Stories of an Old Boy

By: XPud
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

xpud@tickiestories.us

Chapter 3

So, a funny thing happened on the way to the shower. Okay, it was IN the shower, and it really wasn't funny, but STILL. So, by this point, Matty's mom is passed out on the couch with some evening sitcom blaring in the living room (Matty tells me that it's basically his job to turn off the TV at night). Matty and I walk out of his bedroom, erections out like batons in a parade, gooey ropes of my cum draped across Matty's fine abs (and chest, and neck, and one on his left ear), and head to the bathroom. The bathtub itself isn't huge; it's just one of those standard-issue guest bathroom type tubs; however, it does have a nice shower wand with adjustable settings.

Matty steps in and deftly adjusts the water to a tolerable temperature before waving me in and closing the curtain. He takes the wand and points it to the ground to avoid the dreaded cold-water-spit that shower heads always threaten you with. Before I even get a chance to react, though, he whirls around and aims the gun straight at my face, leaving me sputtering, "Ack! Pth! Stop!" while he cackles maniacally. I reach out, yank the wand from his hand, and turn the flow on HIS face; he backs up to get away from the deluge and bumps the pull-open faucet knob with his butt, turning off the water and leaving us both cold and feeling utterly absurd. We crack up laughing.

"Go ahead and turn it on," I say after catching my breath. "I promise I won't attack you in the face with it."

"You better not," he warns, and pulls the water faucet knob. The water spits out angrily before returning to its usual flow.

As he turns around to face me, I spray the jizz off of him methodically, working from ear to neck to chest to abs. As I get to the groin, though, I ask: "Hey. Ever stood over a fountain?"

"No," he responds innocently. "Why?"

I click the shower wand's dial to the "rain" function, the one that is not as fierce but just strong enough; suddenly, I squat and direct the shower straight up under Matty's balls. "Aie!" he squeals, nearly jumping out of the tub, "that tickles!" No sooner does he get those words out of his mouth than a power-washing stream of pee flies out of his currently soft cock, nailing me square in the face. I accidentally catch the stream directly in my open mouth, leaving me sputtering in surprise and Matty gasping in shock and embarrassment as the wand swings from my hand to hit the tile wall. "Oh my God!" he says, still peeing and trying unsuccessfully to stymie the flow with just his pelvic muscles and squeezing thighs. He finally grabs his penis and pinches it hard, face as red as his dick head.

My erection throbs painfully in reminder that it still hasn't gone down and doesn't plan to in the near future. "It's cool. Let it go," I say, putting my fingers between Matty's and prying his pinched fingers open. Immediately, the stream returns in full force, which I take again on my face, down my chest, and in my mouth; the taste of the clear pee is only slightly saltier than the huge glass of water he drank at dinner. I look up to see Matty's face: confused, shocked, curious...maybe even a little excited.

As his stream dies down, his dick picks back up, once again pointing up to his chin. He breathes, "You just drank my pee."

"And it wasn't half bad. You stay pretty hydrated," I say with a ridiculous grin.

"Ewwwww!" he says, breaking into an uncertain smile. "Why would you drink it?"

I stand up, taking the wand to wash myself off. "Well, I know we stopped playing, but here's another Truth: I kinda... find pee to be a big turn-on."

This time, his face turns from shock to just curiosity. " ...really?" he asks. "So like, people peeing, gives you a boner?"

I point down. "Depends, but yeah."

"So like... when I peed my pants, you... "

I look aside, thankful that he doesn't know that I made that happen on purpose. "Yeah, but& well, yeah." Throb, throb. Down, dick & I'm busy at the moment.

" ...huh." He thinks, pensively. "Isn't that called, like, a fetish?"

"Yeah & wait, you know what a fetish is?"

"Mm-hmm," he nods. "It's like when you get hard from things that aren't just sex, right?"

"Right. So, yeah. That's definitely a fetish of mine."

"Hm." He doesn't respond, but seems to be cataloging this new information.

I take the wand and rinse both of us, if only to keep from getting cold again. "Here, turn around," I offer, handing him the wand. He puts it back in its holder and presents his beautiful backside to me. "Remember this?" I say as I rest my hands on his shoulders and dig my thumbs in. His moans are ample enough an answer. I work him like putty, his youthful skin and muscles stretching and kneading in my hands. Same as before, I work him slowly, methodically, bringing him closer with each squeeze. When his back is once again resting on my chest, I work his pec muscles and shoulders, watching his head nearly lolling in moaning pleasure.

I run my hands across his flat, smooth torso, down his sides, around his hips, across his gorgeous ass, and slowly slip one finger into his crack, just to see the response. As expected, he jolts up with a gasp and stiffens slightly. "You like that?" I say as I suck on my other finger, lubing it up for insertion.

As I press it to his hole, however, he immediately clenches closed and walks forward, away from the finger. He looks around hastily, says, "I have to go," and gets out of the shower; grabbing a towel without drying off, he then powerwalks into his bedroom.

Well, that didn't go as planned. I hastily follow him with my own towel, drying off as best I can whilst walking to his room. Inside, I find him sitting on his towel, huddled closely with his knees pulled up, sobbing quietly. Oh dear God, what happened to this boy? "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I say, considering whether or not to just rewind all this and forget it ever happened.

"No, no, it's not you," he says through shuddering sobs. "I'm& It's my fault, I'm sorry."

I sit down directly in front of him and stare him in the eyes until he meets my gaze. "No. It's not your fault. I don't know what happened, but it's not your fault." He continues to cry. "Look, I& did..." I say, searching for the words. "When you said earlier that you learned about sperm 'at school,' were you telling the truth?"

He shakes his head and looks down.

"Did someone do something to you?"

No answer, but the scrunched up face of anguish says enough.

"Who molested you? Was it a schoolmate?" Head shake. "Your father?"

"No!" Matty snaps.

"Who?! I'll kill them, I swear to God!"

Matty mumbles something unintelligible. "What? Who?" I ask.

"After a pause, Matty mumbles, "James."

Wait, wasn't that the cousin they were talking about at dinner? I ask as much, and he nods slowly. "I'll kill him. I'll rip his dick off and strangle him with it. I'll& " I stop ranting as I hear Matty's sobs increase. "Matty, I'm sorry, but you know this isn't your fault. If he so much as comes near you again, I swear& "

"Please, stop," Matty says. "Just... don't." Matty sobs a few more times. "I'm sorry. Just... I don't want to talk about it."

It is at that moment I decide to make a rash action. "Hey Matty."

"Yes?"

"Did you know I have superpowers?"

He lifts his head, sobs slightly, and wipes his nose across his arm. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I have literal superpowers."

He turns his head away slightly and squints in a Kodak moment of skepticism. "Like what?"

"Have you ever played a game where you can save it and load it if you mess up?"

He nods slowly, warily.

"I can do that."

He looks at me in patent disbelief. "There's no way."

"Yup. It's how I beat Rod in that fight earlier, and how I knew exactly how to piss him off. Check this out." I go get a pen and a piece of paper from my backpack. "I want you to write a sentence to yourself; something only you would know."

He gets this smile on his face, the "You're kidding me, right? Where's the camera?" sort of smile, and writes down a sentence on the paper.

"You got it?" I ask. "Good. Now, sign it with your middle name, since I don't even know what it is." He does so. "Okay. Now I will read it, go back in time, and tell you what you're going to write."

"This is& you're totally trolling me," he says, laughing uncomfortably.

"No, no, just trust me on this one. May I read it?"

He reluctantly hands the note over. It reads:

I used to play Candyland with my dad before he left. - Kenneth

I immediately rewind to the moment where...

He gets this smile on his face, the "You're kidding me, right? Where's the camera?" sort of smile, and writes down a sentence on the paper.

"You got it?" I ask. "Good. Now, sign it with your middle name, since I don't even know what it is." He does so. "Okay. Now fold it up, crumple it up, whatever, and throw it somewhere. I don't care where."

"Oh, come on, now you're seriously just playing with me& "

"You loved Candy Land, didn't you?"

He stops, frozen. "How& "

"Was it your favorite game to play with your father?"

Matty gets the same look that Rod had, that cornered fear face. He takes a moment to breathe. "Yes. We played it every weekend."

"Have you ever gone by Kenneth? Do you even like it?"

"How are you doing that?!" he practically screams at me. "How?!"

"I told you, I can travel to my own past. Think of it like telling the future, only actually living it and then coming back later."

He searches for some way to prove me wrong, and can't come up with anything. "I still don't believe you."

"No? Try to hit me."

At this, Matty hesitates. "No, I don't& "

"Throw something at me. Just do it." For added effect, I turn around. I hear a sigh, and a PS4 controller nails me in the head. A quick few rewinds later (I kinda suck at catching things, so it takes more tries than I'd like to admit), I reach back and catch it less than an inch from my head.

"THAT IS SO COOL!" Matty shouts. "Oh my God that's cool! How did you & why& "

"I honestly don't know," I reply, turning around. Shrugging, I add, "all I know is I've had it for a long, long time now."

"What do you mean? You're only, what, 12?"

"This time around, sure. If you add it all up though, all the times I've lived... Matty, I've died maybe 7 times already, but every time I do, my world stops at the very last second and I can rewind to any point and try again. I remember being inside my Mom, I've been married to a dozen people. Hell, I've saved lives, ended them, you name it."

Matty stares off, trying to fathom the scope of it all. "Wow."

"Do you know why I told you all about that?"

"No, why?"

I stare into his eyes again. "Because I want you to trust me. You know my biggest secret now. Heck, you already know a few others, too. But mostly, I want you to realize that I could've rewound this all to before I scared you in the shower, but if I did, it'd only be cheating. I made that mistake, and I want to live with it. I don't want to cheat you like that."

He leans in and looks deep into my eyes. He has such beautiful sky-blue eyes; it's not even fair & and then he slaps me. I rewind to catch his hand, pull it to my mouth, and kiss it. He giggles and tries to slap me with the other hand, but I see that one the first time and catch it. Long story short, it ends up in a wrestling match and a tickle war where he probably would have made a huge puddle if he hadn't let it all out on me just a few minutes ago in the shower. Thankfully the towel is still under him so that he essentially dries himself off in the wrestling match. Of course, wrestling makes us both hard again, but we don't act on it.

After we both catch our breath, he asks, "So, like, you're what, a thousand years old, then?"

"Eh, over that, but I lost count," I reply. "But only in my mind, obviously not my body."

"So why do you still seem, I mean, why are you 12?"

"I like being 12."

Matty scoffs. "Being this age SUCKS. Why would you even do it again?"

"I dunno. I mean, I get to hang out with you this way."

"You're weird."

"I know."

Matty tries to respond, but gets caught in a yawn. "Okay, I'm like, super tired. Um, I have blankets over there in the closet, and a pillow up on top. You can make a spot on the floor if you want." With that, he goes out to the living room with the towel draped over his shoulders to turn off the TV. Even though I'm hardcore tempted to cuddle in bed with him, I know that we're not there yet, and I'm a patient boy. Anyway, this whole 'living with my mistakes' thing is kinda refreshing; we'll see how long I can manage. As long as I can find my underwear; now, where did they go?

To be continued...