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Subject: Every Man Needs a Boy part 8 EVERY MAN NEEDS A BOY By Encolpius AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to my collaborator Gacha_Blue and proofreader/editor SkyBorn (if you are a Nifty writer, I highly recommend his assistance). Feedback is appreciated. Write to ail DONATE! DONATE! DONATE! EIGHT I had to pick Sam up from Jace’s house. Jace’s mom was looking after both boys during the day. She offered and the price was right – free- and Sam and Jace were as thick as thieves. It had only been ten days but I was getting into the swing of being a single parent to a rambunctious boy. Well, not just a parent. We didn’t have a typical father-son arrangement. The following Saturday was to be moving day, from the one bedroom to the two bedroom in the same building. The other coaches were going to help me out. I had already moved a lot of the small stuff so it wasn’t going to be too bad. Burns had taken me aside the day before and told me I was going to get a raise. “Now that you have responsibilities, you know. Of course, most men get the woman first and then the kid.” Burns said, chuckling a little. “But I guess getting the women hasn’t been a problem, huh?” I smiled. “Not really.” “Well, you’re giving up the carefree bachelor life, Tyler.” He said, shrugging. “A boy that age needs a father but, trust me, they still need a mother, too. The best advice I can give you is that there is a difference between women you fuck and women you marry.” “I hear you, boss.” It was $600 a month more. That and the money the state was giving me made a big difference. Sam didn’t have expensive tastes (except in rockets!) so we had enough for the two of us. And I didn’t need or want a woman. I was happy exactly the way things were. But I had to get him home, fed and changed. It was championship day. There was an actual crowd there to watch the game. Burns was antsy. He fiddled with the batting order before deciding to leave it the way we’d been doing it. I figured when we settled in to play, it would be fine. Both teams were amped and the first two innings saw a total of five errors between them. Even Sam had one, overthrowing first. Then they settled in. The boys had come to play. It was the top of the 7th in a seven inning game. We were down by one. Jace reached first on a two out walk. That brought Sam to the plate. I admit I was anxious. Our last out. I clapped and said some vague thing coaches say and players ignore. I definitely, definitely, definitely didn’t want to put pressure on him. Win or lose, Sam was my boy. He was going to be my perfect boy either way. I had too much of that ‘winning is the only way to get the old man’s respect’ bullshit to lay that crap on Sam. But, I really wanted him to get a hit. Just a hit. Reach first. He let a strike get passed him without swinging. Then a powerful swing, enough power for a home run, but he cut over the ball. He was quickly 0-2. He tapped one foul, back of first. Then a second foul, just a little tap, again back of first. Then he was way out in front of one, slamming it into the screen of our dugout shed. Then a long foul ball. I had to give the kid credit. He was fighting hard to stay alive. Then the pitcher made a mistake. He hung a ‘not very fast’ fast ball over the plate about chest high. And Sam got every bit of it. You could hear the bat as he made contact. The tinny hollow sound from the aluminum bats they used. It sounded like a solid hit. I looked up and it was a long fly ball. I could see Bobby, the first base coach, send Jace to second. Right. Go. It’s two outs, go. I was staring at the ball. It wasn’t going to be a home run. He got it between the center fielder and right fielder and it was even money if either one of them would get to it. I was waving Jace around. It was two outs. Send him. The right fielder had the angle. It was going to be close. Close. Then the right fielder held up. Just one step. Held up one step and that was all it took. The ball hit and they were running to pick it up. I waved Jace around third. They wouldn’t get him. But Sam? He was half way to second. I waved him around. “Come on.” I whispered, my arm doing the windmill. “Come on, Sam!” They hit the cut off man dead away. He turned, a really good first baseman I think, and fired toward third. I put my hands out for Sam to slide. Every neuron in my brain was saying ‘Don’t slide head first’. There was too big a chance of overshooting the bag. But I couldn’t get it out and he wouldn’t be able to process it and do the right thing. He either knew or he didn’t. It was on the player to play. I had my arms out to tell him to slide. Perfect pop up slide. Safe! Safe! Safe! Safe! I wanted to scream out loud. He was bouncing up and down on the bag in sheer ecstasy. I wanted to grab him up and sling him around. I was so happy for him. I held back though as I watched his pure joy. I don’t think the expression on my face hid my emotions, though. What a hit! What a hit! Sam pitch counted their guy and they were like us, getting to the bottom of the barrel. The kid they brought in wasn’t much. Jared, Burn’s son, slapped a ball over the short stop’s head and Sam scored to take elazığ escort the lead. So the boss got to see his kid get the go ahead run. They got out of the inning on the next batter. We struck their first batter out, and walked the next one. We moved the infield over toward first. Sam was rocking back and forth and I just had to let it go. But then he stopped as the pitch was thrown. He was set, ready. The batter swung late. A right handed hitter late on a grounder. Jace was a good boy, went to his knee, and fielded it cleanly. Just like I had taught him. Field first, then throw. Do the first thing right and then the second thing in order. A grounder to the second baseman. A million times in baseball this has been done. A million times. Jace fielded it and fed it, underhanded, to Sam who got the out at second. Perfectly executed! Then Sam zipped it to first for out number three. 4-6-3 baby! A twin killing! The A’s were champions of a minor league Little League and Sam was the hero of the day. It was sweeter than any victory in my life. Seeing Sam smiling and happy, little boys falling all over themselves in delirious joy. You can’t beat it. Then we took them for pizza. Burns paid. And that gang of greedy guts devoured pie after pie. By the time I got Sam home, I knew he would be hard to settle down. He was excited, chattering away, talking about every play, every throw, how great they were. When we got to the door, there was a note taped to it. It read ‘You need to call me, pedo’ with a phone number. I looked at it and wadded it up. Sam paid no attention to it and kept talking excitedly, lost in his own world. My heart was pounding though. My whole world, the focus of everything, got narrower. The walls were closing in. My palms were sweating. Somebody knew. But who? The foster mother! I knew it. I knew it. Sam was surprised that I didn’t want to play our naked game, not even after he bounced up and down on my lap. I made him sleep on the couch that night even though, once again, he came in and slept in my bed. I knew it didn’t matter but it seemed like my whole world was about to end. Everybody would know. My picture would be in the paper. It would be on the internet. My family would know. Prison or worse. I thought about the best way to kill myself. I figured that was better than being arrested. When I didn’t call her, she showed up. Pissed. Taking Sam had cost them money. “You took money out of my pocket, pervert.” She said, yelling loud, wanting the neighbors to hear. I thought about letting her in and decided against it. An innocent person wouldn’t, I thought. “And you’re going to make it right. If you want to fuck little boy ass, it’ll cost you. $520 a month. That’s how much you owe me every single month.” I shook my head. “You are fucked in the head, bitch. Get the fuck out or I’ll call the cops.” I said as I slammed the door. She beat on the door, yelling and screaming. Accusing me. Shouting to the neighbors. I had thought about just giving her the money but, again, an innocent person wouldn’t. She kept screaming and beating and I did call the cops. I explained the situation to the 911 operator. Sam had been taken from her home and given to me and she was over here accusing me of all sorts of things, demanding blackmail money. She promised to send an officer but I didn’t think it would happen quickly. It didn’t. By the time the cop got there, she had screamed herself out and left, swearing that I would be sorry. Sam was shaking, frightened. He didn’t want to go back. He stayed close to me, wanting me to know that he didn’t want to go back. When the cop came, I explained the situation. He took notes and nodded, saying little. He looked around. “It’s a one bedroom apartment?” “Yeah, we are moving the day after tomorrow to a two bedroom on the floor below.” I said. The bed on the couch was obvious. “I’m going to talk to the boy.” He said. “Sure.” I said. But my heart was sinking. Sam was nine. He had limited understanding. But I was in deep and the only thing to do was keep treading. He took Sam outside to talk with him alone. I could only wait. Hoping. I didn’t pray. I didn’t know how to ask God for something in this circumstance. In a bit, the cop came back with Sam and handed me his card. He started telling me about how to file for a temporary restraining order. He called it a ‘T.R.O.’. If I had that, the next time she came over and tried that stunt, they could arrest her. “Here, let me give you my cell.” The cop said, reaching for his card. “Next time you shoot off rockets, give me a call. My son is into that. It used to be dinosaurs and now it’s rockets.” “Sure thing.” I said, shaking his hand. “Have a good day.” “You too.” He said. When he was gone, I gave a sigh of relief. I looked at Sam and he was smiling. “It’s our secret Tyler. Nobody understands but us, right?” “That’s right.” He smiled. But that wasn’t the end of it. The bitch actually made a complaint. And they jumped right on it. On moving day, the same woman that had brought Sam to me showed up to investigate. My boss was there. Jim and Bobby, the other two coaches, were there. Jim elvankent escort brought his sons, Jace and Tristan. Tristan was 13 and a little undersized but he was litfing and helping. Even my ex was thre. While we were separated, she got knocked by one of my ex teammates and the divoce was bitter. Lately, we’ve patched things up and become friends. She now has a two year old toddler, Ethan, who is a cute kid. And when the DFACS lady came,they all got to hear it. Everyone of them. . “Mrs. Loudon, Sam’s former foster mother has made a complaint. She claims that you are molesting Sam.” She said. “I’m not.” I said. My ex laughed out loud. “I can promise you that Tyler is NOT a gay pedophile. I would know” Burns was all over it. “That’s stupid. Somebody made a complaint? That’s ridiculous. Tyler, I’m calling my lawyer. We’ll get him over here and take care of this. People can’t be allowed to make wild accusations and get away with it.” “I’m sure it’s nothing but I need to talk with Sam. I think we can get this wrapped up quickly.” My heart was beating fast. Rapid fire. For another time, it seemed like the world would end. “You can talk with Sam when the lawyer gets here. If he says you can.” Burns said. “The lawyer will tell you that I don’t need his or anybody else’s permission. Sam is a ward of the state. I can interview him anytime I want.” She said, very professionally. “I’ll get him.” I said, hoping against hope that he would do as good with her as he did with the cop. When they went off to talk, Burns, Jim and Bobby tried to comfort me. I explained that she had come around wanting the money that they were paying me for Sam to go to her for blackmail. They shook their heads and I told them about the house they lived in and why they had taken Sam out of it. They were entirely on my side. After a few minutes, she came back and told me she would file a report Monday but that would be the end of it. I thanked her, feeling a huge surge of relief. “Did you file for a T.R.O.?” She asked. “Not yet.” “Do.” She said. “The money was important to her. She’s angry about the situation. She might try to do something else over it. Get the T.R.O.. That’s my recommendation.” “Don’t worry.” Burns said, “We’ll be coming down hard on her. She doesn’t know who she is messing with.” I looked around and saw Sam. He looked up at the adults like he didn’t understand. It was actually Burns, my boss, that told Sam not to worry about anything, that it was just adult stuff and that he wasn’t going to have to go anywhere. We finished up the move and all of us had a beer or two, a little tired. Jace’s older brother Tristan, a wiry fourteen year old who was mostly hands and feet and long arms and legs, was trying to weasel a beer from his dad. Sam and Jace were off setting up his new room. “You gonna adopt Sam?” Burns asked. I shrugged a little. “I don’t know. We get along pretty well and he’s had a tough life and he’s a great kid. We’ll have to see how it works out, I guess.” “Well, think about it.” Burns said. “He’s good for you and you’re good for him.” “Yeah.” Jim said. “He’s a happier kid since he met you. More confident.” I nodded. The truth was that I was just hugely relieved. The whole thing could have gone horribly wrong. They could have actually investigated even though it seemed like the cop and the social worker didn’t seem interested in that. Maybe it was because his foster mom didn’t seem very credible since she was clearly just after the money. But it may be that Sam was just good at lying. It occurred to me I didn’t really know the foster mom’s name, which was weird considering that I needed it to get a restraining order. That night I decided that I would sleep in my room and Sam his. I couldn’t have sex with him the night after my world almost ended. Sam had different ideas. He showed up in my room, naked. “Tyler? Are you mad at me?” “No, Sam, of course not. It’s just been a stressful day.” He got on the bed and climbed on top of me. It was his favorite position to start out, sitting on my lap, facing me, smiling. He liked to talk there. Naked, of course. He was totally comfortable being naked. I guess he knew or understood to a certain extent the power his young, beautiful body had over me. “I didn’t say anything to her. I told her about going camping, and shooting off rockets. And how we are going to Kennedy Space Center. And I told her I was happy to get my room and that I was tired of sleeping on the couch and I had a new Freddie Freeman poster and that we won the championship. And she asked if you ever touched me and I said that sometimes you kiss me right there.” He said, pointing to his forehead. “And sometimes you hug me, sometimes you swat my butt, like if I make a good play.” “You did good, Sam. Really, really good.” He nodded. “And you can play with my butt, Tyler. You know, with my butt. And you can play with my thing and I can play with your thing. You know, your thing and my butt?” I laughed a bit. He didn’t quite know how to be subtle. He was so beautiful, so erotic and so effortlessly and guilelessly sexual that the risk I was taking was worth it. eryaman escort I put my hands on his hairless thighs, his velvety hairless skin covering his firm boyish muscles and slowly edged my hands up to his unit, sticking up hard and proud. He giggled and covered himself playfully with both hands, grinning devilishly. I pleaded with him and played at pulling his hands apart as he shook his head “No”. He gave me a peekaboo of his proud hard cock. Then he covered it again. “Well, if you don’t me want to.” I said. He slapped me on my chest. “It’s pretend, silly.” “Nuh uh.” I said. “I want your thing and your butt, just like you said.” He laughed and fell back, his body resting on my stiffening cock, his little pole sticking straight up. He wiggled and squiggled around, rubbing my cock across his back as it got hard for sure. He grabbed himself by the cock and balls, holding them up for me to see. Then he lifted his legs over his head and rolled over, a back flip, ending up beside me, his head next to my waist. Grinning, he reached over and grabbed my dick with his hand. “Why do they think it’s wrong?” He asked. I sucked in a lung full of air. “They think I am taking advantage of you.” “That’s stupid.” He said. He started stroking my cock, studying it intently. He reached down and stroked himself, too. His light touch, his playful touch was perfect. When an involuntary groan escaped me, Sam smiled. He enjoyed giving me pleasure. Partly out of love, I think, but partly because of the power he had over me. He rubbed his finger up my piss vein with a light touch. “Me and Jace, we do this sometimes. He showed me how even before I met you. His brother Tristan told him about it.” Sam said. “Do you play with his brother, too?” Sam shook his head violently. “No, he’s mean.” “But you and Jace enjoy it?” I asked. He shrugged. “I guess.” “You guess?” He grinned. “Yeah.” I rubbed his hair. Experimenting didn’t bother me. It occurred to me that Sam might be gay. I knew I should have had that thought before but I hadn’t. He was so completely boyish that the thought that he would eventually be straight, bi or gay, never really occurred to me. I could only hope that he would look back on this experience and be happy that it happened. He started to suck me. Sloppy and wet. A mouth full of cock, tongue and spit. A young mouth that choked on a fat log when he went too deep. He worked my balls, my big sensitive balls. He was learning my pleasure spots. Learning how to push my buttons. He was the most responsive lover I had ever had. The one that most freely flung themselves into my pleasure, already confident in their own. It was a revelation of what pure intimacy was. I loved the action, but I wanted that ass. So, I got him up into the 69 position, him crouched over me, his ass up. I wanted that tight, beautiful ass. His sweet ass. We didn’t do it every time. He was the one to say. And he was saying he wanted his ass played with. But he often wanted me to know that he was a boy and he had a dick, too. And that dick needed attention. Hard and curved up, pointed toward his chin. I was willing to tend to it for him. Sometimes he face fucked me, just to let me know that he could do that, too. I sometimes wondered what it was going to be like in future years, when he was no longer little. When he had a full grown cock and he burned with the same lustful fire that I do? How would we navigate that? Would he want to have a girlfriend or boyfriend his own age? Would his attraction to me be lost? I love him and want him and I suspect that I always will. But perhaps he would not want me the same way. I put him on his back, a pillow under his hips. He put his legs up, bent at the knees in the tuck position. I got the lube from the night stand drawer and took some time getting us both ready. Then I was over him, over his lean, perfect young body. My hard dick twitching in anticipation. I thought I saw a look of need in his eyes. I took my cock and pushed it through his tight hole. I watched his face as I entered him. Was it a look of pain or of ecstasy? He moaned as he stroked his own hard cocklet. I slid all the way in. “Oh, yeah.” He said. I slid it back and forth, watching him pleasure himself as I did. His little hand went up and down on that junior size prick as I fed him my pole. In and out. Slowly, gently. Then harder and faster but not wanting to split him in two. Careful. Control the lust. Rhythmic. Steady fuck. “Uhhh.” Sam whimpered. I fucked him slowly as he flailed on it. I continued to study his face, his eyes tightly shut, concentrating on the sensation. Then he opened them with a pleading look on his face, like he needed something desperately. I knew what. Release. He smiled. I fucked him harder. I knew he needed it. “Oh, yeah. Sweet, tight ass. Beautiful boy.” I said. “Tyler.” He moaned. “Oh yeah.” Harder. A little harder. He flailed on it some more. He couldn’t breath. He tightened up and seized up and then went limp. For a horrible second, I thought I had fucked him to death but then he came too and smiled. I pulled out of his ass and cranked out a load, dropping it on his face, aiming for his smacking lips and mostly missing. He licked up the mess from his lips as best he could. I loved it when he came, when he boygasmed. The intensity of his orgasm. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. I loved it. And I had done it for him. My perfect boy.
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