Adventures of a Little Boy Lover 1

By Elixir Soup

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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My name is Vanessa Bryant. Oh, but please, call me Ness! I’ve always thought Vanessa was a “hot girl name” and sadly I’ve never considered myself all that pretty. Maybe that’s why I don’t really go for boys... I mean, I’m not a lesbian, far from it. I just have a... well, a type. Yeah, let’s call it that.

See, I have a bit of a secret. I like little boys. No, I love little boys. I love everything about them. I love to look at them, talk to them, be with them, touch them, feel them, play with them. Nothing gets me more excited than little boys. That’s why I became a babysitter. With my nerdy looks and good girl attitude it wasn’t hard to get hired by the mothers of the neighborhood as a babysitter for little boys. Over the years, I’ve kind of perfected the art of not only getting them naked and making them stay naked for me, but letting me touch them all I want.

Oh, but I’d never have sex with one. No, no, no. I’m not one of those people. Most I’ll ever go is some cuddling and playing with them until they ejaculate. I admit, I may have performed oral on a few but that’s where I draw the line. I don’t believe in forcing them either. No, more like... coercing them? Persuading them is better. Yes, persuading them. My father spanked me and I never liked it, so the last thing I’d want is to threaten or cause physical violence on such beautiful people like little boys. No, I prefer a... gentle touch with them. A subtle touch, I suppose you could say.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should start from the beginning? It’s kind of a funny story about how I got interested in little boys and how I developed my unusual methods of getting them naked and letting me touch them all I want. In fact, it goes back to my days of kindergarten.

My kindergarten had four classes but only two teachers and shared an elementary school with grades one through five. I was in the afternoon class under Miss Heatherington. To prevent the big kids from messing with the little kids, the kindergarteners had a private bathroom. Usually the teacher or aid had to escort us and help us but on days when everyone was particularly rambunctious we were sometimes allowed to go alone due to being short staffed.

It all started one day when I was playing house with one of the boys in my class, Jin. He was the only boy willing to play house so he often had to take turns playing the daddy to the girls in the class who wanted to be the mommy. It was my turn, but he had to go use the bathroom. The teacher and aid were busy, so he had to go alone.

As I sat waiting for him I started to realize I had to go pee, too. I ran up to Mrs. Heatherington and tugged on her apron.

“Miss, can I go to the potty, please? Can I miss?” I asked her, my hands clutching the skirt of my yellow sun dress in the classic potty dance.

Mrs. Heatherington gave me a nod then returned to reprimanding two boys who got in a fight during a game of search and rescue. I hurried out the door and around the corner to the bathroom.

The curious thing about the kindergarten bathroom was that it was co-ed. The stalls also lacked doors to accommodate the aids and teachers helping any students who needed it. As I walked in, Jin was standing at one of the stalls taking a wee. I walked past him, curious why he wasn’t sitting. I stared so intently that my glasses slid down my nose. After I went myself, I walked out patting down my dress to see Jin leaving his stall with a rather strange appendage sticking out of his pants.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the odd thing between his legs that I didn’t have.

“Huh?” He looked up as if just noticing I was there. “It’s a weenie,” he told me. “Girls don’t have them. Only boys.”

How very bizarre! As a very curious child, I was enthralled at the idea of something girls didn’t have. “What does it do?”

“Boys pee out of them,” Jin explained.

“Wow. Um... can I touch it?” I asked, fascinated.

“Huh? Why?” Jin asked. He still hadn’t put it away. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“Well, I don’t have one... I just wanna see what it feels like. Please?” I asked. I managed to pry my eyes off it and stare into his own brown orbs pleadingly. Jin was actually cute, in retrospect. Asian, I think he was of some Korean descent, though he was likely half-Korean. I gave him my best puppy dog eyes and to my delight he sighed.

“Go ahead. Just don’t pull on it.” He removed his hand and dropped his pants to give me better access. The dear even lifted his shirt up.

With a contradictory mixture of eagerness and trepidation, I approached the little appendage before me. My hands reached out to grasp it as gently as I could manage. I remember that his little half-Korean weenie looked oddly pale compared to my dark chocolate hands. There weren’t many black people in that Florida neighborhood, so I’m kind of used to that contrast by now.

I remember how Jin’s penis felt in my hands like it was only yesterday. Soft, but with something harder in the center. He was uncircumcised and it was delightful playing with his soft, flexible hood. His mushroom-shaped head was velvety smooth and a wonder to have my fingers glide across. It was smooth yet slightly wrinkly at parts. The testicles... How beautiful. A wrinkly little pouch with two round balls floating inside it. It was too flexible and soft to get a good grip on. My tiny fingers sunk into it. Looking back, I think Jin was bigger than the average 5 year old, especially for a half-Korean boy. But maybe I’m just remembering it wrong. Everything seems bigger to a 5 year old girl, after all.

As I played with it, I heard Jin grunt and worried I might be hurting him. I was always an oddly empathetic girl. Seeing others in pain made me feel their pain. “A-Am I hurting you?”

“Nah,” Jin dismissed. “Just... kinda tickles.”

Whether due to the chilled air of the bathroom or my own ministrations, his sack got tighter and his phallus began to get thick. I felt the transformation in my hand, mesmerized. My glasses slid down my nose at the sight and feel of it. It got hard and long. I felt the previously soft rod take on a much stiffer form. It felt absolutely wondrous.

“What just happened?” I asked Jin’s penis.

“That happens sometimes. I’m not sure why,” he explained. He sounded a little strained.

Acting on instinct, I leaned forward, eager to give it a little kiss. A pale hand stopped me.

“Nessa, what are you doing?” He asked, displeased.

I frowned, worried I might lose my toy. “I was... just going to kiss it.”

“Gross. I said you could touch it, not kiss it,” he said.

I frowned. What I was about to offer would largely color my future strategies for getting little boys naked. “Um... Wh-What if I show you mine, too?”

This got his attention. Nay, his interest. “You’ll show me yours?” I nodded. “Well... Okay, fine. I guess that’s okay. Fair is fair.”

With nervous trepidation, I reached under my sun dress and lowed my little cartoon panties. Not wanting to trip on them, I also removed my sandals and kicked my panties aside. With a deep breath and a blush, I lifted my skirt, showing Jin my prepubescent, hairless girl parts.

To my further embarrassment, Jin leaned down to get a very close up look. “Wow, it’s true. Girls really don’t have one.”

I felt my head swimming. “Um... C-Can I kiss it now?”

Jin stood up, seeming to contemplate things. I was worried that, after the humiliation I just suffered, he might back out of our deal.

“We had a deal, I guess. Go ahead. Just... don’t make it gross, okay?” He said.

I nearly jumped for joy. With more excitement than necessary, I stumbled to the floor. All thoughts of putting my panties or sandals back on left my mind. I was only focused on my new toy.

Settling into a kneel and steadying the turgid member in my tiny hands, I leaned forward. I puckered my dark lips, my breath coming out in puffs. With a tiny smacking sound I planted a little kiss on the head of the appendage. It was no longer, wetter, or more intimate than a girl might give a boy a peck on the cheek. I heard Jin grunt but realized it was likely because he liked it.

I nearly recoiled at the feel of it. The engorged phallus was hot. I thought I felt it pulsate like a heartbeat against my lips but I may just be remembering it wrong. What I do remember correctly was that it felt really good. Hot, hard yet warm, beating at a relaxing rhythm. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. The feel of that little penis on my lips was better than any lollipop or candy bar. I think I remember sighing contentedly, my eyes closed and a dreamy expression on my face after I got my first kiss from a five year old half-Asian boy’s weenie.

A slamming door snapped us both out of our reverie. Knowing the aid was coming to get us, Jin hastily pulled his pants back up. I slipped my sandals on and we both washed our hands just as the aid was coming in to check on us.

The aid escorted us back to the classroom for nap time and I remember realizing too late that in my haste I’d forgotten my panties in the bathroom. As I settled into my sleeping bag for a nap I wasn’t thinking about Jin like some little girl with a crush. I wasn’t even thinking about Jin’s penis. At least, sort of. I was thinking about penises in general and boys not wearing pants. As I dozed off, I think I dreamed about playing with the weenies of the other boys in class.

Surprisingly, this was not the birth of a nymphomaniac. You would think that as I grew older so would my taste in boys. Oddly enough, while I certainly grew up the boys I fancied stayed roughly the same age. I suppose while this incident was my awakening, it was an incident a few years later that cemented my love of little boys only.

I have standards, though. No younger than 7, no older than 12. That’s my rule. 6 and under and they’re just too young to have fun with. I feel bad for corrupting such innocence. 13 and over and they’re not innocent enough!

It would only be ten years later when I was 15 that I would start my babysitting gig purely so that I could get little boys naked and feel their skin against mine. That first incident and the second one 5 years later when I was 10 would not only cement my fixation but coin the methods I used to acquire it.

In all my adventures as a little boy lover, I never once laid a violent hand on any little boy. I preferred a gentle touch. After all, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Looking back on my origins I don’t regret what I am or how I became it. I’m happy and I make many little boys happy. Isn’t that what really matters?

(End of File)