This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Life on the Farm

by Joe Writer Man

Chapter 3

The man, well dressed in a dark blue pen-striped suit, fashionable pink shirt, a white and burgundy tie, and... geezus - fuckin alligator shoes. Holy shit this guy was money walking around. My mind immediately went into overdrive... could I get a job?

I definitely paled in comparison. Nobody would hire a kid wearing a green and white wide striped pull over shirt, dark green Khaki shorts, white ankle socks and tennis shoes... but ya never know until ya check it out.

His eyes, narrow and greenish-brown, were captivating yet there was something about him I couldn't put my finger on because I'd not yet met a person who'd given me "that" undefinable 'feeling'. But... nothing about him seemed malevolent or frightening, instead he appeared open and inviting.

The man walked to me. He said, "That teller is a case. I've had trouble in the past with her myself. So, you're looking for a bicycle... maybe I can help? My name's Adam, Adam Wright. I own Wright Photography Studios located near the big church on east 54."

"I've seen your advertisements on TV. It's cool. Uhm, maybe I could get a job there. You know, maybe I could empty the trash and clean your offices .. I work hard and I'm dependable. Oh yeah, my name is <thinking back to what Mac had told me about honesty> James." I replied.

Adam's eyes slightly shifted. He sized me up from the top of my head to my feet ... although he did not avert his eyes I knew his field of vision was checking me out. No problem, I'd checked him out too.

Deep in thought he replied, "As a matter of fact. The cleaning company just quit their contract two weeks ago last Friday. The new contractor isn't doing a very good job... how old are you, James?"

Here it comes... he won't hire an 11 year old – not now, not ever. I've heard it time and time again. I replied, "Uhm, I'm 11 going on 12 in a few months. Thanks anyway." I turned to leave.

"James, I can't put you on the payroll because of government stuff and liability... I may have something you could do though, if you'd be interested that is. But, I noticed that you're walking with a limp. May I ask what happened to you... I'm trying to not be nosy but I need to know if you're able to actually work. At the same time I've got to watch out for people who have disabilities... the government is all over that too. Have you ever thought of modeling? You're very photogenic."

"Uhm, no sir. I've not thought about that." I said. Then my mind went whirling in all different directions. First, I'm not good looking 'enough'. I'm a dumb ass, a worthless fuck who'll never amount to anything, and I'm more or less homeless. Second, my body isn't all that bad in that everything seems to be in the right place, I'm not all fat and stuff, and I really like my cut cock and it damn sure feels good under the right circumstances. I kind of like my golden blond hair, and my eyes are okay. I looked down to my arms and found that my forearms had definition and there was even quite a bit of downy soft white hair sprouting.

"Photogenic, what's that?" I inquired, truly not knowing what the word meant. I mean I'd had my picture taken for school and stuff.

"Photogenic. That means that someone or some object is found to be appealing. You've seen pictures of vases, places, post cards, some birthday and anniversary cards, for instance. Some people take better pictures over other people. You know, they have an appeal to the eye, or not. Basically that's was photogenic means."

"You mean I'm appealing... I mean.. I would be a good picture, really?"

"Absolutely, for a young person, your personality shows throughout your person, if that makes any sense. You're confident. I suspect you've had issues in your life which have made you a stronger person." I shrugged my shoulders then found a pebble on the ground to focus on. Adam continued, "James, you're deep in thought. I didn't mean to trouble you. Maybe I should just go on my way. I'll give you my business card. Think about it. Talk to your parents if you choose to."

With that Adam turned to walk away but stopped when I said, "What do I have to do? Sit in front of a camera, smile a dumb ass kid smile and then walk away, not waiting for one more second before ripping that fucking tie off?"

Adam snickered, then turning serious, said, "Although I do have two long-term contracts for school pictures, my main work is private contracts for natural work like in parks, swimming pools, everyday life, basically. I think you'd be a natural. Think about it. I need to go. Here's my phone number. Call me, or have your parents call me sometime but only if you're interested."

I contemplated Adam's proposal. I knew the 'rents would never ever approve, instead they emphasized boring shit such as education and fucking being their fucking gopher and otherwise stay away and out of their hair. I decided to get more information. "Uhm, if I could do something like that, how much does it pay?"

Just then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a bicyclist pop into view. The rider was aiming right toward Adam. Adam wasn't in any way aware of the cyclist On the short side of a split nanosecond I screamed, "Watch out! Behind you!!!!"

Adam sidestepped away, thankfully. He would have been creamed. As it were, the rider grazed my left elbow but it was just a glancing blow with his forearm. The motherfucker was actually text messaging. That was a new one, I'd never seen someone texting and bicycling!

When the rider and I made eye contact he dropped the cell phone to the pavement. Without a second thought, I quickly stepped over to pick it up but instead stomped the hell out of it with my foot shattering the glass and breaking off the top part of the flip phone. The bicyclist also went to the ground screaming and cussing and raising hell. Quickly he got up, began walking toward me with rage billowing from his eyes.

Adam quickly positioned himself between us, told the son of a bitch to pick up his shit and get gone before he called the cops to have him arrested for riding a bicycle on a sidewalk (I snickered on the inside and smiled on the outside), and for assault with a deadly weapon... I couldn't stop it from happening: I snickered outwardly. Nevertheless the man picked up the remnants of the phone, got his wits about him, and then quickly rode off. He stuck his arm up in the air and flipped us off. Of course I returned the endeared gesture, without a second thought.

Adam turned to me, took hold of my arm and inspected it for damage. Satisfied there was no damage, he asked, "Are you okay? That was a close one. Thanks. How about we step to next to the building. I imagine we were just as much at fault as he was since we're right in the middle of the sidewalk."

Adam adjusted the sleeves on the way-too-expensive suit jacket and said, "On the average, a portfolio nets the subject right around $500.00 per shoot, give or take, depending on how cooperative the subject is. Certain situations and circumstances pay more, or less. It all depends, really."

My mind went to spinning. $500.00 for a photo shoot. Easy money? No physical labor? Fuck yeah!!

"So what do I have to do?" I asked.

Adam went on to say that parental permission is required in the case of underage children, and that parents have the final say so about what is acceptable and what is not acceptable for their children. Made sense. That knocked me out. The egg donor would never give permission, or if she did then I wouldn't see a fucking dime.

I thought up a real good lie, about getting her a charm bracelet or a necklace or some such stupid shit. (Damn it Mac.) Instead I said, "Uhm, okay, well I'd better go now. But thanks anyway mister."

"Is there a problem? You live at home, right?" Adam said after putting his hand on my shoulder. He didn't squeeze or anything. It was the first time, in a very long time that a person had put their hand on me in a way that did not require me to defend myself, or to get away from.

I looked down, found a spot on my tennis shoe, reached down to wipe it away and found it was a droplet of tar. Not only did I smear the spot but I also got the gooey shit on my finger. I wiped my finger on the pavement and got the main part of it off but experienced a spasm in my hip which nearly took me to the ground. Adam sensed my difficulty, wrapped his arm around my chest, and held me until the spasm passed.

Adam said concernedly, "Are you okay? Do I need to call for an ambulance?"

"NO. No ambulances. I'm fine. That would just piss... uhm, I mean it would worry the 'ents, they'd have to take off work, and shit." I replied quickly.

Adam regarded me carefully. I knew I'd fucked up. I turned to leave, took one step in the opposite direction, toward where we'd come from but he stopped me by saying, "James, I'm not talking photography now." I looked into his eyes. He appeared genuine. I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at that damn tar stain on my shoe. He continued, "Is there a problem at home?"

"Not exactly. Uhm, I'd better go." I said then turned and started walking away. I turned around hoping to see that Adam had gone his own way. He hadn't moved from the spot from where we'd parted. The look on his face was inquisitive.

He walked over and stood in front of me, "James, I have to ask, are you being physically abused? I saw you limp, and just now you nearly fell to the pavement because you were in pain."

Once again, I lowered my head to my chest, bu then looked up to see only concern, "No, not really. I mean they aren't beating me up... I guess I could just say that they don't like me. So I'm out looking for a job..."

"So you can run away?" Adam asked gently.

"Yeah, something like that. Look, I don't take charity or handouts. Don't feel sorry for me... that's the last thing..."

"Oh no, I don't feel sorry for you, James. We each have our own situations and circumstances that cause us trouble every now and again. I left home when I was 14. I've not been back there though I keep in contact with a brother and a sister. Even those contacts are somewhat strained."

"So how did you get away... you had to get a job first, right?" I asked seriously.

"I got a job shoveling horseshit, I mean poop, sorry. That lasted a year or so then I got hooked into photography... and well here I am about 15 years later. I'm still doing it. Just so you know, James, I didn't take handouts or charity either... I wanted to earn my way."

I looked into his eyes. I saw truth in them. I nodded.

"James, are you in danger?"

"No, not really. I just avoid them, her mainly."

"Is that why you're skipping school today?"

"What are you, a fuckin truancy officer?" I spat then turned around and started walking away again. I didn't want to get into it. If he was a truancy officer then I didn't want anything to do with him but I was at a disadvantage – I couldn't run.

After quickly looking both ways, I crossed the street, crossed it again to turn right then headed away from town but into the heart of the ghetto.

(Adam was getting too close to some things that I didn't want to talk about, and besides that I wasn't used to people getting into my space. I was confused. I knew how to run but I didn't know how to 'stay'. And that made me nervous).

I kept to the main streets.. The hair on the back of my neck was sticking out, I felt cold even though it was already right around 80 degrees and the sun was hot. I was just about at the end though in that my hip was killing me. I would shuffle along. And then some boys, some tough looking boys suddenly appeared from the porch of a house They saw me and were appraising me as though I were a chunk of meat ready to be eaten and spat out. At the same time, a car honked. I looked at the boys then looked behind me and saw Adam. He'd been following me. Without a second thought, without even looking to see if any cars were present or near I left the sidewalk, crossed the street and walked to the passenger side. He had the door open. Before I even closed the door, he put the hammer down, squealing tires, leaving smoke (from the tires) behind us.

Immediately, from the emblems and the dashboard style I noticed that his car was a Porsche Boxter S. I settled back in the seat (I really had no choice due to massive acceleration g-forces). An alarm from the dashboard began loudly buzzing. Adam said, "Put your seat belt on. It won't quit until you do."

I complied just before he rounded a turn. The vehicle behaved like a precision machine, which it was, and he drove like a race car driver, in and out of traffic, taking main roads, taking back roads... he squealed into the park I was familiar with, pulled to the curb, slammed the gearshift into park, turned the engine off and turned in his seat to face me. He was angry, "What the hell did you do that for? Those guys weren't after your lunch money, James. They were after your young ass, dude. That was really, really close!"

"Uhm, yeah, well, thanks. I just didn't care. I thought you were some fucking truancy officer. They're pretty smooth; I've been busted more than once."

Whatever the fuck, he didn't yell or scream; he didn't even look disappointed or pissed. Instead, did I sense fear in his eyes? Did he REALLY care?

He gave me no indication of what was playing in my mind.

I looked around, searching for anybody in the park... my eyes found, they focused on the ole busybody bitch of the neighborhood Mrs. Donaldson. She was looking away. I said to Adam, "Can we get out of here? That lady, I don't want her to see me." That lady, she knew more about what was happening better than the actual people she was spying on.

Without a word, Adam fired up the powerful engine and then gently took us from the park. He drove back through town and out onto the 54.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To my place. We need to talk. I might be able to help you... but you'll have to work. No freebies." Adam said, grinning. I grinned and settled back while he drove at a normal pace until he turned off onto a blacktop road when he tore out with the engines screaming their readiness. The sheer strengthpushed me deep into the seat. Within a matter of only a few short minutes the car barely slid into a huge estate like place, spun gravel in all directions then came to a skidding stop no more than eight inches from the garage door. I about pissed my pants; probably would have had the excitement of that ride not seriously boned me up. He reached for the clicker, smiling like a Cheshire cat, clicked it which opened the garage door. He then spun out, entered the garage and stopped within an inch of hitting the wall. I did, in fact, feel my penis ooze a drop or two into my underwear!

He clicked open the door locks. He looked at me, and said confidently, "We'll figure something out. When will your parents be home?"

When I hesitated, he put his hand on my shoulder just like he did in town by the bank. I looked into his eyes, I replied softly, "In about 10 days."

Incredulously he asked, "Where are they?"

"They went to fucking Alaska. Dad fucking promised he'd take me there before I grew up." I hissed, and at the same time stole an ounce of reserve to keep from losing control of my emotions.

Adam, seeing that I was upset, gave me the space I needed. He said, "I'm going into the house. You need some quiet time alone. Whenever you're ready, come on in. Meanwhile, I'm going to make some phone calls … don't worry, the're business calls. Do you want me to call the police?"

"NO!! NO COPS!. NO SOCIAL SERVICES!" I exclaimed loudly, too loud, but his words scared the fuck out of me! Adam, seeing my fright, knowing that I needed to get the fuck out of there because I was scared out of my skin, opened the garage door, got out of the car, walked around, opened my door and then went into the house but left the door open for me to do as I pleased.

I sat there for probably an hour, maybe longer; I wasn't paying attention to time. At one point he brought me a Coke. I politely said, "Thanks. Adam, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, James. I know what I did but don't know if it will work for you. I just kept going, similar to what you're doing. Like I said earlier, you've got a strong spirit about you... that's on your side."

I shrugged my shoulders. He'd gotten my attention by touching my shoulder. Hen. Nothing more was said for a few minutes. He had a pensive look on his face. He looked into my my eyes and quietly but confidently said, "It's up to you right now. Here's the deal: Normally, there's a $350.00 signing cash bonus up front. As I told you, I pay in the vicinity of $500.00 per portfolio that we keep. To keep my subjects at ease and natural we do no more than one shoot a week. I have an opening. Normally, subjects are paid by check to keep things legitimate, however, if you're interested and I like your product then I can and will pay you cash. Since your parents aren't in the picture, at this point in time, I'll leave what pictures we keep and what we discard to you, it will be solely at your discretion, although I will provide suggestions along the way."

"So, if I work two shoots and add the bonus that'll be one thousand three hundred and fifty bucks... I can do that. When do we start?"

Adam nodded, "I have a stipulation, James. James is your real name, right?" Adam asked seriously. I almost thought he was going to bore holes through my soul with the intensity of his voice and serious expression on his face.

"James Talley. I'm 11 and a half. Honest. Uhm, what's a stipulation?"

"A stipulation is a condition." he explained.

I nodded. "Okay, what's the condition?"

"Until your hip gets checked out and fixed if it needs to be fixed, and I have some people that I know who will help you out, we will only do limited poses, sitting, lounging, maybe some standing ones but only if you're feeling up to it. But you have to tell me if you're not. I don't want to be the one who hurts you."

"No, no hospitals. I tried to see my pediatrician... I found out that I'm on Medicaid, and that I'm still in the system as a runaway so anyway they required authorization or some fucking bullshit... so I got the fuck out of Dodge, and have made do. That's the truth, honest. No doctors. No hospitals." I said, suddenly afraid that I'd be taken to the ER, who in turn would put me back into foster homes.

"Okay, here's the deal. I have a chiropractor friend. He has x-ray equipment in his office. He's one of the good guys. So long as there isn't anything seriously wrong with you, you know where you would need surgery or medicine that he cannot prescribe then, well, he owes me some favors so we'll keep it quiet. If there is something seriously wrong with you..."

"Then I go to the hospital or something. I understand, but please... I don't want to go back into the system."

"That's understood. I understand... been there, done that." Adam said knowingly.


"Come on in the house. I'll call Dr. Williams so you can relax and take it easy, okay?"

I nodded, tossed my legs out of the car which was the wrong thing to do. Quickly, they buckled. Adam caught me before I hit the garage floor. With his assistance we slowly made it into the house. Adam reached just outside the kitchen door and clicked the garage door to close. He then pushed some buttons on a security display panel. He said coyly, "A person can't be too safe, right? Welcome to my crib." I giggled at hearing his choice of words. I relaxed.

We entered the kitchen. I swear I'd never ever before seen a kitchen that huge. The appliances were all black, the sinks were white-yellow marble as was the floor; the cabinets – all of them were a dark mahogany; the ceiling textured and painted white; the curtains a bright yellow with white trim. An island sat in the center. It, alone, was larger than all the counter space in the house I'd lived in since birth. The lights, while bright, were soft. Their sources were inset into the ceiling, kind of like track lighting but not really.

Adam said, "So you like my place?"

"Oh hell yeah! It's kewl!"

"Well, maybe we can work something out... if things go totally to hell at home. We'd have to do it in such a way that I'm not kidnapping you. But let's wait until or if that time comes, okay?"

"You'd really do that for me? No shit? I'd pay rent."

Adam giggled, "Damn straight! No handouts; no charity... don't forget."

I laughed; maybe things were looking up.

I stood but my legs were like quivering bowls of jello. Seeing my situation, Adam picked me up... though at first I was startled but then he held me into his chest. I felt safe and secure. His shoulders were broad, his chest strong, his arms muscular, his breath light and sweet smelling.

He grinned, "This costs you five dollars. Remember, no handouts, no charity."

I giggled, "Deal."

The house, except for the restrooms and bedrooms was entirely open. The place was huge. The walls were all painted an off white; the carpet deep dark burgundy; pictures, well placed, were hung on the walls - mostly pastels of flowers, wide open spaces, and several were of places clearly not in the US, like Japan or China or somewhere. As I was looking here, there and everywhere he carried me into the great room and laid me on a huge overstuffed sofa, making sure my head was well supported. He put pillows under my knees which relieved a lot of pressure from my back. He then put a pillow between my legs and inadvertently brushed my ball sac. Realizing what he'd just done, he quickly retreated, all the while looking for indication of alarm. It was no big deal. It was an accident. I gave it not a second thought though I realized I needed to take a hella piss.

Any pressure whatsoever would have surely caused me to pee my pants... my belt was lightly touching the front of my belly thus accentuating those feelings. I said, "Thanks Adam, I need to use the restroom, please, sorry."

"That's no problem. Which one?"

I laughed which put pressure on my bladder. I felt a dribble exit from the end of my fully extended male member. I said, "What do you mean 'which one?"

"I've got six of them."

"Oh... how about the closet one!"

"That's going to cost you a $5.00 carrying charge, and $10.00 for water and sewer usage." Adam said seriously.

I smiled at seeing the gleam in his eye.

"Gotcha." He chuckled.

With that he picked me up and headed toward the back of the house. The bathroom was absolutely fucking humongous. The floor, the vanity - they were all white-yellow marble with shiny white gold faucet apparatuses. The bathtub, a huge oval affair, sat in the center of the room. When he carried me past it I saw that it was actually a Jacuzzi like thing. It had inset jets, was deep, long and wide.

He stood me up in front of the toilet, released his hold and said, "You take it from here, I'll step outside to give you your privacy."

"I think I'll sit down. Thanks. I'll call you when I'm done. The call is on me." I giggled.

Adam replied, "Very funny, wiseacre."

Adam left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. With some difficulty, I lowered my jeans and shorts, sat down and took care of business.

I called Adam. Without fanfare I was soon back on the sofa. He reminded me of the $5.00 carrying charge. He brought me a Coke and said that he was going to excuse himself to make those phone calls.

He returned a few minutes later. He said, "You have an appointment with Dr. Williams at 2:30. Meanwhile, the clock is running. I'll be right back again."

"What does he mean 'the clock is running'?" I thought. A couple of minutes later he returned with a portable camera pod, a camera and was leading several wires to their final resting place, next to his feet.

He began shooting pictures from one angle then another and then from others. I definitely felt photographed. He put the camera on the coffee table then walked around it and sat down next to me. He said, "You're really hurting, aren't you? I can tell it in your eyes. Your body is wooden, which means it's not free flowing and relaxed. Dr. Williams, I'm sure, will fix you right up. Why don't you rest. I'll go fix us some PBJ's. Do you like grape jelly?"

"Oh yeah. I love 'em. I eat them all the time." I replied happily.

Adam regarded me seriously then he smiled, "Coming right up. But it's going to cost you."

I smiled. He smiled then left for the kitchen.

I'm not one to lay around doing nothing. I exercised my leg, pulling it as far back as I could go then extended it. I repeated that several times and tested it by standing up. It was okay, definitely it was not experiencing the spasms it had done earlier in the day.

Slowly but surely I walked into the kitchen. Adam, surprised, said, "You're supposed to be resting."

I replied, "I"m not much for lying around. My mom often reminds me that I used to kick the shit out of her when I was inside – yuck – if only I'd known the..." I giggled knowing all too well that what I'd started to say was true.

Adam, picked up on my giggle, made light of it. He handed me place mats and pointed to the bar. I put them in their respective places while he brought the sandwiches. With a boost I easily mounted the bar stool.

We chit chatted idly about this and that, nothing too serious. The more we talked the more I liked him.

When we were finished eating, he insisted on cleaning up our messes but that he was charging $15.00 for room service. I laughed so hard it hurt. I hadn't laughed that hard in so long, and it felt good.

The doctor was punctual for the 2:30 appointment, as were we having arrived about 15 minutes before the scheduled appointment time. He was quite portly, to put it nicely, yet his personality was warm and inviting. He escorted me to the treatment room. He asked some really basic questions about my medical history – the usual – was I taking any medicine or using any street drugs or booze, Was I allergic to anything? Etc.

"James, we're going to take x-rays just to make sure nothing bad is going on inside of your hip and other bones. Sometimes pain is a sign of a serious underlying issue like cancer or a break in a bone."

Cancer? Me? I'm only 11 for fuck sakes. But it scared me.

"Okay, no needles though. I hate needles."

Dr. Williams smiled and reassuringly said, "Oh no. No needles, I don't like them either. Tell you what, I'm going to leave. While I'm gone take all your clothes off. Just hang them up on the coat hook hanging on the door. We'll get your x-rays taken then we'll know where to go from there. Does that sound like a plan?"

When I approved, the doctor and Adam left the room after Adam gave me assurances that he'd be close by. Before he left though, he asked if I wanted him to stick around. Respectfully, I declined.

I stripped though I left my underwear on. After a short wait, the doctor returned. I saw Adam standing in the hallway. He waived. I smiled then turned my attention to Doctor Williams.

Dr. Williams said professionally, "We're going to take x-rays of your neck, back and legs. Sometimes hip problems come from feet and leg disorders. Those pictures are okay to have shorts on but when we get to your hips you'll need to remove them."

I nodded my understanding.

When the time to finish stripping arrived, I lowered my underwear over my hips. Dr. Williams took them the rest of the way off and hung them on the hook with my other clothes. I had boned up significantly. The doctor seemed to have not noticed. He took several pictures including some where I had to spread my legs open like a fuckin frog lying on its back. The last x-ray was taken with my feet hung up on IV poles. That was embarrassing, knowing my butt was wide open and available for him to see... but he was professional all the way.

When the x-rays were finished he helped me to the exam table and covered my south of the border area with a white, soft towel and exited after saying he'd back in a few minutes, as soon as the x-rays were developed and put into the computer.

He returned a few minutes later. He said, "I didn't see anything serious like a fracture or tumor. Your spine is out of alignment though. Your hip appears to be wedged against the other bones. I'm going to give you an adjustment but first I'm going to examine you.

With that he proceeded to listen to my lungs, feel my neck and my belly then he pulled my erect dick out away from my belly, examined it very carefully (every time he'd touch it my anal muscles contracted). He said, "You're starting puberty, James. Everything looks just fine. Everything's right on track. Now, lie on your side so I can examine your back." I did so.

He felt up and down my spine from the neck to my tail bone and then parted my cheeks. I felt air softly blowing across my crack. I found that odd but as soon as it started it ended. He then pushed hard on my anus, separating its folds. I wasn't sure why he wanted to look that deep. He let go of my butt cheeks. I heard the snapping of a glove. He said, "Okay, you're going to feel something cold against your bottom. Just relax."

Just as he said 'relax' I felt his finger invade my inner sanctum. He wiggled it around several times then pushed on something that made me feel like I was going to pee. Then it was gone and he removed his finger and wiped me with a Kleenex.

"What's in there?" I asked suddenly curious why he'd stick his finger up my ass.

He replied, "You have glands that secrete mucous and other lubricants to help with elimination. They all feel normal. I didn't feel any cancer tumors in there. There is also a gland that when you grow up some more will create juices which carry sperms outside of your body."

"Why did it feel like I needed to pee real bad?"

"That gland surrounds the tube that carries your pee to the outside." Dr. Williams said professionally.

"Oh okay, I've never had that done before. It just felt weird. It didn't hurt or anything." I said.

Satisfied, he caused my joints to pop, snap and crack. When he popped my hip, although it hurt like a motherfucker at the instant, it immediately felt better. He made a big deal out of saying that that was probably the main problem causing me pain.

He had me roll over on my stomach. He proceeded to rock, rattle and roll my spine thus causing it to pop and relax. I found it weird when he traced my spine down to and then felt my tail bone, but he didn't linger. He said, "Okay, all done. I'm going to have a massage therapist come give you a deep tissue massage treatment. You should be as good as new though you might be a little sore from me banging around on your body."

The massage therapist soon entered. She was an older lady. Immediately she grabbed a towel and covered my bits, lower belly and upper thighs. She worked her way from my neck to my pubic mound. Because I was hard as a steel pillar she brushed against my cock on her way into my groin and onto my upper thigh. Not paying any extra time doing that she finished my upper body massage then began at my feet. I'm horribly ticklish on my feet but she did it in such a way that tickling wasn't a problem. She continued on up my legs, first one and then the other in the same way.

The aroma emanating from the oils was very pleasant and pleasurable. I was easily relaxing very tense muscles with her expert ministrations.

She had me turn onto my stomach then she really went to work. While she was working she would say that I had many knots in my muscles. Sometimes when she pressed into them I just about came off the table. She would gently reassure me to relax as much as possible. I did as much as possible though it wasn't easy at times. Nevertheless she made it down to my globes. She treated them much the same way but then she did something odd – she stuck her finger up and into my butt hole and massaged it too! Because of the hot oils and her actions, I felt my belly rumbling. I said, "You'd better stop now. I'm going to poop all over the place. I can't help it!

She stopped though her finger remained in place. My stomach stopped rumbling. Slowly she extracted her finger, wiped me, and said, "You're empty. Sometimes that little muscle gets overlooked, and it works rather hard sometimes, don't you agree?"

Easily I said, "Yeah, definitely."

"Okay, James, I'm going to leave now. Take your time. Don't move too fast. We don't want to undo anything. Meanwhile, take your time. Just come out to the receptionist once you're finished."

Before leaving, I asked, "Uhm, could you leave just a little bit of that hot oil?" I blushed, she smiled and left the jar open with a brief instruction to close it when I was done with it.

She patted me on my lower back, allowed her thumb to travel once again into the top of my crack. Automatically, or instinctively, or something, I raised my hips to her touch. She brushed my butt hole then rapidly walked out of the room.

My cock was raging hard. I knew it wouldn't go down without some 'assistance'. I got up and off the table, went to the door and found it ajar. I closed and locked it. I put a towel on a chair, sat down, extracted a dollop of the hot oil and then very, very quickly brought myself to a powerful and mind altering and mind shattering conclusion, an orgasm so strong that my toes curled downward. I gotta remember using that kind of oil in the future! I wondered if Adam would buy some for me... hmmmm -or- hell, I was going to be making some money of my own - regardless I WOULD get some of that magic elixir.

Until then... she was missing one little jar of the good stuff. It was very, very warm to my leg! Suddenly, I got a case of conscience. I couldn't do it. I carefully replaced the jar I was about to kype.

After getting dressed, without difficulty I walked to the waiting room. The massage therapist was sitting at the desk doing paperwork. She looked up, saw me and smiled, and advised me that Adam was consulting with the doctor and that he'd be right out, and for me to sit and wait. I made sure I'd told her I closed up the jar of oil. She smiled again and winked.

I replied, "I feel a whole bunch better. I'm relaxed. My hip doesn't hurt at all right now. Thanks."

Adam arrived with the doctor shortly thereafter. I stood and warmly greeted them. Dr. Williams suggested that I soak in a hot tub of water later on before going to bed. He told me to come back anytime, that I might need another treatment or two to get fully recovered from my injuries.

Since it was getting late, I agreed to accompany Adam to dinner at a rich man's snobby country club type restaurant. I'd never ate in a place like that. He showed me how to use the silverware and told me what each piece meant. I ended up using a single knife and fork. (Why the hell they have all those knives, forks and spoons eluded my 11 year old brain, and it still does today).

I didn't get home until after 9:00pm. I was tired but not sleepy. After watching some stupid news, which was on all channels, I found a syndicated rerun of The Three Stooges on a PBS station... to say that I laughed would be a huge understatement.

Just as the doctor ordered, and just before going to bed I got into a bathtub full of hot water, luxuriated for about 30 minutes all the while running my hands up and down my body while using plenty of mineral oil which made my skin slick and shiny.

While I had felt the attention paid to my butt hole that day felt odd I was nevertheless attracted to it. Easily, gently, I inserted my middle finger to the hilt and then found that I could insert my index finger too. I rubbed and rolled and massaged those muscles until my cock began jutting up and out of the water. With my other hand, I grasped that which designates me as male and jacked off to a very successful conclusion. Meanwhile my belly began rumbling again, just like when the massage therapist had performed her magic, so I quickly and carefully got out of the tub and took care of that issue.

The following morning, I was awoken by loud raps on the back kitchen door. I bolted upright, clambered into my underwear, walked into the kitchen and noticed that it was Adam. He was standing there but was not looking into the window. I went to the door and opened it and invited him in.

"What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?" I said sleepily, not yet awake.

Adam smiled then giggled, "I brought you home, remember? Which, by the way will cost you $28.00 for limo service."

"Come on in, you're right, I forgot. Let me get a shower and some breakfast." I said suddenly aware that my cock was definitely straining the front of my underwear up and out for all to see. I blushed furiously and told Adam to find a chair to sit in.

With that, I took off for the bathroom, peed a storm, took a quick shower then streaked to my bedroom where I got dressed.

Adam offered to take me to breakfast at Mickey-D's, 'on him, as a friend'. I readily accepted his invitation.

After eating, Adam took us into the city and stopped in the front of a bicycle shop. I acted like I was going to wait for him but he insisted that I come with him, so I did. The joint was a high end establishment. The cheapest bike I saw was $475.00 plus tax, the most expensive was $1,200.00. Another bike I really took a liking to had no price tag on it. It was a Trek 6000 WSD model. A salesman walked over and adjusted the seat down to its lowest position. It fit just right. He said the bike was one that I could grow into.

I continued to look at bikes while Adam was off in the back room. I figured he was doing business with some men that had gone in with him. I kept going to the bike the salesman had form fitted to my height. Finally, I got bored. I went outside, sat down at the curb, lit up a cigarette, took a big drag from it, coughed my fool head off until spit was running out of my mouth and onto my chin. I figured that one day I'd get the hang of it, even if it killed me in the process.

Next door was a doll shop. It was open even at that early time of the day. I finished off the cigarette and went inside after not seeing Adam return to the sales floor. The proprietor was an elderly lady – she had to have been 90 years old. She looked up and smiled. She walked to me and then asked if I was specifically looking for something. I told her I didn't know and asked if I could just look around. She said sure but she followed at a very close distance informing me about this one and that one, what it was made of, any previous owners it may have had. She wouldn't say how much the dolls were unless I specifically asked. One, a Shirley Temple had been an heir for 3 generations. I hated to ask the price. She was reluctant to provide a price but did so. She replied that it retailed for $8,000.00 bucks. I swallowed hard.

It was then that I saw Adam looking all around outside. Concern etched his face. He had worry lines stretching out from his eyes. I told the lady thanks and made my way to the sidewalk. Adam saw me then sighed out a huge breath. I gathered that he actually gave a flying fuck about me, and my whereabouts, what I was doing, and why. He wasn't angry or pissed or disappointed. He asked if I'd seen anything interesting and apologized for making me wait so long. I told him about the Shirley Temple doll, and how much it cost. He whistled.

We walked to his car. He opened the door. When I turned around to get in I saw the salesman who'd talked to me. He was standing at the doorway. He also had the bike next to his side. With a grin on his face, he said, "Don't forget this!"

I looked to Adam then back to the salesman then back to Adam then back to the salesman, and finally back to Adam. Adam smiled, "Well, do you expect me to chauffeur you everywhere we or you go to? What do you think I am – a driver for an eleven and a half year old, or what?"

Leaving the car door open I walked around the car to Adam. In a hushed voice I hissed, "I need the money Adam. I can't go buying things like this. You should have asked me first!"

He put his hand on my shoulder just like he'd done before. He looked at me carefully, sincerely, and said, "There you go – jumping to conclusions. Who said you had to buy it? I thought we had the prices for things already figured out... you know, carrying charges of $5.00 per trip, PBJ's for two at $15.00, $10.00 for water usage..."

"I can't have that, Adam. I can barely get on it. It'll get stolen or some shit." And a whole litany of excuses and justifications why I couldn't have it. Adam just looked at me and listened. When I ran out of steam he went to the salesman. They talked for a moment. The salesman disappeared into the store. Adam kept looking at me like he had something to say yet he said nothing. A few moments later the salesman went to the back of Adam's car and affixed a bike rack to the bumper. He then took the bike and placed it appropriately and made sure the brackets were just right and secure.

"Are you riding with me?" Adam asked softly.

Against my usual reserved self I felt no choice but to hug him. I hugged tightly as my reserves began breaking down. Adam sensed my impending implosion and kept me close to his shirt with his arms around my shoulders. When I regained my composure, even though I hadn't cried other than to leak a few water drops from my eyes, he urged me to get into the car. I did.

He took me home, unclasped the brackets and then led the bike into the garage where it stood in the middle of all kinds of junk and shit. It was the shiniest thing in there. Just as Adam was getting ready to leave, he said, "How about we meet here in the morning. I've got a bike too. Maybe by then you'll want to go riding... oh wait, how's your hip?"

"It feels better. Thanks Adam. I'm sorry I was such a big fucking big baby at the store. I'm just not used to being given shit without it costing me in some way." I said then reluctantly extended my arms. He took the hint and gave me a big bear hug, lifting me from the pavement, and held on.

We parted ways. Adam said he'd be there to pick me up at 6:30am the following morning. I went inside, undressed to my skin, and rubbed quick one off using the massage oils. Once again I blasted into outer space.

It was still early.

Because the temperature was still warm I put on a pair of those dark red silky shorts without underwear. I went to the garage, opened the door and stood looking at the bike. I ran my fingers over the bars. It felt hella nice. I then spotted a towel that the sperm donor used to wipe down and wax his car. I snagged it and wiped down my bike, even though it didn't need it. I tossed the towel near to where it had resided.

I thought fuck it, and leaned over to smell the tires. The smell of brand new rubber pushed me over the edge. Without a second thought, I took off and rode to the park and rode the trails and then to the dairy store where I went in and asked for an ice cream cone. I was refused entry because of their "no shirt" rule so I thought what the fuck and went to the drive through. The only problem was that I hadn't taken any money. Not to worry. The attendant held the cone in one hand and the other was held out for currency... I snagged the cone and quickly rode off. The bike was exceptionally light so I had no problem navigating it through the back roads toward home, slurping all the while.

After arriving home, I raced into the kitchen and rinsed my hands free of the melted ice cream. I returned to the garage, wiped the bike off, locked it and closed the garage door and went inside where I stripped naked, took a hot bath, made 5 slices of cinnamon toast, ate them in the silence of the house, wondering and wondering some more about what everything meant. After I was unable to draw any conclusions, I locked the house, went to bed and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead