Chapter 3 - Dylan

One day I woke up to find a strange boy standing in my room. A boy who was a stranger to me, I should say, because I didn’t think he looked strange at all. Just ... unexpected.

“Who are you?” I asked, sitting up in my bed and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Dylan,” the black boy replied.

My room wasn’t overly large and he stood near the bed opposite mine, empty but for some folded linen and his blue backpack. Everyone at St. Luke’s had to share and my old roommate had left a couple weeks before to live with some relatives in Canada or someplace. I’d gotten sort of used to being alone and that’s why I called it my room, but it was really our room now.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I gotta get up anyway. How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he answered, tilting his head with a smile. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged self-consciously as I’d woken up with a morning erection and I wasn’t wearing anything under the bed sheets. “You look kind of old to be here.”

“They kicked me out of foster,” Dylan shrugged. “Harringtons? You know them?”

“No,” I shook my head and watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head to reveal a smooth, well-toned chest. I swallowed hard as I remembered Ron and his huge dick.

“They’re okay, but there’s way too many rules, you know?” He shrugged and tossed his t-shirt on the bed. “I like to do my own thing sometimes.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling my face warming beneath his bright smile and chocolate eyes.

Dylan had skin almost as black as Ron’s had been. Africa black, with short kinky hair and broad shoulders. Muscular shoulders. He wasn’t a body builder or anything, not like that, but definitely blessed with good genes, I thought. I stared at his small black nipples and flat stomach. He had a thin trail of dark hair leading from his belly button downward to disappear beneath the waistband of his faded jeans. I thought he looked amazingly sexy just standing there.

“Anyway, they were gonna send me back to Mercy,” Dylan explained as he unsnapped his pants and unzipped them slowly. “But then Father John found out and said I could stay here, so that’s cool.”

“What’s Mercy?” I asked, trying not to look too interested as he pushed his jeans down his strong, black thighs and high-stepped out of them.

He wore a pair of black briefs, small and thin like Speedos or something, and I could see the shape of his cock and balls as they stretched the nylon. Dylan must have had a serious dick too, judging from the size of his bulge and when he turned and gave me his ass, bending over to pick up his jeans, I held my breath. The boy’s underwear didn’t hide anything back there and Dylan’s butt looked rock hard, as if chiseled out of stone, and I’d always been attracted to guys like that.

“Mercy?” he shrugged, facing me again and playing his thumb along the waistband of his briefs. “You never got in trouble, huh? It’s where they send the bad boys.”

“Oh.” I blinked as he pulled the waistband out and let it snap against his hip. “What did you do?”

“You sure you wanna know?” he teased me with a grin and I blushed even more.

There was a tension between us, like the air was charged with electricity and it gave me goosebumps as we looked at each other. My cock throbbed and my tummy tingled the way it hadn’t since I’d first met Gary. This wasn’t like being with Father John, not at all, because I wasn’t attracted to the older man emotionally. I understood that difference instinctively, and Dylan’s smile and his eyes and his body, every part of the boy made me want him. I couldn’t help it and I felt pretty helpless as I sat there on my bed, hiding my arousal and wishing I knew what to do about it.

“I don’t know,” I giggled nervously. “Why? Is it bad?”

“Some people think so,” Dylan said with a lick of his full brown lips. “I was out by the airport, hanging out at the arcades. You ever been there?”

“No,” I answered, sucking my lips as he just stood there, scratching the pubic hair that curled above his briefs in the front. “You got in trouble for playing video games?”

“Video games?” He laughed and I frowned. “The porn places, you know? The video arcade where they show movies?”

“Ummm...” I blinked at him, feeling kind of dumb because I honestly didn’t know anything about that stuff.

“I’ve made like two, three hundred bucks in one night out there before,” he boasted proudly.

“Really? Doing what?”

“Doing whatever,” Dylan shrugged. “Mostly just letting white guys suck my dick.”

“W-What?” I forgot to breathe and my heart stammered as I tried to understand what he was telling me.

“Twenty bucks just to suck it for it a while,” he nodded. “If they want me to cum it’s fifty, you know, since I only got so much juice in my balls.”

“You’re, um ... gay?” I asked slowly as he slid his hand down to his trapped cock and balls, rubbing himself through his underwear.

“Father John told me about you,” Dylan said with a smile, ignoring my question. “Your name’s Cockboy, right?”

“He told you?” I shivered with a rush of adrenaline, feeling that fight or flight thing, except I wasn’t going to do either of those.

“Why do you think I’m standing here?” he asked with another soft laugh. “If I’m a good boy and behave myself, we get to be friends.”

“I don’t, um ... What’s that mean?” I whispered.

“I like pretty white boys,” Dylan told me, looking me up and down with a smile, “and you’re fine as hell, he wasn’t lying about that.”

“Ummm...” I swallowed hard and wondered if I was dreaming.

“Have you ever been with a black guy?”

“Yeah,” I breathed and Dylan looked surprised at that.

“Cool,” he nodded. “Then it’s up to you.”

“Me? What’s up to me?”

“I’m just standing here,” he said lightly, almost innocently the way he smiled at me. “You wanna be friends or what?”

“You mean like boyfriends?” I asked softly, hardly believing this could be happening. It felt like all my prayers were being answered at once.

“You want a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” I nodded and I still had a lot of questions, but I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever. I didn’t want to say something to make Dylan change his mind and get mad at me, you know?

“Me too,” he said. “It sucks being alone all the time.”

“I know,” I agreed as he unzipped a large pocket on his backpack, the only luggage Dylan had.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” he told me, pulling out some shampoo and a toothbrush, stuff like that. “Are you coming?”

“Um, yeah ... I just...” I looked down and I knew my face had to be seriously red.

“What’s the matter?” Dylan laughed. “You got a boner or something?”

“Sorta,” I admitted sheepishly, giggling and dipping my head.

“You laugh like a girl,” he teased me. “Where do they keep the towels around here?”

“In the closet, um, by the bathroom.” I sort of pointed towards the closed door. “You’re gonna walk around like that?”

“I told you,” he said with a smile, “I like to do my own thing.”

He left our room just wearing his underwear and it wasn’t that big of a deal, I guess. All the kids at St. Luke’s were boys anyway, but still ... Probably it was just that I thought Dylan looked completely hot. I imagined anyone who saw him mostly naked like that would get turned on or whatever, even though most of the other boys were a lot younger than him and not queer at all. Except I hadn’t figured out how to tell if someone was a fag or not, which was one of my biggest problems.

It sucked being fourteen and gay and totally alone. Father John didn’t count because all he wanted to do was have sex, him and Sister Judith both, and if I was there it was only to amuse them, like some sort of sex pet. The priest wasn’t gay anymore than he was straight, he was just an old pervert and I’d been kind of disappointed to figure that out. But I wasn’t alone anymore and I didn’t exactly understand how or why I’d gotten lucky enough to get Dylan and I didn’t really care. I had a boyfriend again!

The bathroom wasn’t real big. It had a couple toilet stalls, a couple sinks, and three showers separated by tiled walls and flowery shower curtains that Sister Francine had bought. Dylan was the only one in there, all the other kids being downstairs eating breakfast or watching cartoons since it was Saturday. Most of the boys were between eight and twelve years old, a couple kids were thirteen and there was me at fourteen. A guy named Zack was fifteen and at sixteen, Dylan was now the oldest boy at St. Luke’s.

Anyway, I used the toilet real quick because I had to pee badly and that was a relief, but then I wasn’t sure what I should do. I mean, Dylan was in one of the showers and I could see him like a shadow through the shower curtain as he washed his black body. Should I get in the shower with him, which was what I really wanted to do, or use one of the other showers? What if he laughed at me? Or what if he got mad or something? I hated wanting something and being too afraid to try and get it.

“Hey, um...” I said, softly. “Do you want me to, uh ... wash your back?”

What a total idiot! I felt amazingly stupid as soon as I asked him that, but that’s what being a kid is like sometimes. All I knew were worn-out lines from bad movies and dumb jokes. Anyway, Dylan didn’t seem to care, he just opened the shower curtain and smiled at me.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get in.”

The shower wasn’t made for more than one person, but I wasn’t very big anyway. I wasn’t even five and half feet tall yet and the last time I’d weighed myself at school, the scale had said 102 pounds, so I was pretty skinny. Dylan stood four or five inches taller than me and he had a real body, strong with muscles and glistening wet under the shower. He made me feel even smaller than I was as I looked up at him, and the boy didn’t wait.

He hugged me, pulling my flat, pale tits against his ebony body. Dylan’s cock, not yet fully erect, pressed against my tummy. His hands found my round butt and my arms went around his neck as we kissed. His tongue licked between my lips and I opened with a happy gasp, letting the older boy explore my mouth with a nice, lazy French kiss that made me want to melt. I felt his leg between mine, rising until I felt the pressure of his dark thigh against my hairless balls and aching penis. I rocked my hips and hunched myself against him, sucking Dylan’s tongue and tickling it with my own.

I hadn’t been kissed like that since the night I’d said goodbye to Gary and I burned for it inside. My heart thumped wildly as I clung to Dylan like a little boy. I could feel his cock growing longer and thicker against my soft skin and the water poured over us like hot rain. His fingers moved between my butt cheeks and we moved just enough to let the tip of Dylan’s middle finger find my tight sphincter and play with it. The water gave him all the lubrication he needed to push the tip inside me. I shivered and rocked myself against the sensation, inviting the boy to finger me deeper while we made out.

Of course, we couldn’t risk spending too much time in there; anyone could walk in anytime. So after not nearly enough kissing, Dylan urged me to turn around and face the wall. I bent over for him, smiling nervously over my left shoulder as I spread my legs and felt the cool tiles under my palms. Dylan’s black cock was larger than mine, but not so big as Ron’s had been, and circumcised too. I guess it was like seven inches long maybe? I’m not sure, but pretty thick and maybe all black guys have really fat cocks or something.

“You’ve got a sweet ass,” he whispered, rubbing his cockhead across my boy pussy and teasing both of us with it.

“Be careful, okay?” I said, doing my best to relax against the wave of excitement that seemed to be swallowing me whole.

“Have you been fucked before?” Dylan wondered, freezing for a second and narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But not for a long time. Just go kinda slow.”

“I will,” he promised, smiling again as he lined up his cock and started pushing.

It hurt a little, even with the shower spraying hot water on the small of my back and spilling between my cheeks to keep his cock nice and wet. I had to remember not to hold my breath and just relax my gut and let him inside. My butt resisted, protesting as Dylan’s cock forced its way into my tight rectum, and that strange ache wasn’t unwelcome. I kind of liked the dull throbbing in my butt as he stuffed me full of cock. The burning gave way to a sharp cramp and then just a vague point of pressure moving deeper as Dylan refused to ease up on me.

He held my hips tightly, digging his black fingers into my white skin, and didn’t stop pushing until his cock was firmly planted to the root inside my ass cunt. We both took deep breaths and I kept my head down, staring at the water swirling around the drain. Dylan rubbed my back and shoulders, caressing me while we both got used to having his big dick stretching my small butt. After a half minute or so, he began fucking me slowly, taking long strokes, and that’s when it really started feeling good.

“Hmmm ... Ummm...” I moaned deep in my throat, feeling my knees all rubbery as I pushed myself backwards to meet him.

He pumped my hole for five minutes maybe, slapping my ass with his hips and reaching for my straining cock while I rode his. Dylan jerked me off in time with his thrusts, bringing me quickly to spasm and spray my cum between his fingers and onto the floor beneath us. A few moments later he groaned loudly and I felt his hot semen flooding my ass with a delicious warmth.

When he reached for my tits, pulling my back to his chest with his cock still jerking inside me, I turned my head to find his mouth. I nursed on his pink tongue and nibbled his brown lips. I reached for his hips and ran my hands over as much of his black skin as I could find. We were truly lovers then, I felt it in my heart, and that was a pleasure beyond anything else I might have imagined possible.

“He wants to meet me?” I blinked at Father John as we walked outside, through the gardens between the orphanage where I lived and the big house where he lived.

“He asked for you by name, Cockboy,” the priest replied with a deep throated chuckle and I’d gotten used to his warped sense of humor.

Some people think 14-year-old boys don’t know much about what’s going on around them, but we do. I’d never been much of a show-off or anything like that. I liked to keep my mouth shut and listen, which made a lot of people wonder if there was something wrong with me for some reason. I just didn’t have a whole lot to say, you know? But I wasn’t dumb and if I was innocent, that wasn’t my fault.

“Maybe I should have dressed better,” I thought out loud, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the clothes Father John had picked out.

Actually, he’d been the one to buy them for me too. I didn’t get to do a whole lot of shopping since I didn’t really have any money, and if I did, I wouldn’t have spent it on clothes. I wore a half-T, a lavender one that had a really big neck so it always fell down one shoulder or the other. It barely covered my boy tits and I had some seriously puffy nipples after Father John had put clothespins on them the night before. He liked that sort of stuff and I didn’t mind. I sorta liked it when my tits hurt a little because it sorta felt pretty good. Don’t ask me why.

Anyway, that t-shirt totally showed off my soft tummy and slim waist, my narrow hips and one or the other of my slender shoulders, sometimes both of them at the same time. Father John told me I looked sexy like that and he would know. I wore a matching pair of shorts, lavender short-shorts that hugged my butt and without any underwear on, totally showed off my dick and balls. Not that I had a big cock or anything, I didn’t, but those shorts didn’t hide my junk at all.