Tatawaw

©2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.

.oOo.
Chapter 6 - Give him a nice fuck

We head back to my room, Bullie holding my hand tight and skipping. We pass Old George, the janitor. George offers us each a candy. He always keeps a pocketful. Bullie takes one; I decline. George pops mine in his mouth. "Larry's gonna fuck me, George. He ain't fucked no one in a whole week and he needs my ass real bad."

"That's great, Bullie. You be sure to give him a nice fuck then."

"I will, George. I promise. See you later. Thanks for the candy." I look back over my shoulder and Old George is trying to stifle his laughter. I just shrug.

George is a bit overweight and is kind of slow moving around. He blames it on arthritis. And he needs to stop to pee like every half hour it seems. "Damn prostate," he says. But he is dedicated and gets everything done in due time, keeping the halls polished, the plumbing in good order and the electricity safe, and making sure there is plenty of heat for all the semi-clad bodies in the house. When he needs some extra muscle, he can call on Chip and Shumba, and Comley will pay them for helping. George calls the younger lads his eye candy, and will take one to his room every couple weeks or so for some fun. I hear he can still deliver a pretty good fuck. Of course he's on Viagra.

I close my door and look at my little lover boy, as we both kick off our shoes and socks. His grin extends from ear to ear. I pick Bullie up off the floor and cradle his bottom on my arm as we kiss. A long lingering kiss. Eyes closed. As anxious as both of us are for this fuck, we are not in a hurry. We both intend to savor every moment.

I bring us over to the bed and sit down. We unlock our lips and smile at each other. I sit Bullie on my knees with his feet around my waist. I begin to unbutton his blue shirt as he sweetly unbuttons mine. We both giggle a little as nervous fingers work to push round ivory through cloth slots. Having released my last button, right above my belt, Bullie looks again at me and hangs his arms loose. Most of his shirt is already out of his pants. Boys' shirttails don't like being imprisoned. So I only have to free one last corner and then I gently slip the shirt off his tiny shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I slip my hands into his waist and grab the end of his size 5 white undershirt, pull it up over his head, and let it join the shirt. Bullie has gorgeous tawny skin, like a soft doe or rich amber, like the color of his khakis when he accidentally wets his pants. His hairless torso shines like a bronze statue and his two little nipples are like miniature chestnuts. I rub them with my thumbs. His navel is an outie.

Bullie reaches to pull out my shirt. I purposely push my belly out against my waistband to make him struggle a little. He tugs and tugs and succeeds in freeing my shirttail. Then he reaches up and pushes the shirt off one shoulder, then the other. He slides it down one arm and off, then the other arm. We leave it lie behind me on the bed. Bullie scrunches the material of my undershirt in his hands, grabbing some of my belly hair in the process. He pulls it out of my pants and begins pushing it up my chest. I hold his waist and he stands up on my knees. He puts his hands on my head to steady himself and I lift my arms up to the ceiling. Shakily, he pulls my shirt up. When he gets the material to my wrists, I think he is about to lose his balance. I quickly pull one hand free and wrap my arms around him. My face is against his trouser fly, and it smells delicious. I rub my hands along his buttocks caressing them like two little grapefruits. I stare up at him. Again we smile. I shake the last remnant of my undershirt off my wrist and it drops on top of his.

Bullie places his hands on my head again and I unbutton his waist, then unzip his fly. I guide his khakis down to his ankles and he precariously lifts one foot, then the other to get his pants off. I run my hands up and down his skinny hairless legs, like two pieces of driftwood worn smooth by the wind and water. I fondle his boytool through his Scooby-Doo cotton undies. That makes him giggle and squiggle, but he makes no effort to get away. He does however plop his ass back down on my knees and reaches over to unbutton my waist and unzip my fly.

"We can't take my pants off sitting like this, can we?" Bullie wags his head. He hops down to the floor and I lie back on the bed. I lift my ass up so Bullie can pull my khakis free. Then I lift my feet out straight and he pulls my pants off. I spread my freed legs to show him my light blue 2xist bikini briefs. Then he hops on to the mattress, we both scooch over to the middle of the bed and lay our heads down on the pillows.

Bullie's shoulder is tucked into my left armpit and I kiss the top of his head. My left hand begins to rub his ass through the cotton. The little six-year old's left hand draws tickly circles in my chest hair. I look down and see him intent on his mission. Bullie is a hunter, moving silently through the undergrowth like all his ancestors, seeking his prize. He works his way along my treasure trail and reaches my briefs. He slips the tips of his fingers under my waistband.

I too slip my fingertips into his Scoobies and run my middle finger up and down along the length of his crack. I feel his lovely hole, the entrance to his saptuaan, his longhouse, where the most sacred tribal rituals take place. As a white man, I am truly honored to be granted this privilege.

Bullie wiggles free from my arm and kneels above me. We smile at each other. I reach over and gently lift his waistband over his precious little nail. Six years ago, the doctors at the hospital cut his foreskin, so his pretty brown helmet grins at me. His smooth little ballsack is still quite tight. Such a lovely little boy. I slip his tighties down to his knees. He flops over, takes his undies off and flings them to the floor. Then kneels again and rubs my package. I bend my knees, plant my feet flat on the bed and raise my ass an inch. The Cree boy slips my briefs off my hairy ass, up my hairy thighs, then down my hairy shins. I raise my feet high up in the air so he has to stretch to pull this final item of clothing off. Now we are two naked savages, in complete communion with Mother Earth. May she bless us.

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.