Jean-Michel Turquoise
An Uncle's Peverted Path To Lust
I.
Montreal in the Springtime, eh. I was watching a Saturday match at the cricket club in a town a few miles from my home; I preferred this particular club ground because I could watch while sitting in my car, which was much more comfortable than the hard wooden benches next to the clubhouse. It was also quieter, as the local supporters tended to become rather noisy when lubricated with multiple cans of lager. My wife Niki had accompanied me to the town to go shopping, leaving me to enjoy the game by myself. After completion of the first innings, there was a 40-minute break while the teams had tea and sandwiches, or perhaps beer and curry, eh. I decided to walk into the nearby shopping center for want of something better to do, and when I arrived there I needed to have a pee, so I went to the public toilets. I was just about to enter when a small ginger-haired boy was ejected from the building with some force, inevitably crying his eyes out. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that he was desperate to pee, but there were three boys in there and one of them had told him to get out. I suggested that he could come in with me, holding my hand and addressing me as 'Uncle Jean-Michel'. His tears subsided, he told me his name, Vincent Vollmann, his age, ten, then he took my hand and we went in. As soon as the biggest of the three boys saw Vincent, he said, “I told you to get out, Ginger-Nut,” and tried to grab Vincent's hair with his left hand, but I just held the offending hand and slowly crushed it. The boy cried out in pain while his two friends watched in alarm. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a flick-knife, threatening me with it. I let go of Vincent's hand and grabbed the boy's right hand, enclosing the flick-knife and slowly crushing that hand as well. I could see his blood dripping from it, and when the boy also saw the blood he started crying. I said to the two other boys: “Look at your big tough pal, eh, he's crying like a baby,” and they appeared disgusted and walked out of the toilet. I released the boy's left hand and pried the fingers of his right so that he dropped the knife; when I released his right hand he ran out of the building. I picked up the knife carefully with my handkerchief, closed the blade and put it in my pocket.
Vincent had been peeing; he finished and I asked him to wait while I did the same. I noticed that he was watching my cock, but decided not to do anything about it. `While I was peeing, I asked him what he was doing in the town; he replied, “Nothing much, I'm just hanging around, waiting for my Moms to finish work.” He told me that his mother worked at a large department store in the town. He usually went to a friend's house on Saturdays but this week his friend was away on holiday and his Mum hadn't known about it; she assumed that Vincent was with his friend. The school summer term had just ended and he wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself during the working week. I decided to go and speak to Mrs. Vollmann to advise her of the situation that Vincent had endured. It occurred to me that if the bully-boy saw him again, Vincent might be in danger; boys that carried flick-knives were unlikely to give in so easily. We left the toilet building and walked to the department store, where I asked to speak to Mrs. Irene Vollmann. She was paged and when she appeared she was more than somewhat surprised to see Vincent with a stranger. I recounted the events of our meeting, and I could see the consternation on her face- she was thinking along the same lines as I was and was worried for Vincent's safety. I took the flick-knife from my pocket, asked for a plastic bag, enclosed the knife in the bag and suggested that she call the police. I pointed out to her that the only set of fingerprints on the knife would belong to the bully-boy, and that if his prints and/or DNA were on record they could probably identify him.
I was happy to explain the events if required by the police. I told Irene about Vincent's friend being away and she looked even more concerned that Vincent had just been hanging around the town for the day. I suggested that I could look after him until she finished work, that I could take him with me to watch the cricket match, and maybe interest him in the game. Her gratitude was almost overwhelming; we exchanged addresses and phone numbers and she said she would ring me on my mobile phone when she returned home. She was glad that Vincent would have something to do and someone to keep him safe for the rest of the afternoon. We returned to the cricket ground and as we walked, he slipped his hand into mine with a happy smile. The first thing I did when we arrived at the club-house was to buy two plates of chips and drinks. Vincent obviously hadn't eaten since breakfast, and he was ravenous. When we finished the meal, I bought us both an ice cream and we returned to the car to watch the match. I decided to sit in the front passenger seat and asked Vincent if he wanted to sit in the driver's seat. “I'd much rather sit on your lap, Uncle Jean-Michel,” he said; by way of reply, I lifted him into the position he requested. He rested his head on my shoulder and we both watched the game. I had to explain the action to him; he was obviously interested, to the extent that he cheered when a batsman hit a six.
Just before Vincent finished his ice cream he managed to spill some on his lap. I fetched a tissue from the glove-box and wiped it away; as I did so, I noticed that he was sporting a little erection immediately under the ice-cream spot. I decided to act as though surprised and asked him, “What's that in your pocket?” He giggled, replied, “That's not something in my pocket, it's my willy.” “Why is it stiff then, eh?” “Because I like you touching it.” I gave it a little squeeze and he giggled and said, “That feels nice. Do it again.” At that moment, a spectator walked past the front of the car. Although she was looking at the match and away from our direction, I decided that a repeat of that particular action might be dangerous. Instead, I loosened Vincent's belt and slipped my hand inside his trousers to caress his penis directly. He responded by closing his eyes and opening his legs, so I reached behind me and fetched a jacket from the back seat, covering Vincent's lap with it.
I undid his zipper so that I could expose his penis under the jacket. When I retracted the foreskin with one hand and stroked his glands with the other, he said, “Oh, that's a lovely feeling.”
His little cock grew as hard as a piece of wood; I continued stroking the rigid two-inch digit, and received the expected sigh of satisfaction. After a while I noticed that he had fallen asleep and his erection had subsided, so I removed my hands from his crotch and continued to watch the cricket match. While I was watching, my wife phoned and told me that she was walking towards the cricket ground and wanted to know where I was parked. I hurriedly awoke Vincent and dressed him properly, then moved over to the driver's seat and asked Vincent to sit in the rear seats. When my wife arrived, I explained the afternoon's events to her; she was as angry as I was at the sheer nastiness that some children could display to others.
She said, “Yeyah, I don't doubt that the bully-boy will be a drug gang member before long, eh, if he's not already?”
II.
My wife introduced herself to Vincent as Auntie Niki and was quite happy to sit in the car chatting to Vincent while I watched the match. We waited until Irene phoned to say she had arrived home, then we drove to Vincent's house and were invited in by his mother; I performed the required introduction. Irene admitted that she was actually Miss Vollmann; she had never been married and didn't know who Vincent's father was, having had her drink spiked at her university graduation party and finding herself pregnant shortly afterwards.
I reflected that if this had occurred fifty years ago or even less, Vincent would probably have been ostracized when an unfeeling local community discovered that he was a bastard child. Fortunately such a situation was now so commonplace that Vincent's legitimacy was never considered. Niki shared my opinion that Vincent was just a person in his own right, and his legal status was of no more concern than was his ginger hair. Irene told us that following my suggestion she had contacted the police about the incident in the toilets, and that I would probably receive a visit from an officer later that evening. She went to the kitchen to make us all a cup of coffee, and while she was away Vincent decided to sit on my lap. Niki smiled when she saw this, and she remarked that Vincent seemed to need a father figure-maybe I was the elected one. Vincent smiled, turned to face me, and said brightly, “Hallo Daddy!” which resulted in laughter from the three of us. Irene returned with the drinks. She wanted to know what the laughter was about, Niki told her that Vincent now had a new father. Irene was interested, and when I suggested that we could perhaps look after Vincent sometimes during the long school holiday she jumped at the chance. She had been trying to find a child-minder, but the only ones she could find at a reasonable price were on the local council estate, and she was concerned about the environment there. The fact that we lived a few miles away precluded daily visits, so Niki thought that a week's 'holiday' with us might be a good starting point, if Irene could bear losing Vincent for that long. When she looked doubtful, I suggested that we all return to our home so that she could see where Vincent would sleep and what he would be doing while he was with us; Irene agreed, and we drove home.
She had a tour of our house and garden, the local children's playground in a beautiful public park, and various other facilities, which were missing, in her home town. She expressed satisfaction that Vincent would be in good hands for at least a week, so we took her home again, collected some clothing and other essentials for Vincent for the coming week, then we returned to our home again with Vincent.
We arrived home to find a police officer waiting for us; we invited her indoors and she took a statement from me regarding the incident in the toilets. She informed me to my surprise that fingerprints on the knife had been checked, and the culprit was well known for his actions, but even more surprising was that his step-father was a assistant county attorney with responsibility for law and order. This attorney knew of his step-son's occasionally feral ways but could do little about it; the boy's mother was completely indulgent and refused to admit that her little darling could do anything wrong. It was a difficult situation for him, but he gave a personal guarantee that if his step-son even looked at Vincent the wrong way in the future, he would ensure that the boy would be put away in a mental institution. When the police officer left, I phoned Irene to tell her what the police officer had told us, and she was relieved that some of the danger to Vincent had been averted.
Vincent's bedtime was now long overdue. Niki made his bed and took him to the bathroom to supervise washing and cleaning teeth. He also had a pee, proudly displaying his little cock to me and asking me when he would be able to hold mine as I had held his earlier. Alarmed, I told him that he must never mention it again unless we were alone- Niki wouldn't approve of my actions. He blushed and apologized, saying that his mother often pleasured him in the same way, so she obviously didn't see anything wrong with it. Niki appeared and said that Vincent's bed was ready, so I told him to change into his pajamas and then I would read him a story to settle him. This I did, and he kissed me goodnight and told me that he had never felt happier than he did at this moment.
III.
My sister-in-law phoned and said that her mother had fallen downstairs and that although nothing was broken, she was in considerable pain and would need help for a few days. My sister-in-law was at that moment about to go on holiday with her family, so Niki agreed to help her mother as necessary. She drove there in the car, leaving Vincent and myself to our own devices. I went to the bathroom and as I was peeing, Vincent came out of his bedroom to use the toilet. He watched me and slowly his little hand moved in the direction of my cock. I smiled at him and he took that as encouragement. When I had finished, he took hold of my dick and started stroking it. As it erected, he looked wide-eyed at it and said, “Gosh m'gosh, it's huge. Did I make it stiff, eh?” “Yes,” I said. “Your hand feels lovely on it.” So he held it a little tighter and massaged it in the same way as I had massaged his the previous day. “I want to wee,” he told me, and proved it by doing just that. As the urine flowed, his morning erection subsided, and when he had finished I told him that we were on our own while Auntie Niki was looking after her mother. “Oh boy m'boy,” he said. “Does that mean we can touch each other's willies?” “If that's what you want.” I said, “but there may also be more interesting things to do with our willies, eh.” I took him into his bedroom and removed his pajamas, then undressed myself. I laid him on his back and took hold of his little penis. I started by licking the closed end of his foreskin, then gradually withdrew the foreskin from the glands as his erection increased. When he was fully erect I applied my tongue to the glands, and received an excited squeal in return. “Oh, that's so peachy-keen-awesome possum, Uncle Jean-Michel,” he said. “Can I do that to you?” By way of reply, I turned around so that we were in a 69-position. I moved my penis towards his waiting mouth and he hungrily engulfed the helmet, his little tongue licking the pee-slit.
I was in heaven, and recalled that this was much better than the last time my wife had done it, several years ago. I warned him that if he continued, my penis would ejaculate in his mouth; he looked surprised and wanted to know what I was talking about. I explained some of the baby-making process, and he asked (predictably) “Does that mean I'll have a baby?” “Oh, no,” I said, “It will just taste a bit strange to you but it won't do you any harm, and it certainly could never give you a baby.” “I want to try it.” I replaced my penis in his mouth and he resumed his sucking action. Very soon the inevitable happened and I warned him of the impending flood. He started swallowing when I ejaculated, and he almost managed to swallow it all, with only a small amount leaking out of the side of his mouth.
“That was nice,” he said. “Eh?”
IV.
After that, I couldn't leave him unsatisfied, so I took his penis into my mouth and started sucking. He sighed when I licked the helmet, groaned when I ran my tongue around the periphery and squeaked when I enveloped the whole two inches plus his scrotum and started sucking hard. “I love that,” he informed me. “Please don't stop.”
I continued sucking, I stroked his anus with a finger. I felt the sphincter muscle twitching, then opening and closing slightly, as though he were trying to draw my finger in. I took a few seconds out from sucking while I wet my finger, then continued inserting the finger while sucking his cock. He started shuddering and I realized that he was having a dry orgasm. The shuddering continued until he arched his back and then returned to lie flat on the bed once more, deathly still. I stopped sucking and removed my finger from his anus, then looked at his face to ensure that he was still awake. He smiled and told me that I had just given him the most wonderful feeling of his life. We dressed in everyday clothes and went downstairs to have some breakfast. Being a Sunday morning, there was not much to watch on TV, so I switched on my computer and trawled the internet while Vincent was sitting on my lap. I found a pornographic site and showed Vincent the real purpose of a man's penis as it displayed sexual intercourse with a woman. He watched as though he couldn't believe his eyes, then remarked that the willies he saw there were much bigger than mine. I had to admit that mine was slightly above average size but that the ones he was watching were well above average; the men were selected for that particular reason. I continued browsing; some gay sites appeared and Vincent was even more amazed that a man could put his willy into another man's bottom.
“They do it because they enjoy it,” I told him. “Sex isn't only for producing babies; its main use these days is for those involved to enjoy the feeling, whether the man is putting it into a woman or another man, eh.” “Could we do that?” he asked, as I had expected, and hoped, he would. “Well, you could put your willy in my bottom quite easily, but if I put mine in yours it would probably hurt at first, although you would enjoy it after you were used to it.”
“I want to try it,” he said. “Can we do it now?” “Not at the moment, I need to recover from this morning's activity. We can do it after lunch if you still want it. In the meantime, we'll go for a walk and then to the children's playground.” We went out and walked one of the nearby footpaths. Vincent had lived almost all his life in a town and was excited at the sights and sounds of the countryside. We reached a river and I showed him how to skim flat stones across the water. He tried to do the same but never managed to develop the required throwing action. We left the river and made for the playground near my home; when he saw the swings Vincent jumped up and down with excitement. There were a few other children playing there, and one boy about Vincent's age sat on the swing next to Vincent and asked me to push him. I spent the next half an hour pushing two boys on swings, then pushing the roundabout with both boys riding it, back to the swings, up and down the slide, and afterwards I was knackered.
The boy introduced himself as Donald, and to my surprise I realized that he was my next-door neighbor. The reason I hadn't seen him before was because he had been away at boarding school, but was now home for the long summer holiday. Donald confirmed that he was eight years old, he told me that both his parents were out at work together, even on a Sunday, and he usually spent most of the day at his Granny's house in the next street. Vincent announced that he wanted to wee. Donald echoed the need. Vincent asked me to go with him, so the three of us went to the nearby Gents' toilet. Vincent stood at the urinal, took out his little pecker and proceeded to pee.
Donald watched him warily. I sensed that Donald was shy, so I suggested that he use the sit-down stall. He went in to the stall but came out immediately. “Someone's filled it with paper and it smells awful,” he said. “Vincent and I will wait outside for you,” I said. A man entered and walked over to the urinal, pulling out a large hunk of meat as he went. Donald and Vincent watched in amazement?they had never seen anyone display a huge cock so openly in public. Donald didn't want to stay at the urinal while the man was there, so he waited at the wash-basin with Vincent and me until the man had left. Then he decided he wouldn't bother to hide his penis from us and did what he originally intended to do. Vincent and I watched him as he held his little cock; it was slightly bigger than Vincent's and he retracted the foreskin as he urinated. “You should do that as well, Vincent,” I said. “It's much healthier than the way you do it, eh. I do the same.” Donald knew that we were watching his cock and hurriedly replaced it behind his zipper.
“No need to be shy, Donald,” I said. “We're both made the same as you.” Donald smiled with slight embarrassment, and told me that his Gran had always said that nobody else should ever see his pecker other than his parents or a doctor. “Sounds to me like she was brought up in a very Victorian family.” “I think she was,” he replied. “She's always saying things like 'children should be seen and not heard', and I hate that.” “You won't get anything as stupid or unkind as that from us,” I told him. “Children are people as well and although they sometimes have to be told what to do, they are deserving of a reasonable degree of respect. It's the best way to give children self-respect.” “Can I come to your house to play with Vincent sometime?” asked Donald. Shrugged. “I don't see why not.
When your parents get home from work today, I'll call in and ask them if I can invite you for an hour or a day.” “Cool,” said Donald, reminding me that he was still a schoolboy. “I'm looking forward to that.” We continued for another half-hour in the playground. I decided it was time for lunch. Rather than risk a confrontation with Donald's grandmother, I suggested that he should go there for his lunch and we would see him in the evening when his parents returned.
V.
Vincent and I went home and had lunch. Vincent reminded me of my promise to put my willy into his bottom. I warned him again that it might hurt, but he insisted because he said that the men on the internet had enjoyed it, so he wanted to as well. I asked him when he last emptied his bowels, and he said, “I had a poo yesterday.” I told him that I didn't want to get my cock covered in smelly stuff, so he said he would go and empty his bottom just for me. I wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment, so I just smiled and told him to go and do it. I said that I would have to wash his bottom thoroughly afterwards in case I might pick up an infection. I inspected his anus and noted that he hadn't wiped it very thoroughly. I told him that a bath was required, so I undressed him and ran the bath for him.
While washing him, I took good care to clean his anus thoroughly, then soaped my index finger and inserted it as far as I could into his rectum. I did this several times, until there was no visible soiling on my finger. I received no complaint from him during this procedure, and I suspected that he was enjoying it immensely; his erection confirmed my suspicion. I fetched a tube of KY jelly from the bathroom cabinet, ready for the forthcoming anal invasion. When I had dried Vincent he ran into his room excitedly, but I preferred to use my bedroom. I decided to undress completely as I had earlier that morning, and then we climbed on to the bed. I began by sucking his penis to full erection, then my tongue made its way to his anus.
Knowing that his rectum was now clean, I lifted his legs high up, inserted my tongue and obtained a little squeak of pleasure. I tongue-fucked it for a few moments, then removed the top from the KY tube and applied a generous helping to his anus and further in to his rectum. By now, of course, my own erection was at a maximum, so I applied a further helping to my glands, then touched it to Vincent's anus. I pushed in slowly; I felt his anus expand. I watched his face and when he grimaced in pain I suggested that he try to push my willy out so as to expand his sphincter further. This he did, and while my penis slid in further his grimace reduced, until I was in all the way and his face showed a neutral smile. I started to withdraw my penis and felt his sphincter tightening in an attempt to prevent withdrawal. I commenced an in-and-out motion and felt his sphincter relax, his smile broadened and he said, “That feels awesome. It doesn't hurt at all now.” To prove that he was receiving pleasure, his penis started to erect again, and I took hold of it and stroked it gently. His feeling of pleasure was increasing continually, and I felt his sphincter start to tighten and relax several times. This gave me an extra jolt of pleasure, so that I was hard pressed to avoid ejaculating. But eventually I couldn't hold back, and started to increase the rate of thrusting in and out as my penis sprayed its contents on to the walls of his rectum. He obviously felt the spray, and he reached up to put his hands around my neck and kissed me lovingly. “I thought you gave me the best feeling in the world this morning, but that was even better.” My penis softened and slid silently out of his rectum. Quickly I reached into the bedside cabinet and extracted a small hand-towel, which I placed under his bottom. I was just in time as the semen started to drip out.
“I'll take you to the bathroom and sit you on the toilet,” I told him. “You can push it all out, eh.” “I don't want to,” he said.
“It felt lovely when it went in and I want to keep it there.” I said, “I'm afraid you won't be able to. It will act like an enema and you won't be able to hold it in.” “When can you do it again?” he asked. “I loved it sooooooooooooooooo much.” “Maybe tomorrow,” I said. “You'll have something to look forward to, eh.” When he had expelled all my semen, we dressed and went downstairs. I decided that I would have a rest after my exertions, following which we would have an afternoon footpath walk and thence to the playground.
VI.
As I was resting with Vincent sitting on my lap, inspired by a scene from Lolita where Humbert Humbert has the little nymphet in his lap. I had a serious conversation with him. I told him that if he ever told anyone else about what we had just done, I would probably be sent to prison and he would never see me again. “Can I tell Donald?” he asked. “That depends on whether he can keep a secret.
But whatever you do, don't tell him or anyone else that I put my willy in your bottom.” “But that was the bestest best part of it!”
“Vincent, if you can't promise me that you'll never tell anyone, including Donald, I won't ever do it with you again. I'm very serious about this, because I'm frightened that the wrong sort of people may get to hear of it and I'll be sent to prison.” At that, Vincent understood my concern and he promised he would never tell anyone.
“But can I tell Donald that I've seen your willy?” “I suppose that wouldn't hurt, so long as you don't tell him I've touched your bottom. But don't even mention any of it except in private or with me.” He agreed and reiterated his promise. The conversation terminated and we got up to go out. As we neared the door the phone rang: it was Niki telling me that her mother was worried that she might not recover from her injuries. She needed to stay with her mother for several days, but didn't really need the car. She would return and ask me to drive her back to her mother's house. This we did, and it was late afternoon when I returned home with Vincent and the car. I drove past Donald's grandmother's house. Vincent saw Donald walking home and asked me to stop to pick him up. When Donald sat in the car, he said his Mum and Dad were home and asked if Vincent and I could talk to them. Irene was watching for Donald's return and was surprised to see him get out of my car. She invited me in, introduced herself as Janet, and explained that she and her husband Danny had bought a corner shop type of business and they had to work every day to make it pay. I told Janet that I worked at home and my wife Niki remained as a housewife, so that we were at home all the time. If they found Donald's boarding school fees too much to bear, they might consider an arrangement with us and send him to a local day school. I stressed that the arrangement wouldn't be financial, but we would have to consider other things such as discipline. My impression of Donald was that he was well-behaved, but I stressed that I had only met him for a short while. Janet told me that her mother, who was quite a disciplinarian, had never shown any dislike for anything that Donald did and had praised him as a good boy. I suggested that Donald could spend the next day with us, and Janet was very happy with the idea. At that moment, Danny came downstairs after having a shower and introduced himself. Janet explained what we had decided and Danny approved in no uncertain terms. I told him that any firm decisions about the future would have to be discussed with Niki, and he agreed that it was essential. I told them of my situation with Vincent; that I wasn't really his uncle and had only known him for a short while.
But his mother and the police were obviously happy with me as a temporary guardian; he was staying with me for a week as a trial to test whether his mother could bear to be separated from him for an extended period. I also told them about my mother-in-law's accident and that my wife was looking after her for the foreseeable future; I would have to get used to being husband and housewife at the same time. I spent an agreeable hour or two chatting with them and hearing each other's life stories. One discovery I made was that the three of them were interested in naturism; they had spent several naturist holidays together and were thus completely uninhibited.
When I recounted the episode in the toilets that morning, culminating in Donald's embarrassment, Janet told me that her mother had been brought up in a strict religious family. Janet had never accepted the premise that naked bodies were dirty, and had impressed the same on Donald. She now understood that Donald was being pulled in two different directions on that subject, and she didn't like it. I assured her that my morals were more in line with theirs, although I had never seriously considered involvement in naturism. Danny said that it was effectively an acquired taste, and probably not for everyone. He and Janet were not in the least bothered by my implied rejection. It was time for Vincent and me to return to our own home. Janet called the boys downstairs and as we were leaving she said, “Donald will be ready for you tomorrow morning. Just ring the doorbell and he'll come out.” Vincent and I returned home, and Vincent told me that he had seen and touched Donald's willy; Donald had been unconcerned at showing it, so they had exchanged views and touches. They hadn't gone further than that; Vincent decided to leave the next step for the morrow. I bathed Vincent without more sexual action; we were both slightly jaded but were looking forward to some more in the morning, perhaps with Donald included. I put Vincent to bed, read him a story and went downstairs to put in some work hours.
VII.
It was a new working week. Sounds of people going to their jobs pervaded the otherwise still air, and I looked out of the window to give myself a weather forecast. Not a breath of wind, heavy cover and high humidity suggested some rain on the way. I had planned to take the boys to an exhibition of a working farm during the day, but the impending weather told me to change to plan B, whatever that was.
I hurriedly dressed and called in next door, just as the rain started, to collect Donald; he had been ready and waiting for nearly an hour and was very pleased to see me. I told him of my original plan, but the rain precluded that for the time being. We went indoors and then upstairs to Vincent's room; he was still asleep so Donald decided to give him a rude awakening. He threw back the bedclothes and revealed Vincent holding his very erect penis. Donald removed Vincent's hand from it and replaced it with his own, then squeezed it gently, retracting the foreskin as he did so. Vincent's expression showed that he enjoyed this, and he made a grab for Donald's nether regions.
Donald sat on Vincent's bed and extracted his small pecker from his trousers, and I was treated to the sight of two ten-year-old boys having a mutual whacking session. Donald obviously didn't object to my watching, as he looked up at me and smiled. I suggested that Vincent should go and pee, and we would decide what to do next when he returned. While Vincent was in the toilet, I sat on the bed with Donald and held his cock, giving it a little squeeze in the same way as he had done for Vincent. Donald looked at me and said, “Vincent told me that you have a big willy and he has touched it. Can I touch it as well?” Needing no second invitation, I removed my slacks and underpants, pointing my erection towards Donald and inviting his attentions. “It's bigger than my Dad's,” he said, “can I hold it?” He wrapped his little hand around it and slowly jerked it back and forth along its length. “Dad likes me to suck his willy wonka. Can I suck yours?” By way of reply I removed my penis from his hand and presented it to his mouth. His little pink tongue came out and he licked the glands, drawing a bead of precum from the slit.
As he was doing this, Vincent returned and wrapped his hand around my shaft. Two young boys attending my dick gave me thoughts that would have given Donald's grandmother a heart attack. I warned Donald that I was close to ejaculation, and he drew it further into his mouth, sucking as hard as his oral muscles would allow. This caused the inevitable reaction; my reproductive equipment started pumping semen into his throat, and I felt him swallowing as fast as he could.
My penis was wilting and he smiled and stared at it and said, “That's the first time I've sucked anyone off apart from my Dad.
It was great!” “Tell me all about it, Donald,” I said. He explained that he sometimes joined his Mum and Dad when they had a sex session. They weren't in the least inhibited, and believed that children should know everything about sex from an early age. He and his Dad sucked each other's cocks with Mum watching and sometimes fingering and licking Donald's anus, and his Dad also occasionally buggered him. His mum often sucked his cock when she was bathing him, and he fingered her pussy in return. They both adjured him to keep quiet about these activities, which would almost certainly land them in jail, but now that he knew Vincent and I were playing sexually he felt that he could confide in us. I decided that we could now tell Donald all about our sexual play, and in particular that I had buggered Vincent the previous evening. Donald looked excited and wanted to know if I would do it to him. “After all, you've given it to me at one end, why not the other end?” he asked, producing laughter from Vincent and myself. I told him that his parents might object, so he said he would ask them when they came home in the evening.
Vincent and I dressed and we went downstairs for breakfast. Rain was still falling, which meant no outdoor activities for the time being. As the previous day, I sat at the computer but this time with Vincent on one knee and Donald on the other. The resultant pressure on their immature prostate glands gave them both erections, which I squeezed gently to their delight. I showed them the same sort of porn sites as I had previously shown Vincent; Donald told me he had tried to find such sites on the school computers, but couldn't. “The computers at your school almost certainly have child-protected operating systems,” I said, “but there's no need for that on my computer.” Donald remarked, as had Vincent previously, on the size of the men's willies. I told him the same as I had told Vincent-only the largest cocks would be seen on the net, so normal sizes looked tiny by comparison. Vincent said that his father's willy had hurt him at first, although he was now used to it. “But one of those would split me in half,” he admitted. Vincent said that my willy had been a bit painful for the first couple of minutes, but it felt wonderful once he could 'let his bottom go', as he described it.
“I'm looking forward to having yours in me, eh,” said Donald, his Canadian accent deep and true.
VIII.
The rain stopped, the sky soon cleared to bright sunshine, and we made our usual foray to the playground via public footpaths.
Vincent and Donald played on the swings while I sat watching.
They weren't the only children in the playground, a group of four girls was there also, and they were watching Vincent and Donald. One of them came and sat on the swing next to Vincent and asked him to push her. I heard him reply that his Uncle Jean-Michel might push her if she asked me, so she came over to where I was sitting, said her name was Ellen and politely asked me if I would mind pushing her on the swing. I have never been able to resist a polite child, and I took her hand and led her to the swing. I decided to push all three of them while the other three girls looked on. I heard an adult call for the girls, but Ellen stayed where she was. She told me that she had no connection with the other three; they were sisters and she had started playing with them because she had no one else to play with.
Donald, ever the gentleman, said “You can play with us if you like. Uncle Jean-Michel's looking after us.” Here I was, supervising three ten-year-old children, none of whom I had even met a week ago. Ellen said that she lived nearby, and asked if she could come home with us to play with the boys. I replied that I would have to speak to her parents about that; she said she only had a Mum; her Dad was somewhere else in the world, but she didn't know where. She had a baby brother, David, who seemed to take up all her Mum's time, and she felt slightly aggrieved at that. I said that we would walk home with her and speak to her mother about the possibility of her playing with Vincent and Donald. Donald suggested that the three of them could play 'tag', so I was treated to the sight of three children running around at breakneck speed, tagging each other. I took the opportunity to relax and politely declined to join the game, saying that I was much too old and infirm. To 'prove' it, I tottered about, resting on an imaginary walking-stick. But this playtime was the kind of strenuous life these youngsters needed, I thought, not vegetating in front of the TV and living on fast food in the way of some children. When the children had worn themselves out, we sat and recuperated. The ice-cream van arrived and I treated the four of us.
Then I suggested that we go to Ellen's house and talk to her mother.
This we did, and Ellen's mother was surprised to see her accompanied by a man and two boys. She introduced herself as Hannah Lacey and invited us in, but asked us to be as quiet as possible because although David was asleep, he was rather a light sleeper. She regretted that she didn't have time to give Darlene the attention she needed, and was very pleased that another family had taken an interest in her. She said that her husband was an electrical contractor involved in a large job in Sweden, and that she didn't expect him to return to UK any time soon. They corresponded by phone and e-mail, but it wasn't the same as having him at home, and Darlene missed him terribly. This, I thought, was par for the course; little girls and their Dads are often almost inseparable. I explained the situation with Vincent, Donald and myself. Hannah was surprised that although we had known each other only a short time, we seemed to be very close; I didn't enlighten her as to the real reason. She was very pleased that I had invited Darlene to join us, and I asked what time I had to return her. “Darlene usually goes to bed at about eight o'clock on school days, but now that the holidays have started I allow her an extra hour.” “Nine o'clock it is then. But if she's naughty I'll bring her back chopped up into small pieces in a supermarket bag.” Hannah smiled and said that she had plenty of spare plastic bags if I couldn't find one. We all trooped off to my house, and I noticed that Ellen and Donald were holding hands. Vincent looked up at me and smiled. “Girls are silly, aren't they?” he said, just loud enough for Ellen to hear. Ellen returned and swatted him on his backside, then she kissed him. Cute. When we reached my house it was time for lunch. I didn't have enough food in the house for three hungry children, so I bundled the three of them in the car and we went to the local MacDonald's. The car was ringing with cheers of three children when we arrived, and they were soon tucking in to hamburgers and chips. When Ellen made a trip to the ladies' toilet, I reminded the boys that they mustn't say anything to her about our private games. Afterwards I decided to buy some fresh food from the nearby supermarket to ensure that they all had a properly balanced diet. Then we went home and the children played together in Vincent's room while I sat at my computer to get some real work done. When I reached a natural break I decided to check on the children as they seemed to be rather quiet. When I opened the door, I saw Ellen sitting on the bed with the two boys on either side of her, She had her knickers off and her skirt high up round her waist, the boys had their willies exposed, and they were obviously playing doctor, as children have done since time began. Ellen looked embarrassed and started to cry, but I just smiled at her and said that they weren't doing anything wrong.
She looked surprised, but then Vincent said, “See, I told you he wouldn't mind.” “Carry on with your games,” said I, “but please make sure you don't hurt each other. I'm responsible for your safety and it wouldn't be very good for me if Ellen had something stuck inside her, or one of you boys had your willy damaged.” I took a long look at Ellen's delightful and hairless little snatch, and as I watched, Donald put his finger into the little slit. Ellen parted her legs exposing her vagina and I noticed that she didn't have a hymen. I made a mental note to ask her about it when the time was right.
“Can Ellen see yours, Uncle Jean-Michel?” Vincent asked, coyly.
“I don't think that would be a good idea,” I replied. “There's no law against children doing that together, but if an adult joins in, he or she could be in big trouble.” “Oh please, Uncle Jean-Michel,” said Ellen. “I used to hold my Daddy's willy, but he's been away for a long time and I don't know when I'll see him again.” I asked Ellen, “What did your Mum think of your touching your Dad's willy?”
“I didn't tell her,” she said. “Daddy asked me not to.” I knew than that Ellen could keep a secret as well as the boys. “I'll think about it, but not today. I have lots of work to do and not much time to complete it. We'll think about it tomorrow if your Mum lets you come here again.”