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Subject: The Dangling cross 4 Chapter Four: Danny came out of the bathroom dressed, with a wet head, and a pout that made me want to ball him up in my arms. But of course, I didn’t. I handed him a turkey sandwich and a plate full of sliced veggies and ranch dressing and gave him the remote. “My turn,” I said; I had already got into my bathrobe and retreated to the solitude of the shower. Before I turned on the spigot, I could hear Sam and Danny’s voices dully through the thin wall. There was wallpaper in the bathroom, yellowed with age. I shook my head. “I hope we don’t get bedbugs,” I muttered, and climbed into the shower. As the hot water pounded my head and ran down my face, images of Danny’s face flickered through my mind. His cheeks, bright pink with the cold as we trekked through the parking lot. His blue eyes, looking furtively at me just now as he came out of the bathroom. He was so fucking unbelievably beautiful. So gorgeous, so lovely, so full of spunk. I hated that word, especially when it referred to semen, but that’s exactly what he was full of, and I wanted to milk it out of him. Fuck it out of him. I wanted to feel his tight little body tense around my cock as I ploughed his virgin hole. I wanted to watch him– I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair to rinse out the last of the shampoo. No more, no more. Think about sunny Spain. Think about the espresso machine my sister got me, and the nice cappuccinos I’d make for me and Sam in the mornings from now on. Think about– What if he lived with us? Came downstairs in nothing but soccer shorts in the summer, and sat at the bar with a bowl of Captain Crunch, eyes glued to a nintendo? What if I could run my hands down his body anytime I wanted? What if that teenage attitude was held in check by the power of my voice and authority? What if that boy sassed me too much on purpose, and did so because he knew that he’d get taken away from whatever game he was playing? What if he knew just what to say that would make me summon him and bend him over my knee– “Cappuccino machine,” I said out loud, as if that would help break the chain of thoughts. Of course, it didn’t work. Thoughts about spanking his smooth ass, and then letting him rest his head on my lap when he was done being punished. Working the taut masses of his asscheeks as he lay on his tummy on the couch with his nose buried in my crotch. My cock lengthening as his breath warmed it through the layers of my shorts and underwear. “Daddy, can I put it in my mouth?” I could hear the rasp of his voice, could feel the cornsilk of his hair running between my fingers. Could see his bright eyes blinking as he looked up at me in anticipation. “You wanna show daddy you’re sorry?” “Yes daddy.” “You wanna show daddy you’re a good boy?” “Yes, daddy.” My cock was hard now, and I was working myself back and forth with one hand under the hot water–and at this point, maybe it was God who intervened. OR maybe it was just a really shitty Motel 6. The water went frigid. I screamed in shock, deflected the spray, turned off the water. I shivered a moment, and reached for one of those pathetic towels. When I emerged, Danny and Sam were watching Spongebob. “What happened to you?” Danny asked. “Ran out of hot water.” “You were in there for a long time,” Danny said. “Yeah?” I asked. I sank down onto the bed Sam and I had claimed, and checked my phone. It was only–how was this possible?– it was only four-fifteen PM. The sun was setting, and the snow was falling so thick it seemed it had already been nighttime for hours. “Can I call my stepsister again?” Danny asked. “Of course, kiddo,” I said, and offered my phone. Danny only had it in his hand for a minute before he thrust it back toward me. “Still going straight to voicemail?” I asked. He nodded, and suddenly the teenage attitude and cockiness dissolved into a puddle of tears. In moments, he was shuddering and crying on the edge of his bed, narrow shoulders trembling and face buried in his hands. Sam looked petrified, as usual–emotions were a realm of ickiness and terror for him; I, however was never going to let the stress of a crying child turn me to stone. I wadded up one of the extra blankets from our bed, wrapped Danny up, sat down next to him, and held him tight. He cried about feeling scared, about feeling like nobody cared about him, about not knowing what to do. For the five minutes that he was crying, I cupped his head with one hand and held him around the shoulders with the other, and he unleashed a mess of tears and snot and words that were as heartbreaking as they were incoherent. He was a lost little kid, and somehow me and my boyfriend were the only people in the world who seemed to care about him right now. “You’re safe with us, okay?” I said. “We’re gonna keep you safe and we care about you.” “But you don’t,” Danny shuddered, “don’t love me. Nobody really loves me, now that Gramma can’t remember me.” “Your grandma can’t remember you?” I asked. There was a big, yawning darkness opening up in my belly. This poor little kid was far, far more vulnerable than I wanted to think about. “Y-yeah,” Danny said, wiping his nose again, afyon escort “she don’t recognize me. Since like, last year.” “That’s really sad, Danny. I’m sorry.” “Yeah,” Danny said, and then he shrugged his way out of my embrace. He sat up, blew his nose on the dirty pair of underwear he had discarded on the floor, and dragged the blanket wrapped around himself to the window. “I dunno when Steph is gonna answer her phone,” he said. “When this happens she’s usually on a bender or somethin. Sometimes I don’t hear from her for a few weeks or even longer.” “And your mom is in rehab?” “Or jail,” Danny said. “I’m sorry Danny,” Sam said, finally breaking his silence. “I don’t know what to say. I guess I’m just really glad we met you. I wish we could help you. You’re a really sweet kid.” “I don’t want to make your guys’ lives harder,” Danny said. “Thanks for helping me, but I guess I should probably call my Aunt and try to get back to where you found me.” “Nothings’ happening until the snowstorm is over,” I said. Danny looked up at me then, with a flicker of something in his eye. “Why don’t we just chill out until then?” I asked. * * * * * We had a phenomenal amount of time to kill, and nothing but basic cable. I managed to find a movie all three of us could tolerate: Back to the Future II. We laughed a little, but mostly we tried to make Danny feel safe and distracted. We let him sit on his own bed until it seemed clear that he was making puppy eyes at us one time too many. “Kiddo, do you wanna come cuddle?” I asked. Sam looked a little uncomfortable, but I planted Danny right between us and he snuggled into the pillows and blankets. We were all fully clothed, at least–nothing inappropriate about that , right? That is, until he lay his head on my shoulder. My heart fluttered, and I couldn’t help but reach out for his hand. His small, warm, clammy little paw. His fingers wrapped around my much larger hand, awkward. It felt like the move lovers would make, and in spite of my heart pounding with excitement (or because of it), I gave him one squeeze, and then broke the grasp. I took his hand in both of mine–a much more paternal, or wholesome feeling gesture. “You guys are really nice to me,” Danny said. “You’re really sweet and nice to us too,” I said. “And it’s not cuz you’re trying to fuck me, either,” Danny said. I laughed awkwardly. “You keep bringing that up,” Sam said. “Yeah, I mean. I guess I’m just surprised. My whole family acts like gay dudes are just constantly thirsty for teenage boys.” “I mean,” I said. “It’s just mostly a stereotype, and a really ugly one at that. But it’s not unheard of” “So you guys aren’t, like,” Danny murmured. “Pedophiles?” Sam asked. “No.” “Not pedophiles,” Danny said, rolling his eyes. He sighed in exasperation. “I mean like, are you guys. I dunno.” “What are you trying to ask about?” I asked. Danny’s face was getting red, he looked frustrated. “Nevermind,” he said. He slouched back against the headboard and we kept watching the movie. Peeking down, however, I noticed that there was a sharp tent in his sweatpants. Surreptitiously, he brushed the back of his hand against it briefly. Rubbing. Just very discreetly. He was so, so horny for us. “You guys aren’t into me at all?” he asked. Now his tone was pleading, and I couldn’t help myself. “All right,” I said, in a tone of exasperation. “Yes, Danny, we are. I think you’re hot as fuck in fact,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I can do anything with you.” Numerous emotions played across his face: confusion, frustration, hope. Sam was silent, looking back and forth at us from the TV screen. “Hot as fuck,” Danny said, snuggling into me. “What do you think, Sam?” “No comment,” said my boyfriend. Danny giggled. He was getting bolder. And honesty was, apparently, not the best policy. After another minute of watching the movie, Danny pulled the blankets up to his chest but kept one arm beneath them. I could tell within moments that he was “readjusting” himself down there, but then it was clear that he was doing more than readjusting. Slowly, discreetly, his arm muscle was moving against my bicep. He was gently working his cock, and rubbing his bony thigh against mine. Then he made a move: I felt his fingers dance across my thigh, just above the knee. He grabbed my kneecap for a moment, then gripped my inner thigh and squeezed. It was all I could do not to cum right then. And it was that moment, I think, that I stopped caring. I reached down, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. It was at this moment that I realized his left hand was going in the other direction–and that Sam was also, at the very least, holding it. “Sam,” I said. My boyfriend looked sheepish, a little flushed. “Yeah?” “We need to talk.” A moment later, the two of us were in the bathroom. “Are you hard?” I asked. “Wha–” Sam stammered, “y-yeah.” “He wants us so bad,” I said. “I knowww,” Sam murmured, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “He’s agrı escort so fucking cute.” “I know,” my boyfriend said, sighing. “Can we?” I asked. “Can we?” Sam asked, looking upward toward God, or whatever universe was up there above the tobacco-stained drop ceiling. “I guess we have to ask him,” I said. “We’re deluding ourselves,” Sam replied, “he can’t consent.” “He doesn’t need to. He just needs to assent. And we can keep him in control the whole time. If we lived in a just world, he’d be doing this with a bunch of other 13 year olds at a slumber party. Instead, he has two far more experienced, far more caring, far more mature, far more emotionally safe men to fool around with.” Sam shook his head. “Okay,” he said. “But we have to be really, really fucking careful.” We put the phones in the car. We talked to Danny about everything: yes, no, maybe. The rules of consent. We made him swear up and down never to tell anybody. We made him rehearse and repeat what he’d say instead. They were two nice guys. They were from Syracuse. They drove an Audi. They slept in a separate bed from me. I thought they were cute. They told me no. I showed my ass to them and they scolded me. We went to bed after watching I Love Lucy. They dropped me off in the morning. I didn’t even get their phone numbers. When the whole conversation was over with, when we had finally exhausted the process and looked at each other with pregnant, frightened pauses, Sam and I were far more jittery than our adolescent suitor. He looked at us with a look of confusion. “Why are we doing all this? Why are you guys so scared?” he asked. “Don’t you trust me?” I sighed. “Look, Danny,” I said. “It’s hard to understand but you might feel really different about this in ten years. Think we were creepy and awful. Regret the whole thing.” “I’d never regret this!” Danny said. “That’s crazy.” “It happens all the time, though, Danny. People change. They look back on experiences they had in their teenage years and feel like they cant’ believe the choices they made.” “Well I’m not changing my mind.” “If only we could get that in writing, with a notary signature.” “What?” Danny asked. I sighed. “Look, this is as good as its going to get, and that’s okay. I trust you, Danny. Sam, do you feel trusting yet?” “I guess so,” Sam said. His brow was furrowed, though. “Danny, promise us you’ll never try to hurt us,” Sam said. “I promise I will never hurt you,” Danny said. “We promise never to hurt you, okay?” I said. Danny nodded. I couldn’t help myself; I reached out and hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around me. “Why don’t you tell us what sounds nice to you. We’ll go slow.” The boy pouted a little. A blush slowly spread across his cheeks. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m too shy.” “How about kissing. Have you ever kissed a boy before?” I asked. “No. I kissed girls though.” “Same basically,” Sam said. To my surprise, my boyfriend leaned in. “Do you want to kiss me, Danny?” Our boy visibly shivered. He nodded. Leaned in. I watched in amazement as the two blondes locked lips. Sam suckled the boy’s lower lip, then kissed him on the corner of the mouth and drew away. Danny trembled. “Wow,” he said. “Wanna try with me?” I asked. Danny looked at me in apprehension. “The beard looks like it will hurt.” “It is scratchy,” I admitted. Danny still leaned in. His face was so close I could feel the head from his breath, and smell his damp hair. His eyes sparkled and looked into mine, and I felt my whole body seized with desire; I had to resist the urge to pull him into my arms. Instead, I gently kissed his sweet, sweet mouth. His lips were so soft. His skin, so smooth. I heard the slightest little moan as I kissed the place where the smile muscles are; he shivered and then I couldn’t resist–I kissed his jaw, then dove in to kiss his throat. “Ohh!” he moaned, and his hands went feebly into the air, his limbs wrapping around my head. I embraced him, his tiny little frame just engulfed in my arms. I sucked the side of his neck and then let him go. He panted, shivered, and readjusted what looked like a very, very hard cock. “That was so hot,” he whispered. I had to rearrange my own cock; it was painfully hard. I wanted to throw the boy onto the bed right then and take him; I wanted to give pleasure to every inch of him–but instead, I cleared my throat. “How about we play spin the bottle?” I said. We didn’t have a glass bottle, and a plastic shampoo bottle felt like cheating. The snow was falling thick, and I remembered something–in the back of the trunk, a christmas gift I had forgotten. I trudged out into the snow. The distant highway was silent, and the thick powder absorbed all sounds besides my own breath and the crunch of my footsteps. I opened the trunk, rifled around in the laundry basket full of our christmas presents, and pulled out a bottle of prosecco my sister had gotten us. A minute later, the sparkling wine was on the floor. “Do you know the rules?” I asked. Danny shook his head. “God, you’re such akdere escort an angel,” I whispered. He smiled at me, and I pinched the earlobe that held the dangling cross earring, and used it to pull him in for a kiss on the mouth. He giggled as I suckled his lower lip. “You spin the bottle,” I said, “and whoever it points to, you have to make out with for oh, how long would you say is fair, Sam?” “30 seconds.” “Okay. 30 Seconds it is. I get to go first.” I spun the bottle, and it wheeled around and around and eventually pointed to Sam. Danny looked dejected. “Cheer up kiddo,” I said. “You get to time us. Come here, babe.” Sam crawled over on all fours. His long blonde bangs fell across his eyes, and I swept them behind his ear before we locked lips. His mouth tasted sweet and minty, and we gave Danny a sensual, slow demonstration of what grownup kissing should look like. My cock strained in my sweats, and my heart pounded as I glanced over at Danny, whose cheeks were already so rosy I wondered if he was going to die of lust. “Can I,” he said, stammering, “can I like, touch myself?” “Only if you take off your clothes,” I said. He smiled. Our little exhibitionist shucked off his T-shirt and sweats in an instant, and then I got to see it: his gorgeous, uncircumcized teenage dick. It was probably 6 inches long already, fat and fully erect, standing amid a bush of straight, dark-blonde hair. A bead of precum was glistening at the tip. He started milking himself as he watched us continue to make out; meanwhile, both of us were staring at him. “Okay,” I said, after a while, “it’s definitely been more than thirty seconds.” “Oh, sorry,” Danny said, sheepish. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “It’s my turn. My boyfriend spun the bottle and to the chagrin of probably all three of us, it landed on me. Danny groaned. “I want it to be my turn,” he said. “Patience, boy,” I said; the slightest note of dom top authority crept into my voice, and I watched Danny visibly shiver. “That was hot,” he whispered. “Do you talk to Sam like that when–you know?” “Always,” I said. “That’s really hot,” Danny said. His voice was husky. “Do you want me to talk to you like that, Danny?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. Sam had started idly kissing the side of my neck, sucking on my ear. “You said earlier that you like Daddy porn,” I said, “does it seem hot to call me sir? Or daddy?” “Yeah, totally,” Danny said emphatically. “Yeah what?” I asked. “Yeah, sir. I mean, yes sir.” “Good boy,” I said. “Can I tell you what to do, Danny? You can always say, no thank you, sir.” “Okay,” Danny said. He was hunched, still milking his cock idly while he watched us. “I mean, Okay sir.” “Stop jerking yourself,” I said. “You’re going to cum too soon.” “Yes, sir,” Danny said. “Squeeze your own balls,” I said. “And keep watching.” “Yes, sir,” Danny murmured. I made out with Sam for another thirty seconds; this time aggressive and forcing my tongue as far into his mouth as I could; both of us were moaning and stroking one another’s cocks. “Okay, time,” Danny said. “It’s my turn,” I said. I spun the bottle. It swiveled around–and landed on our beautiful, beautiful teenage boy. “Oh fuck,” Danny murmured. “Come sit in my lap,” I said. Danny nodded, stood over me, straddling me a moment with his cock in front of my face; I couldn’t resist. “Hold on,” I said. I grasped one of his asscheeks: tiny, pert, a perfectly muscular little handful. He grunted and thrust his hips forward and I sucked the base of his cock. Danny moaned and I smelled the sweet odor of his balls. There was no gameyness or manly musk to it, yet; just pure, sweet boyish spice. My own perverted sexual orientation, of course, was probably at work, but it smelled to me like star anise. Delicate fingers gripped both sides of my head as I inhaled his smooth ballsack into my mouth; he gasped and giggled and I gently sucked and tugged at both of his testicles. “Okay okay!” he whispered, and I let go. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt the sensation of a warm, eager mouth around his cock. I felt his whole body tremble as I skinned back his beautiful lance, and tasted the underside, then closed my mouth and began sucking. He groaned and thrust into my mouth, and I felt my own cock spasm with excitement as I worked him back and forth with my hand. “Ohh, oh no!” he stammered; his cock swelled, and then all at once I tasted semen. Five, six, seven spurts. He grunted and gripped my head, and thrust his cock as far down my throat as it would go. His little body trembled. He breathed heavily, and when it was over, he was resting half his body weight on my shoulders. This time, I swallowed. “Oh dammit!” he said. “I didn’t want to come that fast!” “It’s okay,” I said, stroking his smooth ass and the small of his back. “But I wanted to come with–” he paused. He looked at me and Sam furtively, and a blush spread over his cheeks. “Nevermind.” “Go on,” I said. Danny shook his head. “Don’t worry, Danny,” I said, taking a swig of gatorade again. “There’s plenty of time tonight for you to come with my cock up your ass.” Our little boy went from a rosy blush to a beet-red one. Then a smile broke across his lips, he giggled, and he sank down into my arms.

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