of myself for my self-restraint and also terrified my self-control would eventually crack. I couldn’t afford to let myself go with Jem. First, he was too young. Secondly, I didn’t want to lose everything I have built since arriving in Boulder. Over the past seven years, I’d built a nice nest-egg. Between my returns on my day-trades and selling market research to other investors, I was doing pretty good.

Jem came into the door of my bedroom. His hair stuck up, still wet. He looked incredibly cute in his little superman underroos. He said, “I brushed my teeth. Can we watch some more TV before bed? No school tomorrow.”

I nodded, “Sure, you want to find one of the movies and we can watch it in the living room?”

He glanced down. I could see he had something on his mind. “What’s wrong, bro?”

He grinned at the comment. “I like how you call me bro, buddy, and stuff. It makes me feel like we’re friends.”

I beckoned him into my room, and patted the space next to me, “We are, Jem. As much as we can be.”

He said, “It makes me feel like I’m not just some kid and that my parents didn’t just dump me on you.”

I told myself my vow wasn’t in danger as I pulled him into a hug. The way he responded, wrapping his arms around my neck, told me I’d chosen well. He needed my friendship while his parents tried to keep his world from going to hell.

We watched another movie in the living room and I tucked him under the covers and even gave him a kiss on the forehead before retreating back to my bedroom, where I grabbed a clean pair of underwear and headed to the bathtub.

I showered, which I strongly preferred over baths. I wasn’t strong enough for my thoughts to not return to Jem’s bath-time. Even though I preferred boys who could give me their seed, I couldn’t deny Jem’s cuteness. Of course, I’d never let myself touch him sexually. I didn’t need that complication. Still, thinking about him led to an erection. Long ago, I’d told myself my five or so inches had been one thing women wouldn’t like about me. I told myself they wanted big guys. And at seventeen, I already knew I’d never be that guy.

Now, just on the other side of thirty, I accepted my body as it was, just as I accepted I would always be a boy lover. Correction, I’d remain a celibate boy lover. One thing I had hoped for when I was seventeen is that my body would eventually fill out. I felt uncomfortable in gym class. All us boys were between fifteen and eighteen. Most of us had glory trails between our penises and our bellies. Some of us had nearly as much hair on our pits and chests as we had on our crotches. At seventeen, I had a few strands under my arms and nothing of note on my chest. My glory trail died out a couple of inches above my shaft. Even my legs weren’t very hairy.

And now, as I washed my body, not much had changed. I had a few more errant hairs under my arms and a few lonely strands around my nipples, but apart from that, I was smooth down to my pubic area, where my hair started. I glanced at my pubic area. Just above where my penis pointed straight at the wall, my pubic hair struggled to spread away from the base more than an inch or two in any direction.

When I was in college, I shaved my pubes. It really made me feel closer to the boys I loved back then. And during my first job, I even paid to for laser hair removal. Mark had loved how smooth I was; Just like him. God, how I wish he hadn’t bragged about us.

Now, in my early thirties, as I looked at the sparse hair over my erection, I wondered if I had fucked up getting the laser hair removal. Even though I had never sported a huge patch of curly pubes, ever since then, my hair had been sparser, straighter, and less coarse.

As the water poured over my body, I couldn’t shake Jem’s image from my mind. His adorable little cocklet was firmly embedded in my mind and soon I was stroking myself, feeling that familiar tingle thrumming along my penis until I felt my balls constrict. My knees threatened to buckle as I leaned against the shower tiles. The first blast of my ejaculate splattered the shower curtain with my cloudy seed. My dick kicked in my hand a half-dozen more times, each successive blast less powerful than the previous until that which remained slid down my fingers.

Guilt set in as I washed my ejaculate from my penis and hands and even from the shower curtain. Come on, Jack, I told myself, I vowed to hold the line. How can I do that if I’m beating off to this gorgeous boy?

After drying off, my penis was back to its normal size, not quite three shriveled inches. I slid on my underwear and then headed toward my bedroom.

Jem was lying on my bed when I walked into my room. He had managed to find the remote and was watching some show on the Cartoon Network. At least until I walked in. His young eyes raked themselves over me before he said, “You’re in your underwear.”

I wanted to ask him why he wasn’t asleep in the living room. After all, that’s where I left him.

Instead, I said, “So are you. What’s up? Problem with the couch?”

I slipped on my boxers, pulling them over my white underwear as Jem said, “Yeah. I got scared, Jack. I really don’t want to sleep alone. Can I sleep in here with you? Pretty please!”

I shook my head. We were both practically in just our underwear. “Do you think your mom and dad would want you sleeping in my bed?”

I could see the worry creeping into Jem’s eyes as he said, “I’ll tell them I slept on the couch.”

I warred with myself. Part of me wanted nothing more than to let him into my bed. Instead, I said, “It’s not just your parents, buddy. What would your friends think?”

The worry deepened as his brows creased, “Jack, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please don’t make me sleep alone.”

Seeing Jem’s genuine fear, I pointed toward my bed, “Fine. But no TV. Get your cute little butt into bed.”

A few minutes later, I turned the light out and crawled under the covers, hyperaware of the boy sharing the space. A moment later, I felt him against my arm. There was a childish giggle, followed by, “Do you really think I’ve got a cute butt?”

I groaned, “Good night, Jem.”

He giggled again, but at least he rolled away. A few minutes later, his soft snores confirmed he was asleep. It took a lot longer this second night before I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up on my back. During the night, Jem pushed the covers down. He had also cuddled next to me at some point. While he was also on his back, one of his legs now draped over one of mine.

That’s when I noticed, unlike the previous morning, my morning wood was in full form, pushing against my underwear. A moment later, I saw a protrusion poking from Jem’s red Superman underwear. Even though it wasn’t sticking out far, I recognized a boner.

As best as I could, I slid out from under Jem’s leg and quietly made my way to the bathroom. By the time I finished draining my bladder, things down below were back to normal. When I went back into the bedroom, Jem was stirring. He opened his eyes and saw me, “G’morning,” he mumbled.

I tousled his messy hair, “Good morning to you too. So, this morning, do you want cold milk and cereal or cereal and cold milk?”

Jem giggled until he realized what I had realized earlier. He saw his little erection creating a tent in his underroos, and almost immediately one of his hands sought to cover it. His rosy cheeks turned scarlet as he mumbled, “S-, sorry.”

I tried to make nothing of it, “No worries. Happens to every guy. Why don’t you go to the bathroom while I get breakfast served?”

He joined me in the kitchen, still wearing his underroos. Of course, I was still in just my boxers. As we ate, he said, “D-, does that happen to you, too?”

I nodded as I took a bite of cereal. “Yep. Your dad too.”

When he finished eating, he said, “Mom told me not to touch it when it happens. She hit my hand once in the bathtub.”

This surprised me. Wes and Donna struck me as typical progressive parents. Kind of the norm with the faculty at the college. Maybe she just wanted him to be older before discovering the pleasures his body had in store. I didn’t want to get involved in their parenting. Although I suppose I already was.

I said, “I’d suggest you not touch yourself when she’s around, Jem. Women can be weird about that.”

His face returned to that embarrassed hue as he said, “Do you, um, ever touch yours, Jack?”

I know my face turned red. I coughed. I really didn’t want to answer questions about our bodies. To be more truthful, I didn’t want to answer any question that could come back and bite me on the ass. I said, “Um, I’m not sure your parents want me answering questions about that stuff, Jem.”

Jem frowned, “I think Mom’s embarrassed about it. And Dad’s really busy with his job. Please.”

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table, “I don’t think so, buddy. They could get really upset with me if I told you things they didn’t agree with.”

Jem sighed, “Being a kid sucks sometimes.”

I chuckled as I tousled his hair again and cleaned up breakfast.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Confession of a Boy Lover – Chapter 2
By
Caliboy1991

About a month after the Nelsons moved in, there was a knock at my door. I marked the place on the PDF where I paused my reading. I stretched as I stood. Market research never stopped and wading through SARs, trying to glean information that would gain me an edge in the market was mentally exhausting.

When I got to the door, I glanced through the peep-hole. Donna stood outside. Curious about why my neighbor would knock, I opened the door. “Oh, hi Donna,” I said, more guardedly than I intended.

She put on a big smile, “Hi Jack. Wes and I are finally settled, and we wanted to invite you over for a barbeque this Saturday. Thought it would be fun to get to know the neighbors.”

Remembering my pledge to do my best to avoid the Nelsons, I said, “Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you guys, Donna. This Saturday? Hmm, I’m sorry, but I’ve got plans.”

Donna’s smile faded at my manufactured news, “Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that, Jack. My cousin’s going to be here from Denver, and she’s also single. The other folks are couples, and I just didn’t want Cindy to be ignored. Plus, did I mention, she’s quite a looker?”

I had dated a couple of times while in college, and liked girls my age well enough that I enjoy those occasions. My problem was, my deeper attractions, they just didn’t hold a candle to. I was going on four years since Mark and had done a decent job not feeding my addiction. Maybe spending a couple of hours with this Cindy girl would help me.

I pretended to hem and haw in front of Donna before finally saying, “Let me see if I can clear my calendar. I’d hate for your cousin to be the odd-girl-out.”

When Saturday evening arrived, I dressed in a blue polo shirt and khaki shorts and some leather sandals. I had just turned the lights out in the living room when my doorbell rang. Cindy was standing there. Unlike Carol’s red hair, she had auburn hair. She wore a sundress with yellow suns on a field of blue. Even though it was September, she could probably get away with it for another week or two. Holding her hand was Jem. His long strawberry blond hair had been under the care of a barber since I last saw him on move-in day. He grinned up at me, revealing a couple of missing baby teeth, and said, “Hi, Mr. Roberts. This is my Aunt Cindy!”

If it were possible, Cindy was even prettier than Carol. I manufactured a smile, told myself to enjoy it. Neither Cindy nor Jem heard the stress in my voice, “Hi!”

Funny how our minds work. Cindy was quiet and reserved, at least at first. And getting to know her over the course of the lawn party and dinner was actually a real treat. The handful of women I dated before, I dated because they intrigued me as people. They were actually interesting to talk to, to get to know. Of course, when I was alone, in the comfort of my dorm or apartment, they weren’t the images to which I masturbated. I reserved those thoughts for the boys I loved.

Now, living under an assumed identity, I needed to watch what I said. Over the years, I’ve developed a background that is close enough to what my life was like as a kid and college student that I wasn’t likely to slip up. And if I do, it won’t be over important details. That led me to asking Cindy more questions than she asked me. I learned she was twenty-four and just a couple of years out of college. She repped for a pharmaceutical company in Denver. She was between boyfriends at the time, and with all the long hours she worked, wasn’t too worried about settling down.

As she warmed up, it shouldn’t have been difficult drawing all of this out of her. However, Jem latched on to Cindy and at one point after dinner, he sat on her lap while we visited past twilight. When it was time to go, I wasn’t sure what to do. After all, this had just been a little dinner party for a few neighbors. Cindy helped me out by leaning in for a quick hug, “Thanks for the date, Jack. I enjoyed it. Maybe when I’m here in Boulder again we can hang out.”

I bobbed my head, “Yeah, for sure.”

We’d had a good time, but the distance was a serious impediment to doing more than just a causal date, and more importantly, she wasn’t my preferred demographic.

Before I stepped across the street, Jem came up and took Cindy’s hand and waved at me, “Bye Mister Jack! Thanks for coming!”

He was too adorable. After that, whenever he saw me, it was “Hi Mr. Jack!” in his soprano-childlike voice.

Over the next few months, even though the markets were terribly volatile, I made a few trades where I killed it, shorting some Nasdaq darlings. Things were going well for me. I waved when I saw any of the Nelsons, and they waved at me. My next run in with Jem came as winter belatedly left Boulder and gave way to our short spring.

I was returning home from a run to Trader Joe’s and had just turned onto our street. Jem was in the middle of the road, riding his bike. He was peddling as though his life depended on it, fairly flying as fast as his short, skinny legs could take him. Then I spied his target. He had set up a wooden ramp alongside the curb in front of his house. Having done the same dumbass move when I was around his age, I knew how it would end. Sure enough. When Jem hit the ramp, his bike went one way, tumbling end over end, and he went the other, rolling across the grass.

I stopped next to their curb and rolled down the window to the sound of Jem wailing. “Oh shit,” I muttered, as I climbed out of my car and hurried over to him. Kneeling down, I said, “You okay, little man?”

Jem cried and pointed to his knee. Blood seeped through a slight cut. Of course, when you’re eight and discover with disastrous consequences you’re not superman, the tears flow pretty easily. I had him sitting up when Donna came out the front door. She took one look at the ramp and the bike and fairly yelled, “What the hell? Jeremy Andre Nelson, what did I tell you about trying to jump our curb? Now look what you’ve done. You’ve got Jack over here trying to help you and blocking traffic!”

Involuntarily, I glanced toward the road. The only traffic was my car. Still, never get between an irate parent and their kid if there’s no abuse. I helped Jem to his feet as he continued sniffling. When I got him to the front door, Donna opened it, “The bathroom is down the front hall, by Jem’s room.”

I had expected to turn the boy over to his mom. After all, I was committed to having nothing more to do with the boy than minimal social standards required. And damnit, Donna shouldn’t have expected this. Still, I helped him into the bathroom, with the boy hobbling along beside me, his hand grabbing my shirt to keep himself from falling. Of course, had he tried to stand on his injured leg, I bet he could have walked just fine.

I picked him up and set him down on the countertop next to the sink, “Where’s the stuff to clean this up?”

Donna was standing at the bathroom door with an amused expression. “There’s wash towel in the top drawer. There’s some antiseptic there too.”

I wetted the washrag and dabbed at the cut until the blood was gone. After all, it wasn’t deep at all. Then I smeared a bit of ointment on it before finding the band-aids in another drawer. After I applied the covering, Jem had stopped crying, and he glanced down at his knee, “T-, thanks Mr. Jack. You’re awesome.”

He shocked me and I almost hyperventilated when, as he scooted off the counter, he threw his arms around my neck and gave me a fierce little hug. He ran from the bathroom past his mom, all thought of pain in his knee forgotten. Donna said, “Thanks, Jack. He can be a real handful sometimes. But he’s a real good kid.”

I followed her back to the front door and said, “He gets that from the two of you.”

Donna laughed, but I could tell I hit a nerve. “Yeah. I’m here every moment I can manage. Wes… Well, he does what he can when he’s here.”

You’d think after knowing them for the better part of a school year, I’d realize how often Wes’s car was gone. But until Donna said something, I missed that little detail. “Well, he’s got a wonderful mom, anyway.”

Donna chuckled, “Maybe. But thankfully, he’s got a neighbor who’s looking after him too.”

I headed back to my car where I got in and pulled the car into the garage. As I unloaded the car, I wondered why the hell I had stopped to help. Clearly Jem hadn’t needed my help. He was doing what boys his age do, being theatrical. I made another vow to stay clear of Jem. I really didn’t need the headache of falling for another kid who was unattainable. Or if not unattainable, the risks and the rewards were clearly disproportionate.

Over the summer, Donna and I talked when we saw each other. Even Wes, when I saw him, was friendly and a pretty funny guy. My earlier pledge to avoid talking to Jem died the death of a thousand cuts. Jem made a point of coming over to me, when he saw me coming back home from some errand if he was outside. It was always just a “Hi, Mr. Jack. How is your day? Mine’s good too,” type thing.

During the third school year following the Nelson’s arrival across from me, I paid more attention. Wes appeared to be working even longer hours, which I found odd for a college professor. One evening while it was still light outside, I was clearing some brush and weeds from a small flower garden in front of my house. The moment I realized something wasn’t quite right, I heard a now familiar voice, “Hi Jack. How’s your gardening?”

I felt something in my stomach, like the flutter of a butterfly. I ignored it as I turned. Jem was still in his school uniform. His hair was getting shaggy again. Of course, with summer less than two months away, I doubted he’d get it cut before the fall. He grinned as I looked up at him from where I knelt. He would be ten in a few weeks. Inwardly, I sighed. I knew I needed to avoid this pedophilic catnip named Jem. I patted the ground and said, “Just clearing some weeds. I’m thinking about planting some flowers.”

The past three years had flown by, I realized, as I studied the boy beside me. He had grown a lot, now he was just a couple of inches shy of four and a half feet. Some ways, he hadn’t changed. His legs and arms were spindly. If I didn’t know Donna, I’d have sworn she was starving the boy.

Jem picked up a plastic trash bag and helped by taking the weeds I had already pulled and tossed them in. We worked silently for a bit until a door slammed from the boy’s house. Donna stalked out and in the middle of the driveway yelled, “The fuck you say? That’s not my goddamned perfume, you son of a bitch.”

She flung the car door open, and a then slammed it shut with an earth-shattering echo. A moment later, she zoomed by us without a sideway glance.

I looked over at my little helper. Tears were brimming his eyes. I knew better than to touch him. Even as my resolve to avoid him had long-since failed, the one thing I had done was avoid physical contact. Yet, as tears spilled down his cheeks, I reached out an arm and gave him a hug.

The dam broke, and those tears turned into body-wracking sobs. Every minute or two Jem tried to speak, “They-, they’ve been arguing.”

“I-, I hear them at night, s-, sometimes.”

“Mom thinks Dad’s ch-cheating.”

I didn’t have any words of comfort. And I mourned for him. Strange that I’m the one who’s life was ruined by loving a boy and trying to give him what he wanted. But millions of parents drag their kids through horrible marriages and messy divorces, fucking up their kids far worse than I ever could. And society thinks I’m a bad person? Fucking ridiculous.

After he stopped crying, I helped him to his feet, “Come on, we’re losing our light. Let’s go check on your dad.”

I knocked on the Nelson’s front door. A moment later, Wes came to it. In one hand was a cell phone and in the other was a short glass with amber liquid in it. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, “Oh, Hi Jack.”

Then his eyes fell on his son, “Oh, Jem. I thought your mom took you after we, um, well, when she left.”

Jem shook his head as tears beaded in his eyes. I said, “Sorry about that, Wes. Jem was helping me with my garden out front.”

Wes shrugged, and he slurred his words, “Don’t worry, son. This’ll blow over and your mom will be okay.”

The agony in the boy’s eyes hurt my soul. I knew I needed distance right now, so I said, “Wes, take care of yourself and Jem.”

I was halfway down the Nelson’s drive when Jem’s clear soprano voice cut through the dark, “Stop, Jack! Please.”

I turned around and Jem had stepped away from his father. “Dad, I want to stay at Jack’s tonight.” He punctuated his words by pointing the cell phone in Wes’s hand and the glass of whisky in the other.

Wes’s shoulders slumped. He seemed a defeated man, “Fine.”

Jem shot me a pleading look before he said, “I’ll get my things!” Then he shot past his father into the house. I needed to stop this. Having Jem in the house was the exact opposite of what I needed. If society knew my past, they would tar and feather me to even allow a boy under the same roof.

I came over to Wes, intending to kill the idea. Wes took a drink and before I could explain why this was a bad idea, he said, “Thanks, Jack. I know our problems aren’t yours. You’re a good man to help right now.”

“What?” I stammered, “Jem really belongs with you or Donna.”

Wes shrugged, “What’s it matter? I’ve gotta call Cindy back and warn her about Donna.”

With that, he turned and left me standing in an open doorway. A minute later, Jem came out, a school backpack tossed over one shoulder. He took my hand and pulled me back toward my house. Alarmed at the circumstances, I let him lead the way while considered alternatives.

Once we were inside, I got him settled in front of the TV before asking, “Do you have a cell phone, Jem?”

The boy shook his head, “No. Mom says I’m too young.”

While a cell phone with his mom’s number would have been handy right then, in general, I agreed with Donna. I asked, “Do you know your mom’s cell phone number?”

He nodded and repeated it for memory for me. A moment later, I dialed the number. It went directly to voice mail. “Shit!”

Jem looked up, a scared expression on his face. Worried I had startled him unnecessarily, I came over and sat beside him, and put my arm around his thin, narrow shoulders. “Not you, Jem. Just trying to let your mom know where you are.”

He leaned against me, “Thanks, Jack.”

The emotional turmoil was severe for the boy, and soon Jem’s eyes were drooping. I set him back against the seatback cushions and took my phone into the bedroom where I tried again to call Donna. This time, the phone rang and rang until it went to voice mail, I said, “Donna, this is Jack. Please call me as soon as you get this message. Jem is over here with me. But I want to get him back with one of you as soon as possible.”

It was nearing ten in the evening when Jem padded into my room. Donna still hadn’t called, and I was worried. Still, Jem needed at least one strong person in his life right then. “Hey Jem. Let’s get you ready for bed. Do you mind sleeping on the couch? I can put some covers on it.”

He nodded and followed me back into the living room. I pointed to his backpack, “Do you have a change of clothes in there?”  

He nodded, and I grabbed it and said, “I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

With this nine, almost ten-year-old standing beside me, I dug out a pair of pajamas, “Once you’ve changed, head on back into the living room. I’ll get you squared away in there.”

While I was waiting in the living room, my phone rang. When I answered it, Donna said, “Oh, thank God you have Jem. I’m such a fucking idiot. He’s got to think both of his parents are dumbasses.”

I made a non-committal noise, waiting for her to say something productive.

She said, “I drove all the way to fucking Denver, Jack. I was so mad at Wes that I drove here to kick my cousin’s ass. What the fuck was I thinking?”

I said, “Well, you were pissed, and you had a right to be angry. Anyway, Jem will be relieved to know you’re okay and ready to pick him up.”

There was an awkward silence from the other end. I added, “When do you think you’ll get here?”

Donna’s laugh was brittle, like she was at the end of her tether. “When I got into Denver, instead of finding my cousin, I found a bar. I’m actually calling you from the motel next to it. I’m too fucked up to drive back tonight. Do you mind letting Jem stay with you tonight?”

Jem chose that moment to return from the bathroom. He wore The Incredible Hulk pajamas. I said, “Yeah. He can stay. He’s right here. Why don’t you tell him good night? He wants to know you’re safe.”

With that, I handed Jem my phone. He picked it up, and the tears flowed again, “M-, mom! Are you okay?”

I couldn’t hear Donna’s voice, but the tears streaking Jem’s face broke my heart. He deserved better of his parents than they were giving him that night.

“Yeah. I told Dad I wanted to stay with Jack. He was drinking.”

This was going to be a long night. I normally just slept in my underwear. It was comfortable and as a bachelor, who did I have to impress. Now, I’d need to find some shorts, maybe a t-shirt.

“Tomorrow? Okay.” Then Jem handed the phone back to me. “She wants to talk to you.”

I put the phone to my ear, “Yeah?”

Donna said, “Thanks a million, Jack. I’ll be home sometime around noon tomorrow. I’ll be by to pick him up after that.”

I hung up the call after forced pleasantries and turned to Jem, “Alright. Did you remember your toothbrush?”

He shook his head, “Darn. I knew I forgot something.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember to brush extra good tomorrow. Now let’s get you under the covers and ready for bed.”

Jem looked cute lying under the makeshift covers on the couch. I wished then that I could be the kind of adult who could help someone like him without the complications of my attractions. He really needed someone other than his parents he could rely on, and that person definitely shouldn’t be me.

“Good night, Jem,” I said as I knelt next to him.

The boy offered me a sad smile, “Good night, Jack. Thanks for everything.”

He caught me by surprise when his arms looped around my neck and hugged me fiercely. Once he let go, he sank back against the sofa. I turned out the light in the living room, leaving the bathroom light on and the door ajar.

I wasn’t as emotionally worn as Jem, but I was still tired. I found an old pair of boxers and slid them on over my underwear when I undressed for bed. It was better than just my underwear, in the off-chance the boy wondered into my room during the night.

A few minutes after laying my head on my pillow, I was fast asleep.

It wasn’t even light outside when I became aware I was not alone in my bed. Lying against my side was a smaller form. Cursing inside my head, I turned the lamp on my nightstand on, and saw Jem’s little form curled up against me, his back against my side. A faint snore told me he was still asleep. Wondering how long he had slept in my bed, I glimpsed the time on my alarm clock. It was a few minutes before five.

Even though I knew the right thing was to pick him up and carry him back into the other room, I was tired. I killed the light and rolled onto my side, facing away from Jem. I closed my eyes, knowing it would take forever before I fell back asleep. But within a few minutes I was asleep again.

When I woke up, sunlight peeked through my curtains. At some point in the morning, Jem had shifted in his sleep. His front was against my back and a twig of an arm was draped across my chest. I rolled onto my back and felt a sense of relief. Most mornings I woke up with my morning wood. This morning, perhaps from the stress, maybe from something else, my midsection was remarkably disinterested in the fact I had a nearly-ten-year-old boy in my bed.

Jem stirred once I was on my back. He blinked himself awake until he swiveled his head around, taking in me and the rest of his surroundings. His voice was like magic, pitched high like so many preadolescent boys, “Sorry about coming in here last night. When I woke up and was all alone, I got scared. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” I said, wanting to reach out and hold on to the boy. Not trusting myself, I slid out of bed, “I don’t mind, Jem. But maybe it would be best if anyone asks, that you let them know you staying on the couch last night.”

As I pulled on a T-shirt, I saw his cognitive wheels turning until he nodded, “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Jem didn’t ask any questions about that, and I certainly wouldn’t explain further. Instead, I headed into the kitchen. “You hungry, man? I got cold cereal and milk, or milk and cold cereal.”

Jem followed me into the kitchen, “I guess cold cereal and milk.”

I caught his smile as he deliberately mixed up the options. Over the years, Donna bragged on Jem, telling me how smart he was. I could see that native intelligence in his eyes as I grabbed milk from the fridge and cold cereal from the pantry.

After eating, Jem leaned his elbows on the table. His reddish blonde bangs hung down, brushing his thin eyebrows of the same color. His eyes, normally the color of emerald, were more like a stormy, green sea as his lips turned down, “Do you think my parents are going to divorce?”

In our day and age, what kid doesn’t know about divorce? The lucky ones never see the hard work that goes into a successful marriage or the silent disagreements their parents manage to keep from impacting their kids’ lives. Jem’s safe and secure world was crumbling around him and I wanted to reach out and hold him, tell him things would be okay. Even though I have spent more time with him over the previous day than I had over the previous three years, I knew it was best for both of us for me to reign in my wreck of emotions and not let myself get so close to him that I slip.

I said, “I don’t know. They need time to work things out. It’s hard to figure out when you’re nine… excuse me, nearly ten, but try to show them both you love them while giving them a bit of space.”

He cocked a skeptical eye at me, “That’s like doing two opposite things at the same time.”

I nodded, “Yeah. They’re mutually exclusive.”

Jem mouthed the words, as though applying them to his memory.

I bussed the table and said, “Why don’t you get dressed. I need to run to the nursery and look for some flowers, I’ll call your mom.”

Donna picked up on the second ring, “Hi Jack. How was Jem?”

I was heading back to my bedroom and turned to see the boy. He had pulled off his green Hulk top. To go along with his too-skinny arms and legs, his chest was thin and milky white. I turned back around and continued toward my bedroom, “Yeah, he’s doing okay. Worried about you and Wes.”

“He’s not the only one,” she said with a worried tone.

Knowing it wasn’t my place to intrude, I focused on the reason I called, “I’m heading out to get some flowers for that empty spot in front of my kitchen window. I wanted to see if you wanted me to send Jem home to his dad or if it’s okay for him to come with me.”

Donna let out a nervous chuckle, “Thanks for calling to ask. I just got off the phone with Wes when you called. I’m heading back to the house in a bit and we’re going to talk about… ah, things. I really hate to impose, but do you think it would be okay if Jem hung out with you until this evening? I’ll come and get him sometime between six and eight. If that’s okay with you. I hate to fuck up your day.”

I glanced at the door as I said, “I guess it’s okay. Jem’s not going to fuck up my day. You’ve got a good kid there, Donna. You and Wes focus on yourselves today. Go figure things out.”

On the other end of the connection, Donna sighed, “God, Jack. You’re a life saver. Thanks.”

When the call ended, I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I was down to my underwear when Jem came around the corner. His eyes went wide as he gasped, “Oops!” and turned his back on me as I hustled into my jeans. Once I was done, I said, “Sorry about that, Jem. That’s on me. I should have closed the door. Not used to having houseguests.”

He turned around as I wrestled my shirt over my head. His cheeks were rosier than normal as he said, “It’s okay. I’ve seen my dad naked before. You’re not as hairy as him.”

I was a bit taken aback at Jem’s observation. I knew he wasn’t checking me out. Kids his age are just observant and tend to say whatever comes to mind.

Growing up in suburban Georgia, I had always felt I was a bit behind the curve developmentally. It was probably one reason my self-esteem wasn’t very high. I didn’t have many friends when I was started going through puberty, and it was worse, I think, because I was probably close to a year behind other boys my age when I started.

My best friend at that time was Jack Toliver. His mom and my mom were best friends, and we were actually next-door neighbors. Jack was several years older than me and had actually baby-sat me until I was old enough to not need a sitter. I was pretty close with Jack and confided in him about how these uncertainties made me feel. He told me he knew how I felt and even gave me a big hug and helped me feel better. A couple of weeks later, he invited me to spend the night over at his place. If our moms hadn’t been best of friends, and if the two of us weren’t as close as we were, it would have been awkward for a seventeen-year-old to invite a twelve-year-old for a sleep-over. The night of our sleep-over, we locked his bedroom door and as we discussed my body, we were soon naked, sitting on his bed. He was already fully grown at seventeen. His hairy penis was six inches when erect, while my little three inches left me feeling terribly inadequate. That’s when he taught me it wasn’t the size of the boat that mattered, but the motion of the ocean.

That night, Jack introduced me to mutual masturbation and oral sex. Even though all I could do was dry cum, he made me feel good about it.

After that, Jack and I had several more sleep overs until he graduated from high school and headed off to college at the end of the year. I had all my firsts with Jack. My first dry orgasm, my first wet one too. Getting oral sex for the first time, and giving it too. He taught me how to swallow his cum and even enjoy it. He even took my virginity when he fucked me. I thought we were in love, but when he went to college we quickly drew apart.

The biggest thing Jack helped me with was feeling better about my body, even though I wasn’t the tallest, strongest or biggest. By the time I was seventeen, I was still a few inches short of six feet, but was resigned to not growing taller. Also, I told myself it was normal to only be five inches when hard. And it was okay only having a few wayward wisps around my nipples and under my arms.

Looking back on it, I’m pretty sure I was trying really hard to feel okay about a body that I felt didn’t measure up, and that’s why when I was seventeen, what I learned from Jack, I paid forward to Ethan. Ethan was a boy in my scout troop. He was thirteen and on the small side. We were on a camping trip and as things sometimes happen, we were both naked in our tent in the wee-hours of the night. That first time, we just jacked each other off. But on subsequent camp-outs, we traded blowjobs. That’s when I discovered that Ethan at thirteen, his cum tasted better than Jack’s, at seventeen.

Looking at Jem, framed in the doorway of my bedroom, I said, “Well, we’re all guys, right? We’ve all got the same plumbing.”

The boy giggled and nodded. We spent the rest of the morning at the nursery picking out greenery for the flower bed. He had a good eye for flowers and enjoyed picking them up and smelling them. When we returned home, Jem stared at his house. Both cars were in the drive. I came over to him and put a hand around his shoulder, as he said, “You think they’re fighting?”

I guided him toward the house, “Dunno. Let’s eat, then we’ll do some gardening.”

Jem and I had finished planting the flowers and were drowning them in an appropriate amount of water when we saw Donna and Wes coming across the street. The sun was well on its way through the western sky. Jem’s jeans were dirty and there were streaks of dirt across his shirt and face, but until he glimpsed his parents, he’d been pleasant company. His smile faded as the two came up my drive.

Donna and Wes weren’t holding hands, but they also weren’t staring daggers at each other. Wes held back, clearly uncomfortable while Donna stepped forward, “Goodness, Jem. You look like quite the gardener. Are you having a good time?”

Jem was guarded when he came over to his mom, “Yeah. Me and Jack planted the entire garden,” his hand swept behind him at the narrow flower bed next to my porch.

Donna came over and oohed and aahed. Then she said, “Jem, can you give me and your father a moment with Jack?”

Curious, I followed the boy’s parents back down to the street where Donna, still in charge of things, said, “Wes and I really owe you for helping out.”

Wes finally spoke, “Yeah, Jack. Thanks for not pointing out what an ass I was last night.”

I shrugged. What could I say? “No problem, guys. If my ass was in a bind, I hope you’d do the same. That’s what friends are for.”

Donna offered a weary grin, “We really appreciate it, and that’s why we hate imposing further. It’s just that Wes and I need a bit more time this evening and with it being a weekend and all, was hoping we could impose on you one more night.”

I glanced up the drive. Jem stood next to the porch, holding the water-hose. He was absentmindedly watering the grass, his eyes focused on us. I knew it was best for all of us for me to refuse. If the past twenty-four hours had taught me anything, it was I liked his company, and I doubted it was healthy for either of us.

“Sure,” I said, ignoring the voice of reason in my head, “You guys take care of yourselves. Jem can stay over again.”

I glanced up again. Jem really was a mess. His clothes were dirty, and it looked like he got more mulch on him than he did the flower garden. I said, “He really has been a big help today, but like most kids his age, I think he got more dirt on him than he did the flowers. Do you mind if I send him back to get cleaned up?”

Donna looked embarrassed, “Oh, we made reservations at a restaurant. We’re a couple of minutes late already. Do you mind giving him a bath?”

My eyes grew round. I think Donna realized how she framed her question and she said, “Oh, Jem can handle most of it himself. But he needs help with his hair and back.”

What was I getting myself into? I nodded, “Sure, Donna. Now, go on, you two. I don’t want you losing your reservation.”

With that, Donna and Wes waved up at Jem, “We’ll see you tomorrow!”

I watched them get in Donna’s car. As they pulled out of the drive, I felt Jem’s hand slide into mine. “Where are they going?”

 I squeezed his hand a little, “Out to eat. I think they need more time to talk this evening. You okay spending the night again?”

He looked up and smiled, “Yeah.” As we walked back up the drive, I rested my hand on his back as he walked a bit closer to me.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Confession of a Boy Lover – Chapter 1
By
Caliboy1991

I stretched, leaning back in my office chair, listening to the creaking of the metal hinges. I grabbed the mouse and clicked on the save button. I’d look at the trades tomorrow morning, like usual. Working out the math is easier when I’m fresh.

I was about to close the laptop when I noticed the little icon on the desktop. My finger itched to click on it, to enter the password to decrypt it and go back online. I let out a frustrated sigh and closed the laptop harder than intended. I would not go back down that road. Not now. Things were going well for me and there wasn’t any reason to fuck it up, again.

I rolled the chair away from the desk and headed into the kitchen. My fridge looked like most other bachelors’ fridges. There was Chinese takeout and a pizza box mixed in among the beer bottles. I grabbed a cold one and a cold slice of pizza and went into the living room. The spartan room held my TV and a La-Z Boy recliner. Not much to show, but my needs weren’t very high either. I planned on adding furniture when needed. After catching a half-hour of Dr. Phil, I still had most of my beer left, although the pizza box could be thrown away. I grabbed it and headed toward the front door. I stored the Water and Sewer Co-op’s garbage bin on the side of the house. As I walked across the driveway, I saw a moving van parked in front of the house across the street. It had been empty since I moved in a few months earlier.

I frowned as a guy with platinum gold hair climbed onto the back of the van and opened the sliding door. A few years before, I’d have called him a yuppie. Now, he looked like most of the folks who lived on the street. Comfortably middle-class. A woman with red hair, dressed in the same designer clothes, yelled, “Wes, we’re paying good money to have the movers carry this stuff in. Can’t you let them do their job?”

The yuppie said, “They’re taking too damn long, Donna. We’ve still got to unpack everything tonight.”

Donna, it seemed reasonable to assume that was her name, said, “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure they put the bedroom furniture together first.”

A kid came up beside Donna. I didn’t give him a second look, until the woman said, “Dammit, Jem, please stay out of the road.” With that, she turned away from her husband and shooed the boy back into the yard.

I dropped the pizza box in the trash bin and with an unhappy sigh, walked back toward my front door. I stopped when Donna waved. I really wanted to ignore them. Pretend the house across the street was still empty. I wished I had finished that beer as I woodenly responded by waving back. Donna was halfway into the street, “Hi. We’re the Nelsons. This sure looks like a friendly neighborhood.”

I plastered a wooden smile onto my face and ambled down to the street, I offered my hand, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Mrs. Nelson. I’m Jack. If you’ve gotta work in Boulder, this is as nice a place to live as you could want.”

Donna shook my hand. For a woman, she had a good handshake. Confident. “Wes, he’s the lovable goof-ball over there, works for U of Colorado.”

The kid had followed his mom into the street. Donna swiveled around, “What did I tell you, Jem, about coming out into the street?”

She grabbed the boy’s hand. I tried to hide my frustration. With the boy standing right in front of me, he was hard to ignore. I was an expert at gaging a boy’s age. Jem was probably seven. Maybe four feet, perhaps a bit less. I doubt he weighed fifty pounds, soaking wet. His hair is what you’d expect if you mixed platinum blonde and red together. It was a strawberry blond color that came to just above his collar.

He looked up at me with expressive emerald eyes and gave a timid wave.

Donna said, “And this is Jem, of course. He’ll be in the second grade when school starts up in a few weeks.”

My instincts told me to ignore the boy. Still, I hated being needlessly rude. I bent over and said, “Hi Jem. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

When he blinked, I noticed the long, feminine eyelashes as he said in a cherubic, high-pitched voice, “Hi. Do you have kids my age?”

I shook my head, “Sorry to say, no.”

Donna said, “Once we get settled, maybe we can stop by and say hello to you and your wife.”

I shook my head. She added, “Husband?”

I chuckled, “Sorry to say, I’m single. Now if perhaps you have a single-sister, I’d be happy to have you guys come visit.”

Donna laughed, and we parted company. Once the door was closed and chained, I took my bottle back to my room and finished it off. I turned the light off and fell into my bed as my memories came back and haunted me.

***

Seven years earlier, I was a recent college grad, working my first job in Atlanta. I was happily working as an investment broker. I had been lucky enough to get hired by a guy who had been in the industry for twenty-five years. He hired me because even in college I had been a whiz at numbers and had head for reading trend lines and market research.

I was living in an apartment complex near the downtown area. It was in a neighborhood trying to gentrify itself, and our complex was a mixture of upwardly mobile single people like me and section eight vouchers like Bev and Mark. Mark was twelve when we met, and as a boy without a father, he was quick to befriend me. Of course, that was his biggest mistake. How could this twelve-year-old boy know I was a boy-lover? By the time I was twenty-three, I had fooled around with five other boys since turning eighteen.

And when Mark latched on to me, I was smitten. His brown locks and gorgeous brown eyes drew me in like nothing else. When I wasn’t honing my skills in the market, I was doing everything I could to manipulate things at home to see him and to have Bev trust me. It was easy. Mark worshipped the ground I walked on. Within a month of me moving into their apartment complex, Mark was spending Friday evenings over at my place, playing on my game console.

Two months in, and Bev came over one afternoon and asked if I could watch Mark for the weekend. Of course, I agreed. That Friday night, when he didn’t have to go home, he and I watched one of the Lord of the Ring movies on my TV in my bedroom. He didn’t question why watch a TV in my bedroom when I had a TV in the living room. If anything, he liked it as he cuddled next to me and watched Middle-Earth burn. He snuggled closer when I put my arm around him and pulled him into a hug and told me how much he liked being with me. When the movie was over, I offered to let him sleep in bed with me if he wanted. He did.

We stripped down to our underwear and soon he cuddled against me as both of us were nearly naked. Being what I was, I hugged him to me and it wasn’t long before I felt his little erection poking against me. When I brushed my hand at where he touched me, I felt him through his underwear and he jerked back, mortified I had noticed his stiffy.

I wrapped my arms around the boy and told him it was okay. In fact, it was entirely normal. Mollified, Mark resumed snuggling against my body. That night was hard for me, but intuition told me to not push. In fact, the next morning, Mark behaved as though he hadn’t poked me with his boner. The second night, when it was time to watch a movie, he didn’t blink about watching it in bed with me. He even let me take his clothes off. I think by then he knew I was into him, after all, I had breached his boundaries the previous night.

The second night, he was just as affectionate, snuggling into me. He didn’t flinch when my hand slid inside his underwear and rubbed his butt. From there, it was just a matter of sliding his underwear off and admiring his four and a half inches. The only time he protested was when I was sucking on his erection. I’d been sucking on him for a couple of minutes. He pushed on my shoulders, “Ryan, S-, stop! I’m about to pee!”

Knowing better than him what was to come, I redoubled my efforts and sucked on his throbbing stiffy all the way to his orgasm. He stopped trying to push me away, leaning into me while his stiffy shuddered and spasmed. He squirted a couple of blasts of his boy juice into my eager mouth. He was young enough his semen tasted as sweet as it did salty. None of that cloying bitterness that comes with latter adolescence was present.

By the next morning, he was mostly back to normal. By the next week, when Friday came around again, he was entirely back to normal. Even though he couldn’t stay late, that didn’t stop me from getting him into my bedroom where I stripped him and sucked him to another orgasm.

Things might have continued like that, except he bragged about getting a blow-job at school to one of his friends. Word got around and the inevitable happened. I was picked up on my way home from work by the Atlanta police department. Despite pressure from the state, neither Bev nor Mark cooperated with the prosecution. Of course, when it comes to illicit sex, the state will still prosecute. The state of Georgia offered me ten years of probation and a life-time on the sex offender registry.

Without a chance in hell of beating the charges, I accepted a plea that kept me out of prison. Unfortunately, I lost my investor’s license and my job. I was reduced to moving out and working temp jobs at call centers.

A year of this hell and I knew I’d never make it through ten years of probation. Using resources I found on the dark-web, I squirreled enough money together to buy a new identity. One night, I got into my still new BMW, the only thing I had held on to from my pre-arrest, drove it into the Chattahoochee River. I climbed out, changed into some dry clothes and caught a bus across town to the Gray Hound station. As far as I was concerned, Ryan Bennett died the night he drove drunk into the river. Jack Roberts was four states away before the authorities managed to pull the car from the river. Bottles of Whisky were the only suicide note I left behind. Still, it was enough. After dredging the river for a couple of days, the authorities began the process of declaring me legally dead.

I swore off boys from then on. Letting my predilections get the best of me would only net me more trouble. I read up on treatment programs and downloaded tools to help me manage my attractions, while steering clear of shrinks or others who were required to report.

Starting over was hard. Getting a job didn’t take long. There are always jobs in call centers and retail, but I lived like a beggar the first year, saving money and establishing a credit history for Jack Roberts. I opened a brokerage account under my new identity and gradually fed money from each paycheck into it, watching the balance grow month by month.

Within two years from leaving Atlanta, I moved from Dallas, from Des Moines and from Topeka. I arrived in Boulder at twenty-eight. After four years, I felt like my life was going the right direction. Through hard work, in-depth research and strategic buys and sells, I had finally reached a balance in my brokerage account where I was comfortable enough to draw a small amount each month while it still grew year by year.

Three years after arriving in Boulder, as I lay on my bed, I seriously considered selling my house and moving a fourth time. I have never touched a boy as young as seven, but the problem with boys that age is that they eventually grow up into boys that I find attractive.

Things might have turned out differently had I acted on that impulse. But this was 2009. The housing market had imploded, and I owed more than the house was worth. Also, I really liked Boulder. It was funky in a fun sort of way. Also, after being in this town for three years, I’d finally stopped looking over my shoulder, worried the state of Georgia was just jerking my chain and might still be looking for me. Normalcy was my friend, and so I vowed to ignore the family to the best of my ability. And to pretend Jem didn’t exist.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved