UPS delivered the two remaining packages, following the instructions I had given to leave them at the door. Shoes came a day late on Tuesday - I was getting pretty nervous about them, thinking I might have to make moccasins out of my leather jacket somehow, but the jacket was saved.
The first outfit was a pair of jean shorts, a white short-sleeved shirt with some kind of airplane design on the front, and some more plain white underwear. The underwear was a little plainer than I expected, though. The waistband was very thin, as was the fabric, and there was no fly in front - sort of like panties, but the label clearly stated that they were for boys. They were very comfortable, though, and I looked very good in them, if I do say so myself.
The second outfit was dressier, some long khaki slacks and a long- sleeved, blue dress shirt. I also got a braided belt to go with it, and a pair of boxer shorts. I had thought that the boxers would be plain white, but in fact they had little cartoon designs all over them; they were also shorter than I expected them to be - that's what you get when you buy stuff on the Internet.
I spent several hours posing in front of the mirror in all three outfits and thought I looked pretty good in all of them, except for the fact that my hair was way too long. I needed to get a proper boy's style, but David would be expecting it to be this length, so I decided to leave it as it was for the time being. If Mr. Comfort was any guide, people would just assume I was a girl with my hair like this, and that was fine with me; I didn't care what they thought.
I finally put on the blue short-sleeved shirt, yellow shorts, and red hat (worn backwards, of course). The hat would help keep the hair out of my eyes; it was a windy day. I waited again until no one was around and went outside. I realized I was carrying way too many keys and went back in, keeping only the house key. I lost the wallet, too; kids don't carry them, and I wasn't going to be using my driver's license or credit cards.
I almost missed the bus. I didn't really know how to get to the downtown Galleria without driving, but I figured that all the trains and buses go downtown, so it wouldn't be a problem, and it really wasn't. I knew there was a bus that ran nearby, and like I figured, it went to a train station, and the train went downtown, no problem. I had to pay two dollars for the fare since I didn't have change. The driver seemed annoyed with me. I took a seat by the window near the back. I opened the window and enjoyed the wind blowing through my hair.
I didn't really notice when three boys took seats near me. One of them actually sat next to me, though the bus was half-empty. I did notice when he put his arm across the seat behind me. I noticed more when he started fingering my hair.
"I'm Jon, what's your name?" he asked, an adolescent crackle in his voice.
I looked at him with scorn. Black jean shorts, baggy, below his knees, black t-shirt with the emblem of some rock band I'd never heard of, black leather jacket with chains all over it. Black spiky hair and light brown eyebrows. Two earrings in each ear. He was loathsome. "Chrissie - and I'm ten," I said icily. I turned around and lifted his arm from behind me, throwing it in his lap. It was heavier than I expected.
The boys across the aisle laughed. "Hey, Jon's got a 10-year-old girlfriend," one of them said.
"Fuck that," Jon replied, recovering quickly, "pussy's pussy." He put his arm back behind me again. "Some 10-year-old girls are hot for it. Are you hot for it, Chrissie? Do I make your little titties all hard?" He reached out and squeezed my nipple.
I batted his hand away quickly. "Get away from me!" I hissed, but it came out as a whine.
"Or what?" he said, grinning fiercely. I realized that he didn't really want me any more now that he knew my age, but he wasn't going to back down either. I had gotten between a teenage boy and his ego, which is a dangerous place to be. He leaned over and nuzzled my hair, holding me to him with the arm that had been behind my back. I looked down and realized that in this shirt, when I was sitting down at least, it did sort of appear that I had buds, but of course it was just baby fat.
I perhaps waited too long before I said it, but finally I pushed him away as hard as I could and shrieked, "Get away from me, you creep!", as loud as possible.
"That old bus driver don't care," Jon said with a smirk.
"But I do," said a man sitting behind us. "The girl said to leave her alone."
Well, Jon took one look at him and decided his odds were better elsewhere. One of his friends rang the bell, and they got off at the next stop.
My savior came and sat next to me. "You OK, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking my hair.
"Yes," I said, wiping tears of relief out of my eyes. Although I lived in what was politely called a "gentrifying" neighborhood, I had never thought that I would risk being raped riding a bus.
"Here," he said, dabbing my eyes with his handkerchief. Of course, his arm was behind me now. "Where you going, Chrissie?"
"The Galleria, I'm meeting a friend there."
"You need to watch out for those boys, they're trouble." I just nodded. "You did the right thing, shouting like that. If you have a problem, just scream as loud as you can, and somebody will help you. I'll ride with you to the station."
"OK," I said, smiling briefly at him and looking out the window again. The idea that, if I was in trouble, all I could do was scream and hope somebody would help me, was new and definitely unwelcome. I needed to move to a better neighborhood, which was of course impossible, or at least get a can of mace - also probably impossible. Unconsciously, I put my legs together and folded my hands in my lap. He stroked my hair, but evidently saw that I didn't want to talk to him. Good as his word, he stayed with me to the train station. I felt very self- conscious as I walked past him to get off the bus; I could feel his eyes on my back, but I turned and waved to him anyway as I stepped off.
I walked up to the train station and bought a ticket. If anything, this was a worse part of town than where I came from. I was able to buy the ticket with no trouble, however. The transit agency actively advertised to kids too young to drive - maybe not such a good thing, if their parents knew. I was almost the only white person on the platform. I stood at the end where I knew the driver would be and waited. A group of boys looked at me and snickered, but they didn't come over. After an age, the train appeared. I sat right behind the driver in case there was another incident, but there was not.
Arriving at the downtown train station, I was at first pushed around by the lunchtime crowds of businesspeople until I managed to make my way to a wall. I waited until everyone else had gone by, then headed up the stairs. A bum asked me for money, and I ran away from him, panicked. As a man, I would have just ignored him. It felt like everybody was staring at me, but I'm sure that wasn't so. I walked the 7 blocks to the Galleria without looking at anyone. I kept to the side so that I wouldn't be stepped on by hurried adults.
By the time I arrived at the downtown mall, I was a nervous wreck. It is not a good world to be a kid in, if you don't have an adult's hand to hold onto. Being so nervous, I had to go, if you know what I mean, though that had never been a problem as an adult. I made a beeline for the restrooms on the lower level.
Everybody stared at me as I walked into the men's room. Ignoring them, I went straight for the urinal. It was too high. I had to wait in line for one that was low enough, dancing. At last the man in front of me finished, and I moved up quickly. It proved impossible to pull my little penis out of my pants far enough to avoid soiling myself, so I ended up just pulling my shorts and undies down over my butt.
I needed to go, but of course you can't when you're nervous, so I stood there for a long while waiting for something to come out. Finally, a narrow stream started.
"So what are you supposed to be?"
I looked up at the man standing next to me. A broad sneer stretched across his face. Chilled by his contempt, I looked down, only to be confronted by the long snake that he dangled from, rather than held in, his hand. My face got hot. Not knowing what to say, I turned back to the front and tried to push my urine out faster, knowing that I couldn't stop now, or I would never get started again. I was shaking all over.
"Don't worry, babe," the man said, as his own thick yellow stream started flowing. "I like women, not little fairies like you." I was still trying to force my urine out when he finished. Unconsciously, I turned my head in time to see him pack his long, thick penis into his dirty jeans. "Better not show that cute little ass to too many guys, though - someone might take you up on the offer."
Frantic to pretend that everything was OK, I quickly turned back to the front, blushing more deeply than ever. I stood pushing out little dribbles as I waited for him to leave the restroom. Then, as quickly as I could, I pulled up my underwear and shorts and hit the flush. I washed my hands as fast as possible to get out of there, but I couldn't help noticing in the mirror that my hair was all messed up from the bus.
It was 20 minutes or so before the meeting time with David. By now, I was so messed up that I thought of jumping in the fountain rather than sitting by it. I managed to calm myself, though, and slipped into a drugstore to get a hairbrush. They had a pink-handled one for $2, and a gold-handled one for $25 - OK, pink it is. I also bought myself a Tom Clancy novel in case David was late.
The clerk took her time waiting on me; the brush needed a price check. She asked if the book was for me. I said it was. She said, "We have books for little girls on aisle 8, wouldn't you rather read one of those?" I assured her I would not. She was not pleased; apparently, she didn't like little tomboys.
I got away from there, at least, and, wanting to get away from people, I wandered into a part of the mall that was mostly vacant. I brushed my hair looking in the window of a vacant store and replaced the cap to keep it in place. I pulled my watch out of my pocket (it was too big for my wrist now) and checked the time. I had only 5 minutes left! I rushed down to the fountain. Again, everyone seemed to be looking at me. David was not there. I sat down and started reading; it helped take my mind off things.
A man sat down next to me, but I didn't look at him - another creep like the man in the restroom, I thought. I waited for him to go away. Instead, he put his hand on my knee.
By this time, I was about to break down from all the stress. My eyes were tearing up as I looked at the man. It was David! I almost started crying, right there in the mall. He saw it and shielded me by giving me a hug. I hugged him back. He hugged me more tightly. He stroked my back. What's this to all the busy people in the Galleria? Just a man comforting his daughter, poor dear. Old ladies smiled.
Finally, we disengaged. He wiped my eyes with his handkerchief and took my hand. I held close to him, feeling safe somehow. He didn't want to talk in public any more than I did. We went out across the street to the garage where he was parked. I was trying to get it together, but I was almost skipping to keep up with him; damn, he was tall. We got in his car and drove away.
His car was a Buick Regal or something like that, a big, plush, businessman's car. I settled into the big seat uncertainly. He buckled his seatbelt, then mine. He was wearing slacks and a sport shirt.
Only as we were pulling out of the garage did he actually speak. "Chrissie" - he cleared his throat, nervously. "I'm glad to see you. Are you OK?"
"Yes," I replied. The fact that he was nervous too made me feel better. "I'm glad you came," I said, getting back in character.
"I said I would," he answered, reaching around me to touch my hair. "I will always be there for you, Chrissie," he added. Ick, I hate sentimentality. "I thought we could go to lunch. What's a good place?"
My stomach gave a lurch. Back at home, I was down to crackers and catsup. "Schlotzky's," I said, without thinking. "Um, it's a ways, though." I tried to think of something closer. He was driving aimlessly.
"Which way?" was all he said. From downtown, it was half an hour; at least it wasn't rush hour. I kicked myself inwardly. If this didn't work out, I didn't know how I would get home; no trains ran that way. I directed him. The ways onto an urban freeway are secrets well-hidden from outsiders. I led him down seemingly unused streets to a ramp hidden under an overpass. I could tell he was impressed. We got there in 20 minutes. Unfamiliar with the city, he had to keep focused on driving.
I ordered corned beef on light rye with kraut on the side; David got the same. "Have you heard from your parents?" he asked, after the waitress had left.
"No," I said, "but they'll come back, though."
"What's the longest they have been gone?" He was worried; that was good.
"About two weeks." Long enough to seem desperate, I hoped, but not so long that it would seem hopeless, so that he should adopt me. Lying is hard work. "It has only been 8 days," I added, hopefully.
The waitress brought the food. Traffic was light, service fast. Without thinking about it, I dove into the sandwich, wolfing down three bites and washing them down with long drinks of milk before I noticed that David was staring at me.
"When did you eat last, Chrissie?" he asked soberly.
Oops. "Um, yesterday," I said, my mouth full. I put the sandwich down and wiped my mouth, ashamed for some reason that I had talked with my mouth full. "I don't eat much, usually," I added.
David looked at me full of pity. "Eat as much as you want, sweetheart." I didn't answer, just went back to eating. He reached over and took my hat off, setting it on the table. "You shouldn't wear a hat inside."
I swallowed. "Oh, yeah, right," I said. I ate half of my sandwich but couldn't touch the rest. It turned out that I really didn't eat much. I hardly tasted my kraut. Before we left, I went and washed off my face and hands in the restroom; fortunately, it was empty.
We got back in David's car. He said we were going to his hotel, but I figured that already. Stuffed full, in a soft velour seat and air- conditioned comfort, I struggled to stay awake as I led him back downtown. I knew his hotel, it was almost a landmark in town. He is obviously a man of means, I thought drowsily, as we drove into the underground garage.
I must have closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, he was carrying me down the corridor. This is wrong, I thought, but it felt nice. When we got to his floor, I let him know I was awake, and he put me down.
It was a nice room. The mirror on the wall had a gilt frame. I looked at myself in it, at my skinny arms, realizing that I wouldn't have much chance in a fight with a man who could carry me as if I weighed nothing - if all this went terribly wrong. I frowned.
David came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. "You look lovely, sweetheart," he said.
I pushed the hair out of my eyes with a limp-wristed hand. God. I remembered the year after my brother went away, how I had struggled every day to learn to keep my wrist straight, like a real boy. How to walk like a real boy. How I hid from bullies by getting in the chess club, and the drama club, and the debate club, so that I would never be there after school when they waited for me. And now, here I was, unlearning it all at once. "God, I'm sick," I said to myself with disgust.
"Why do you say that, Chrissie?" David asked.
I turned to look at him. He was as sick as I was - what a beautiful pair of faggots we made. It was too disgusting to talk about, so I changed the subject. "Did you bring the money?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, taken aback. He patted his wallet. "It's right here."
"Let me see it," I said, holding out my hand. If I was going to do this, then I'd better by God get paid.
He pulled out his wallet and sat down. Taking his time, he counted out the money in my hand. With every $20 bill he counted out, it was as if I diminished in his eyes. I avoided them and watched the money. He counted out his money and his love, his voice growing weaker and lower with each bill. "... 280 ... 300."
Not looking at him, I took the money, folded it neatly, and put it in my pocket. "I-I need it," I said, looking at the plush carpet under my feet. I felt like I would die under his disappointed gaze, so I added, "I'm sorry," though I didn't know what I should be sorry for.
David hugged me. "It's OK, sweetie, I understand."
"It's just, I need the money to pay the rent," I whined. I couldn't handle his disapproval, not after what I had been through today, not with the knowledge that I had (possibly) several more years of it to endure. Besides, I had always been a good kid.
We sat on the edge of the bed. He held me and rubbed my back for a while, then his hand found its way to my butt. Noo, I thought, I can't do that. I moved away and forced a smile - all better now, see?
"How was your trip?" I asked. Oh, that's bad - next we'll talk about the weather. But what was there to say?
"Not bad," he said. "Not much traffic in the middle of the week." He put his arm around me again and played with my hair. What was it with men and this hair? "I'd rather talk about you. How are you doing?"
"Uh, I'm fine," I said. "Great, in fact. I like being here with you. So - you work in an office?"
"I'm an attorney," he said dismissing the subject. "You don't seem fine. You seem like a very sad little boy."
"I - I'm not sad, I said I was fine."
"Why are you shaking, sweetheart? Are you scared of me? I would never hurt you. I'm just a big, cuddly bear."
I hadn't noticed I was shaking until he said it. Thirty years of hard- bitten logic seemingly gone in a flash. I could control what my mouth said, but not what my body gave away. I would be a terrible liar. "Cuddly bear," I said, giggling nervously.
"Just a big, cuddly bear," he repeated, growling like a bear. He threw his arms around me and pushed me back on the bed, tickling me mercilessly. I was very ticklish, and soon I was laughing and screaming uncontrollably - I'm surprised I didn't break the hotel glasses. After a while, he stopped, though we remained lying on the bed, our feet dangling over the side. My hat had disappeared in the struggle, and my face was half covered with yellow tangles. David pushed them away and smiled at me. I smiled back shyly, and for a minute I was afraid he would try to kiss me. He seemed to struggle with the idea, but evidently decided I wasn't ready.
"Are you still nervous?" he asked. He was close enough that I could feel his breath on my face.
"Yess," I whispered.
"How come?" He pulled some of my hair around under my chin to frame my face.
"I dunnooo," a child's answer, but I was a child, right?
A light dawned in his eyes. "This is the first time you've done this, isn't it?"
I nodded. David seemed to melt then, becoming more cuddly and panda- bearish than ever. He hugged me again - he seemed to like to do that a lot - and soothed, "Don't worry, sweetheart, we won't do anything you don't want to do."
Oh, well, that's good - considering. "Okay," I said, softly, since it was hard to take a breath with him hugging me so hard.
"I've got something that might relax us both," he said, finally releasing me. Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, he got up and walked over to his suitcase, opened up a secret compartment in the back (yeah, they really have those), and pulled out an antique silver cigarette case. He came back and sat back down on the bed. I sat up next to him, and he opened the case. There were four well-packed joints inside, tied to the case with a small red ribbon. He held out the case for me to untie the ribbon.
Now, it's not like I didn't know this was a bad idea. I hadn't smoked any since I was, I guess, 16. Marijuana doesn't agree with me. It makes me act really - weird. It also makes me paranoid, probably justifiably since I'm acting so weird when I'm high. But there I was, just untying the ribbon like nothing was wrong. I couldn't tell David that I didn't like to get high, since that would imply that I had done it before, and that would have spoiled his image of me as innocent little Chrissie. On the other hand, I couldn't act all shocked, since he had already seen me drinking alcohol. Dumb reasons, I know, but I wasn't thinking very straight; I was too nervous. I decided that I would smoke but not inhale - like our beloved President.
David pulled a silver lighter out of the other side of the case and lit up. Gee, I hope he got a smoking room, or they'll charge him a cleaning fee, I thought giddily. He took a long toke and handed the joint to me. Taking care not to actually touch my lips to it, I pursed my lips as if to kiss it and pulled a little smoke in. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, a little got into my lungs, and I almost dropped the joint in the resulting coughing fit.
David grabbed it before it fell to the floor and delicately flicked the ash into the tray. "First time, eh, Chrissie?" he asked. I nodded, red-faced. "Turn towards me." I did. "You breathe in when I breathe out. It'll be smoother. If you think you're going to cough, just turn your head to the side and take in some air. Hold it as long as you can, then let it out."
So that's what we did. He shotgunned me, our lips pushed out as if to kiss, but two inches away, as if frozen on the verge. And, in the end, I forgot my vow not to inhale. It didn't take long, the first couple times, before I had to turn aside for air. By the third time, I was really feeling it. The fourth time, he took the back of my head in his hand and poured the smoke directly into my mouth, our lips touching. It was really weird, as if he was breathing for me, as if even the most basic thing you have to do for yourself was being done for me.
"I - I had enough," I said, turning away from the fifth hit.
"Just one more, it's almost gone," he said, in that choked way of a person holding his smoke. So I turned to him again, and he held my head again, and blew the smoke into me again. But then he kept kissing me, his tongue following when the smoke was gone, his hand holding my head in place, breathing in the smoke when I let it out, then passing it back to me, till we finally had to break off to get some oxygen. He broke the cherry off the roach and left it in the ashtray. It was a smoking room, I thought, feeling silly.
Even then, he held onto me as giddy waves washed over me. I reached down with limp-wristed hands and pulled on the hems of my shorts. I noticed immediately and stopped it. I crossed my legs at the knee and pointed my toe demurely at the floor. I was tho gay. I was acting weird again.
"How do you feel, Chrissie," David asked softly, in my left ear.
"Fine," I said softly, making myself uncross my legs again.
"You're shy," he said admiringly. His hand trailed down my side and rested on my bare knee. My little pecker stood straight up, as a shiver ran down from my neck to my feet and back up to my bottom, where it retreated into a lingering tingle. "You're very pretty, Chrissie, you have nothing to be shy about."
I put my knees together and crossed my ankles, blushing brightly. I put a soft hand on his and tried gently to push it away from my knee. It remained there. He moved it slowly up to the hem of my shorts.
"I can't believe my Abba girl is so shy," David said, kissing me on the cheek, which in turn sent another wave through my body. His other hand was moving down my back. "I have a present for you," he said, grinning.
"What?" I asked, my voice high-pitched and hoarse.
"You'll see." He pulled away from me. I pushed the hair out of my face with curled fingers and looked at him. His smile seemed intimidating, so I looked down at the carpet and crossed my legs again. He walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a gift-wrapped package.
I took it and set it in my lap. With shaking hands, I pulled apart the silver foil and opened the box. It was a silver dress, covered in sequins; it sparkled brightly, even in the dim light of the hotel room. I looked at it in amazement; he couldn't be serious.
"Why don't you go put it on?" David gently pushed me to my feet - he was serious. The box fell to the floor. I held the dress in front of me, staring at it, the colors it seemed to pull out of a drab, dark room were amazing. He led me to the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
Why did I have to be such a fag? It seemed to be printed across my forehead in bright pink letters [thanks for the image, Ganymede]. But David didn't mind, and he certainly wouldn't tell anybody, pervert molester that he was, my big cuddly bear. I giggled at that and couldn't stop laughing until I held up the dress again. It was gorgeous. Don't know why, but I had to try it on.
I sat down on the toilet seat and pulled my shoes and socks off. There was music playing out in the bedroom, but I couldn't hear it distinctly. I pulled my shirt off, then took my shorts down and off. I had worn the panties since they were so comfortable, not knowing how appropriate they would turn out to be. I looked at myself in the mirror. My dick was at full mast, 2-1/2" of skinny, hairless glory, poking out the front of the panties.
Suddenly, I thought I looked horrible. Skinny arms with no muscles at all, baby fat under dime-sized nipples grown pointy in the air- conditioned bathroom, narrow shoulders that barely protruded out from under my outsized head, a cute, full belly that hung out slightly over my too-wide hips, skinny legs that seemed to balloon out as they met my torso. Everything out of proportion, in my mind. Paranoid as ever.
Discouraged, I pulled the dress over my head and straightened it. It was still a glorious dress, just ugly me under it. It was a mini, of course - what else would an Abba girl wear? The shoes didn't seem right with it, so I left them off. I got the brush out of my shorts and brushed my hair. Well, so much for this, I thought, stepping out into the room. The worst that will happen is that he will throw me out, and I already got his money. (Worse things could have happened, of course, but I didn't think of them then.)
David was looking at some CD's. He stood and turned around. "Wow, Chrissie, you're gorgeous. I wasn't sure of the size, but it looks great!"
Cognitive dissonance - that is what a psychiatrist calls it when what you know is true is denied by what you see. David was looking at me with such total admiration that it was undeniable that he thought I was pretty. I blushed again, folding my hands in front of me in another effeminate gesture that I had struggled hard to unlearn.
He held out his hand and pulled me to him, and we danced. Fast dances, mostly. He turned out to be a good dancer, never stepped on my feet once. Finally I stopped looking at the floor and looked at him. I didn't know the songs; Disney radio stuff, from the sound of it. He probably thought that that was what I would like. Whatever. I felt a lot better when I was dancing, it gave me something to do, though this was the first time I had actually danced with somebody.
Finally he put on a slow song. David pulled me close and we swayed together. I just held him around the middle. I could feel his dick, hard against my middle. He could probably feel mine brushing against his leg. His hand reached down and covered my butt over the sequined dress.
I didn't try to stop him when he did that, nor did I prevent him from picking me up and carrying me over to the bed. Soft music played as he pulled the dress up and over my head, kissing me on the lips, then on my forehead, then all the way down my body. I was so high, and it felt so good, but so scary. He grinned at me as he pulled my panties down and off, looking over my naked body, up close, breathing hot air on me from my feet to my neck, before he went back down to my little dick and took it into his mouth.
Oh, wow, so this is what sex is supposed to feel like. My whole body was tingling. The fact that I was completely naked and he was fully clothed only added to the excitement of it - like he could do anything he wanted to me, and I couldn't do a thing about it. I reached down and felt his shoulders through his shirt. It was surprising to find such an old guy in such good shape. I felt his strong arms as he worked on my little prong.
I was excited all right, and it felt wonderful, him sucking on me, but I wasn't going to have an orgasm. I wondered if I even could; I wondered if David would be disappointed. As if sensing my trouble, he gradually took his mouth off my dick and started licking my tight, hairless ballsac more, working his way behind them to the thin, pink crease between my legs, pushing them apart to get better access for himself - not that he was ignoring my dick, he still came up to give it a lick now and then. Lying back on the bed, I was unable to reach him any more, so I started stroking my own chest and sides. David soon put a stop to that, taking my hands in his big bear claws and holding them to the bed by my waist as he continued to feast on my private parts. Frustrated, I started pushing up towards him with my legs, trying for more of his talented tongue.
"Oh, you like that, do you, you little minx?" he said, grabbing my shins and lifting my thighs to his shoulders. In this position, with me half curled up on my back, I could reach his silvery brown hair. He, however, could reach my bottom, and when I felt his tongue there, I squealed and tensed, just about pulling out two fistfuls.
That seemed to make him mad, since he grabbed my hands again and twisted them back, not painfully, but making it impossible for me to grab anything except his wrists, which I did. This effort didn't slow down his ass-eating at all, though. He covered my bottom and the inside of my thighs with little love-bites, making me squeal again in pleasure and fear. He took both my hands in one of his, then reached down and unzipped his slacks. I thought, now I'm going to see him, but no, he just stroked himself a few times out of my sight, his hand returning a moment later under my bottom, sticky fingers running down my crack, pushing my bottom up farther, curling me up even more.
I got scared and started to wiggle. It seemed to have an effect; with no more effort than tossing a small sack of flour, he flipped me over on the bed and pulled me to the edge. I started to get up, but he grabbed my hands again, twisting them back once more, pulling my arms out straight. "Da -" I started to say, but it was interrupted by a moan as he pushed his slick, pointed tongue right up into my boyhole. It didn't hurt at all, in fact it felt fantastic, but I was so surprised by the weirdness of it that I started wiggling again, struggling with my legs to get some footing on the soft carpet. David was easily able to pin my legs down with his own.
"Oh, you aren't going anywhere, Chrissie," he said, his voice hoarse with lust, grabbing both my hands behind my back with one of his before diving back into my hole with his tongue. His remaining hand stroked up and down from my waist to my knee.
I knew I should tell him to stop, he had said he would, but it felt so damn good, I was rubbing my hard little wiener on the bedspread, humping back against him as he licked out my sensitive anus. It opened to him with ease, and my scarce diet over the past few days, combined with an especially careful shower before I left home, meant that there was nothing particularly unpleasant for him to find back there. I was tingling all over, each thrust of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through my befuddled brain.
He stopped suddenly, and I felt something cool dripping down into my crack. "Cherries for a little cherry boy," he said, with the same hoarse voice, as the scent of the warming oil wafted up to my nostrils. I felt pressure at my boyhole again, but it wasn't his tongue, it was his finger. I whined in fear rather than pain as he drove it in, just the fingertip at first, pulling it out and reinserting it over and over, retrieving oil from the pool on the small of my back and methodically lubricating my bottom with it, gradually opening up that now cherry-scented opening with his middle finger, twisting and stretching it wider and wider, accompanied my much wiggling and moaning from me.
"Yeah, you got a hot little bottom there, Chrissie girl," he said, withdrawing his finger and swatting my behind with his oily hand. He released my hands and feet, but I had no time to move before he was on top of me, crushing me into the bed with his weight, though he carried most of it on his elbows. I felt another finger at my behind, but now I counted two hands in front of me. Oh, God, he's going to ... "I'm going to fuck you now, Chrissie," he whispered in my ear. "That's what you wanted, isn't it, you little slut?" The head of his penis found the indentation of my boyhole. I tensed, but it made no difference; my bottom just opened for him of its own accord. All I could do was whine slightly as it pushed inside.
"That's me. That's me inside your body, Christopher. You're being fucked, bet it feels good, doesn't it?" He didn't let up, his narrow 6" cock sliding smoothly and slowly into my bottom. It didn't hurt much at all, just sliding in as if it belonged there - as if a man's cock belonged in my ass. I shivered all over, never having realized how completely one person can dominate another.
As if to emphasize the point, he pulled almost all the way out and shoved back in quickly, eliciting a high-pitched "Oh!" from me, causing my eyes to go blurry. "Yeah, you queer little bitch, you're getting fucked" - thrust - "now, fucked" - thrust - "like a little fag-boy should be."
Then it was on. Beyond words, David let his weight down on me some more, only his arching back keeping me from suffocating, grabbing my hips with oily fingers, thrusting all the way inside, over and over again, rubbing my little dick raw on the bedspread. I couldn't hold a conscious thought, each hard entry sending ill-defined pain into my stomach and chills through my body. My entire consciousness, usually diffuse and "multi-tasking," was centered solely on David's hard penis, drilling into my insides.
I tried squeezing on it with the sorely tested muscles of my rectum, and that set it off. My whole body tensed as waves of pleasure washed over me, made only more acute by the steady ache that now punished my ass. It was unlike any orgasm I'd ever had before, blue-green lights flashed before my eyes and white-hot waves washed over me, emanating from the long, hard cock that never stopped driving into me, as if nailing me to the bed. I broke out in a sweat, uttering little choking sounds. I didn't exist as a man or boy any more - I was nothing but cock, David's cock, spit running down my chin in token of what he had not yet chosen to put in my behind.
"Oh, yeah, Chrissie, do that again," David said, panting now, perhaps not knowing that I had given him everything already, or he had taken it from me. I tried feebly to squeeze him, to hold him inside, but apparently it was enough, as soon I felt his thrusts becoming frantic; it may be impossible but I swear I felt every vein in his cock, every millimeter of the lip on its head, every bit of heat as his semen jabbed into me like a volcanic eruption.
I couldn't see straight. David collapsed on me like a bull moose, driving the air out of my lungs, controlling even my breathing now. Only as involuntary spasms caused me to start choking for air did he roll off to the side, pulling me with him into an awkward spoon position.
"Wow, that's the best fuck I ever had," he finally panted. "You're wonderful, Chrissie."
"Thank you," I said submissively, to the man who still had his dick in my bottom.
After a while, he said, "I guess I'd better get cleaned up." He swatted my bare ass, pulled out of me, and walked off into the bathroom, his penis dangling out of his slacks.
I heard water running in the sink; he hadn't bothered to close the door. I curled up into a ball and started sucking my thumb. I don't know how to describe how I felt, but I was definitely a different boy from what I had been before. My rectum was still throbbing from the onslaught, my skin still tingling, my head still spinning. I listened to water running in the sink as David washed off.
He came back sooner than I thought. "Your turn," he said. I got up slowly, surprised that my legs still worked, then ran past him as I felt something liquid start running out of my ass. I sat on the toilet and pressed down, trying to push him out as I hadn't done when he was fucking me, hating him, hating myself.
"Don't worry, it'll come out tonight, if it doesn't come out now," he said, standing in the doorway, grinning.
"Oh, yeah," I said softly, not looking at him, feeling very naked for some reason. I sat for a while after the last plink into the water, then self-conciously wiped myself, with David standing there smiling the whole time. I finally stood up.
"Let me see the damage," he said, stepping forward to grab my arm below the shoulder, turning me around. He grabbed one soft cheek and pulled it aside to look. "Not too bad. You might be sore for a few days, it'll clear up, though."
"C-can you leave me alone for a few minutes?" I asked shyly. This post-mortem was making me crazy.
"Sure, sweetie," he said, walking out of the bathroom like Caesar returning from Gaul.
I closed the door and turned on the faucet, washing my face, my hands, washing my butt till it was raw. I couldn't get the smell of the cherry oil off me, however. I wanted to take a shower, but I was afraid David would hear it and come in. I dried off with a hand towel. Mindful of his warning, I plugged my hole with some toilet paper to prevent leakage, then found my clothes and got back into them, though my panties were still out in the bedroom. I brushed my hair again.
David was lying on the bed when I came out, reading my Clancy novel. "This is a good book," he said.
I objected to him taking it, but I wasn't going to demand it back. "Can you take me back to the Galleria?" I asked, trying to sound confident, not successfully.
He put the book down. "You want to leave already?" he said, sounding disappointed.
"Um, yeah, I want to get home, uh, before the last train." I had forgotten to ask when that was, but I was sure it would not be for several hours yet.
"It's only four o'clock, the trains will run for a while yet."
"Um, I want to get home before, um, in case my parents get back."
"I'll take you right home, sweetie. You don't have to ride the train. Stay here a while."
I wasn't going to win this argument. I sat down on the bed.
"Come up here, Chrissie. I won't bite." Obediently, I crawled up and lay down next to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled my head to his chest. I was still high, I realized; my heart started beating faster, and my little dick started thickening once more. Fear can be a powerful aphrodisiac. One arm was pinned underneath me; not knowing what to do with the other, I finally put it across his middle. David started softly stroking my arm. "I never met a boy like you before, so soft and pretty."
I didn't answer, but I wasn't too upset at the moment. It was actually kind of nice to be cuddled like that. I needed to come down off my high before I went out in public again anyway, and if this is how David wanted to pass the time, that was fine.
"I didn't hurt you, did I, sweetheart?" he asked, made anxious by my silence.
"No," I allowed.
"I think you hurt me, though," he said, chuckling softly. "I don't need boys pulling out my hair, I have little enough as it is."
I raised my head to look at him. "I'm sorry," I said.
"Oh, don't worry, sweetie, I don't mind," he replied, pulling my head back down. "I just have to remember that my little baby can be a wildcat in bed. Are you sure this is your first time?"
His hand wandered down from my shoulder to my bottom. "Yes," I yelped, as he gave it a squeeze.
He chuckled again, clearly proud to have broken my cherry. As if to confirm it, cherry scent still wafted up from there, the room now seeming much warmer. "Well, you were marvelous, best I've ever had."
That made me wonder how many he had had, but I couldn't bring it up. I was feeling very protected at the moment, but afraid of what would happen if my cuddly bear turned wild. A thrill of submission ran through me, and I rubbed my bare knees together self-consciously.
He gave my butt another squeeze, then moved his hand back up to my shoulder again. "Tell me, do you like being a girl or a boy?"
"I-I'm a boy," I replied softly, not looking at him.
"You make a very pretty girl, though." I didn't answer. "Oh, I see. Only when you're dancing, right?"
"Yeah," I said, thankful to have a way out.
"What else do you like to do?" he asked.
Damn, now it wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer any more. "Umm, play with the computer?"
"What else?"
"Watch movies?"
"What else?"
"N-nothing, really." The more lies I told, the more I would have to act when I saw him again, as I was sure I would.
"Don't you have any friends?" David asked.
Danger ahead. "Um, sure. I have a friend Amy." Mr. Comfort's lovely daughter.
"What do you two do together?"
Well, what would a boy and girl do? I couldn't say swimming, since even though it was midsummer, I was as white as a sheet. We must have played inside mainly. "We play house," I finally said.
"You're the daddy?" He was sniffing my hair. I hoped he wasn't getting ready for another go around.
"Usually. Sometimes I'm the kid."
"What about other boys? Are you friends with any of them?"
For some reason, I resented that question; I didn't like him talking about other boys. "No, I don't get along with boys much," I said.
"They tease you?"
"Y-yes."
"Ohh, I'm sorry, honey," he purred, kissing the top of my head. "Do they hurt you?"
"No, I stay away from them," I said. "They chase me sometimes, is all."
"What would they do if they catch you?"
"Beat me up, I think." It was a disturbing thought; I realized that I would need to worry not only about adults, but about children my own age or older.
"Someday a boy will chase you, but he won't want to beat you up."
"Wh-what then?" I asked, coyly.
David rolled over on top of me and held my arms above my head, his knees on either side of my thighs. "He will want to hold you down like this," he said, his grin so wide I smiled myself in response, "and kiss you!" With that, he bent down and started kissing me all over my face. I twisted and struggled to get away, giggling shrilly.
Just as suddenly as he had started, he stopped and reached down to cup my crotch. "Seems like Chrissie is feeling frisky again," he said with a grin, rubbing my little erection through the yellow shorts.
I blushed brightly. "Um, I don't -" I began, my voice trailing away in embarrassment.
He kissed me again, on the nose. "I understand, sweetie," he said, thankfully still smiling. "We'll do something different this time."
I started to rethink the idea of staying here, then - but I didn't get much time to think. David pulled my shirt off over my head, then reached back and pulled my sneakers and socks off. I squirmed to get away but not that hard; he was sitting on my pelvis, and there was little chance of my being able to shift his weight. When he got to my shorts, it was looking very similar to last time.
David, however, had other ideas. He moved off me and reared up on his knees, holding my shorts by the hem, and raised his arms over his head, dumping me onto the mattress like sugar from a bag, then lay down beside me. "Turn around," he said thickly.
I didn't respond. I looked frantically around the room. My clothes were scattered everywhere; there was no way I could grab them all in time to get away, and, despite my fear of this man, I didn't really want to face the ramifications of running naked through the hallways of a four-star hotel.
I had just decided to go for it anyway, starting away from him, when David grabbed my arm, hard, above the elbow, and twisted me down toward his feet. "Ow!" I howled, as he grabbed my leg and pulled it to the other side of him.
Now I was on top of him, my head pointed toward his feet, my bottom in his face. "Take it out," he said. I couldn't see his face, but my struggles had evidently made him angry. "Take my cock out!" he demanded again, swatting my ass for emphasis.
I hurried to comply, fumbling with nervous fingers to get his belt undone, then pulling down the zip. As I fished for his cock through the fly of his boxers, I noticed he was calming down, even chuckling a bit as he pulled the plug of toilet paper from my boyhole. He was still holding my thigh in a vice grip, however; I would have bruises in the morning.
"Kiss it, you little slut," he growled, "kiss my cock." As I leaned forward to kiss it, I felt his fingers start to caress my own little dick. I took his cock in my hand and kissed the tip. I kept on kissing it as David rubbed my boydick with the palm of his hand, gradually restoring it to hardness.
"Suck it, bitch," was his next order, not unexpected now. "Watch your teeth!" I put my mouth down over the head of his penis and sucked it like a straw, having given up any idea of resisting further.
Given the difference in our sizes, there was no way he could have reached my little prong to reciprocate, but that wasn't his intention anyway. He spread my knees and pulled my bottom down to his face and attacked my hole with his tongue. I moaned around his cock as his tongue wormed its way inside me once more.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he taunted. "Suck harder! Move on it!" he said, pushing my head down till his dick jammed in my throat.
He let my head go and got back to licking out my ass. I obediently bobbed my head, driving the first couple inches into my throat, pulling back to my lips, then back down again. "Use your tongue! Stroke it with your hand!" he ordered between swipes of his tongue. Nervously, I did my best to comply, but his tongue-reaming was making it difficult to concentrate. In spite of everything, my bottom was beginning to tingle again.
"Maybe you'd rather have it in here again?" he said, replacing his tongue with a finger.
His other hand had moved back to my head, pressing down. "Erm! Errm!" was all I could reply with his penis in my mouth. That first fuck had been too intense - I was sure I couldn't go through that again. I redoubled my efforts, noisily slurping at his dick, lubricating it with my spit, pounding the shaft with my soft little hand, bobbing my head rapidly. Losing all self-control, intent on one task only, my too-long hair tossed in the air as if blown by an invisible breeze.
Behind me, finger was replaced with tongue again, then finger again, then both. I gyrated my hips, wanting him to stop, to let me concentrate, my neck was hurting, just leave my ass alone, you bastard, let me get you off ... then he shoved his finger in deep, curling it down towards the base of my dick. It was only a little tickle, but it sent shock waves through my body. Distracted, I allowed my teeth to graze him, only slightly, and braced myself for the slap I expected to come.
"Oooh, yeah," he said. He liked it! I kept going, sure he was getting close now, tracing the rim of his dickhead with the tip of my tongue before sucking him deep yet again.
He kept going too, sawing his finger in and out of my behind, forcing his tongue in next to it, pulling my hole wider, teasing my anal lip. Then again, he curled his finger in the same place, harder this time, rubbing it.
My eyes crossed, my back arched, my arm folded, and I collapsed onto him, driving his cock farther into my throat that it had been before. Shaking, I came up for air, only to have his hand on the back of my head drive me down again. He did that thing with his finger once more, and only dimly could I hear him past the roar in my ears, "Oh, yeah, you got a hot little bottom there, Chrissie," as I fell down again, got up again, I was still trying to suck him but hitting him with my teeth on almost every stroke. Then he did it again, but this time he didn't stop, two fingers now, rubbing that special place over and over, my whole body tensed as I lost control, forgetting the penis in my mouth entirely, waves of sensation jumping through me like electric shocks. He toyed with me, pulling his fingers back, making me push my bottom back to get it again, silently begging him to continue. A light push on my head brought me back to the task at hand, to the bargain he demanded.
A suck for a fuck. A lick for a twist. A tooth-graze for a bit of that pressure deep inside. I was a robot, and he had the remote control. My rectum was burning, tomorrow it would be very sore, but now the pain was subsumed by a more intense pleasure that drew sweat from my body and tears from my eyes. Finally, tiring of his game, he gave me what I wanted, continually stimulating me, forcing my head down onto his long penis, driving deep into my throat, enjoying the sensation of my throat spasming around his cock as my anus spasmed around his fingers. He let me up for air, only slightly, letting me breathe in the heavy scent of his pubic hair, then, too soon, drove me back down again, spearing my throat, twisting and curling his fingers into me. Over and over again, he took my throat, teased my ass, deprived me of air, blue flashes appearing before my glazed eyes. I was full of cock, so full I couldn't breathe, when I did my nose was filled with the smell of cock, when I opened my eyes I saw only cock; to my disordered mind, this penis was a force of nature, a vicious, relentless god that could never really be appeased.
As if to emphasize the point, David moved his hand to my back, I could finally pull away, far enough to see my attacker spit its contempt on me, coating my face, but those fingers were not done, they came back one last time, rougher than before, sending lightning bolts up my spine. I opened my mouth to scream, only to choke on that thick white liquid that painted my face, covered my tongue, clogged my nostrils, until finally I gave up completely, closing my mouth over that spasming penis, letting it fill me, tasting it, licking it, swallowing it.
Exhausted, so weary it seemed an effort even to breathe, I rested on David's body like a comfortable couch. He let me lay a while, watching the snake that had slain me slowly slink back to its den. At last, he swatted my bottom and lifted me off of him.
"Now I'll take you home," he said with a sneer. "Go get cleaned up."