DISCLAIMER:
This story is fictional. No real boys have been harmed in the writing.
Certain characters have been inspired by ones created by Linwood Boomer and copyrighted by Regency Entertainment. The main characters also contain traits of people I really knew. The television show "Malcolm in the Middle" is copyright 2000 by Twentieth Century Fox Television, Regency Entertainment, and Monarchy Enterprises. This story in no way implies the true sexual orientation of the actors or characters they portray. It is pure fantasy.
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES-PLEASE READ
While these stories are inspired by the TV show "Malcolm in the Middle" and reference elements from them, in no way do you have to be familiar with the show to enjoy the stories. As the narrator, I describe everyone fully, just as if it were really happening to me for the first time. So it's just like reading a totally made-up story from the Adult/Youth section (my favorite section). Each story is self-contained and also has a cum scene. So you can just read one chapter and jack-off to it, then come back a day or month later and jack-off to the next chapter. The first few chapters are just me cumming but later...well, I don't want to give too much away. I try to make my stories real - to set things up as if what ends up happening could have truly happened. So to get into it, you need to read the whole story and see how things end up happening. If you do, the story will have more "impact" on you at the end-if you know what I mean. Thanks for reading, and let me know if you like it.
Malcolm and My Neighbors Chapter 1 Naked Indians
I had my pick of houses to buy. I was 22, a year out of college, and had just landed a job as the gym teacher at the nearby combined elementary/middle school. I was lucky to get any job as a physical education teacher, but then, most people want the high school positions. But me, I like the younger kids. I mean, I REALLY like the younger kids, if you know what I mean. Well...boys, that is. Anyway, the neighborhood was about 20 minutes from my friends and family, but I preferred to live near work. With the location of these houses, I could actually walk to school. Plus, I thought it was time to get a little buffer between my family and me...time to branch out and start my own life independently.
The interesting thing is that there were 3 houses for sale - all surrounding this one house that wasn't for sale. The one not for sale had a very shabby looking yard. The houses for sale were the ones on each side of it, and the one across the street. I suppose had there been a house behind, that might have been for sale as well. But behind the houses were some woods and a creek. Of the three available, I had focused on the one to the right. The driveway of it met the driveway of the shabby house next door. But the previous owners had planted a row of shrubs in between the driveways as a buffer. Still, someone had been apparently walking or running through it, because there was a path worn through the hedge back near the fence. And that was another thing. The back yard was surrounded by an eight foot tall fence. I figured that was just for privacy because of the in ground pool. But what was really interesting is that the fence along the left side (the one adjoining the shabby yard house) was fortified with sheet metal and extra boards. I didn't think too much about it at the time — maybe that wall got a lot of wind or something. Anyway, the house was in decent shape and of the 3 available it was the only one with a pool. It also had a basement, which was apparently rare in this neighborhood.
So, it was my second visit to see the property and I had pretty much decided on the house but I was still wondering about the neighbors. The real estate agent and I were walking out the door when she got a call and had to run. But that was fine since we had arrived in separate cars. As I was walking to my car, I heard someone in the driveway next door so I walked between the gap in the hedge to see a man of about 40 rinsing off an old dodge van.
"Hi," I said, "I'm thinking about maybe buying the house next door." "Oh good," he said, doing a final squirt of water on the side door. "Just rinsing off a bit of war paint."
War paint? Just then, I heard whooping and hollering, and looked up to see 3 boys running across the yard to the swing set. The guy with the hose kept talking, but I didn't hear a word he said. Thirty feet away from me was my wetdream of all wetdreams. Three boys about 6, 8, and 11, with Indian stripes on their face and chest. The 2 older ones had only loincloths on, and the little one was completely NAKED!
I hadn't really thought about 6-year-olds before. My favorite age is 11 or 12, but just the audacity of this little bugger running around completely naked with warpaint and screaming — it reeked male sexuality. He looked to be about 40 pounds and not much over 3 feet tall. I would guess his nose was just about the height of the kitchen countertop. He looked to be blond, but it was hard to tell how blond. All 3 of the boys had caked hair gel – or something–into their hair in order to shape it in the middle and make it stick up like a mohawk. The little tyke was fairly tan for a blond. Even his ass and cock were not the blinding white that you would expect. (And that's unfortunate, cause I think that's so hot.) Anyway, I got the impression that he was no stranger to naked outdoor play. His cock was about an inch and a half I'd say—probably about an inch of actual cock and a half inch of foreskin. I wondered how big it was hard. Had he ever been hard? Would the foreskin still cover it or would the head peek out? No way to guess. His marble size balls were just barely visible. But he had the cutest ears that stuck out pretty far, and gorgeous big brown eyes. And then there was his ass. A lot of little boys have those pathetic soft squishy totally flat butts until they hit puberty. Not this little stud. His was a big boy butt. Firm and round and arching out from his little waist. I would guess that if he were lying on his stomach, the top of his butt would be about 5 inches higher than his waist. Okay, maybe 4, but still, perfection.
Just watching the 3 of them run around looking and screaming like animals was as sexy as any porno on earth could be. I was glad I was wearing tight jeans that kept my raging 6 inch hard-on hidden. My cock had started to grow as soon as my brain began to process the sight before me and in a few seconds was fully engorged, although, painfully pushed down into the pants leg of my Levis.
By this time, the oldest one was standing on top of the sliding board dancing and whooping, while the younger 2 were running around the slide doing a war dance. Then the little one saw me. "Well, that's the end of that show," I thought, sadly, "now he's going to run into the house to hide his nakedness." But no. He looked right at me and screamed, "White man!" and ran over to me, toy tomahawk in the air, his little cocklett bouncing and jiggling all the way. He stopped about 4 feet from me, both arms raised, ready to attack. I drank in the white hairless armpits (yeh, that's one of my things) and the rest of this naked angel. I'm sure he wasn't trying to be sexual (well, pretty sure) but the way he was leaning back with his arms ready to attack and wiggling and yelling, it gave the effect of jutting his cock out toward me and shaking it back and forth, almost as if he were saying, "Suck it, white man."
Believe me, in another world–in a culture where it was permissible, I would have readily dropped to my knees, feasted on his offering and been the sexslave of this miniature warrior. As it was, my knees buckled and I had to back up and lean against the van for support. The father apparently noticed my plight and said, "Don't be scared, he's just playing." Surely now, the show would be over and the "jutting cockboy" would be sent into the house to get some clothes. And though disappointed, I was more than a little relieved as I was afraid that any minute I was going to be convulsing in a spontaneous orgasm. But again, no. The father gently turned him around, gave him a gentle push on that beautiful bare back and simply said, "Go play, honey."
Then he called after him, "Dewey, where's your loincloth?" (Okay, NOW was the show over?)
"Reese's rope broke, and he took mine."
"Okay, just be careful where you sit."
Wow. So the little one's name was Dewey, and one of the other two was called Reese. Unusual names. "Which one's Reese?" I asked. (I was only just able to speak.)
"Reese is the one on top of the sliding board and the other one is Malcolm."
But I haven't yet described the other two. Let's start with Malcolm. According to his father, he wasn't 8, but actually 11–just a late bloomer. He was a little over 4 feet tall and very skinny. Not as much butt as his brothers, but then, what I could see of it (which was a lot, actually) his WAS that stupendous blinding white in contrast to his slightly darker skin. Yum yum! The loincloths they wore were only about 3 inches wide both in the front and back, barely covering their most intimate delicacies. So Malcolm, while maybe not as traditionally "hot" as his older brother had a certain shy innocence about him which made him all the more attractive to me. While it was terribly sexy for the littlest one to run around so confidently uncovered, it would be equally sexy to get a peek at this more reserved brother's most private parts, either accidentally or with his permission.
And then there was Reese. The oldest at 12 and also small for his Age – maybe about 4 and a half feet in height if that. But he was already getting a shape – flat stomach and thin waste and the beginning of pecs. And like his little brother, that wonderful jutting, firm, curve of an Ass – definitely 5 inches out from the waist for him. And he had a fair amount of tan already, considering it was only June. Of the three brothers, he seemed to be the most confident. Or I don't know if confident is the word. He seemed to just not care. I mean–he was "out there" – screaming and jumping on the slide more like a wild animal than an Indian. He definitely had a "devil-may-care" attitude about him. Like his little brother; but in a more pointed, stronger way, he oozed sexuality and maleness from the top of that kiddie slide.
Meanwhile, Dewey was climbing the ladder of the slide and saying, "I want my loincloth back." He started tugging on the little piece of cloth that was the only thing separating Reese's privates from my horny gaze. Reese just kept dancing and whooping. Did he not realize his brother was about to denude him? Did he not know a stranger was standing in the driveway watching? Did he not care? Little Dewey had managed to pull the cloth down from his brother's crotch to the point where he could wrap his fingers fully around it. Then, with one swift hard tug, it pulled out of the binder and completely off, leaving Reese with nothing but a rope around his waist. No lie, I really did nearly faint. I managed to stay upright while leaning against the van, but I did black out for a second or two.
Thankfully, I didn't miss the next part. As Reese, turned around to look down at Dewey, Malcolm shimmied up the slide and aimed–and I mean he took his time and aimed his tomahawk right for Reese's buttcrack. Swoosh! "Ow," yelled Reese. The next thing I knew, Malcolm and Dewey were running past us to the front yard–and Reese was running after them – TOTALLY NAKED! TO THE FRONT YARD!!!
Dewey hadn't bothered to don the loincloth but was still naked as well–twirling the scant piece of clothing over his head while whooping like an Indian. "Boys, boys!" shouted their father, "Stop!"
Okay, finally some sanity? "Boys," said their father, I want you to meet Mr...?"
"Jones."
"Mr. Jones. He might buy the house next door."
"That would be nice," said Malcolm, obviously the one in the group who could show some decorum. "Can we swim in your pool?" asked Dewy, "Please, please, pleeeaassee?" By this time, he had wrapped his naked body around my leg. I took the opportunity to rub the back of his head and his shoulders as far as I could reach. Meanwhile, I was checking out the mini hunk-of-all-hunks, Reese, who was still jumping around me and saying things like, "Swim...pool...paleface." But at least I got to check him out close up. His bouncing boytool looked to be close to 3 inches long (counting the half inch of foreskin) and was there? Yes there was–just the tiniest wisps of pubic hair on each side of the base of his little morsel. His balls were also developed, the size of grapes and definitely hanging down in their sack, although not hanging as far as that beautiful cock.
I assured them they could swim in the pool if I decided to buy the house. IF? Who was I kidding?
The father, who by this time had told me his name was Hal, pried Dewey off of my leg (almost bumping my engorged dick in the process) and then the three boys proceeded out to the front yard at breakneck speed. What kind of family was this? Moreover, what kind of idiots would ever want to move away from them?
Just then, a woman, I assume the mother, came out the side door wearing a smock with a name badge that said, "Lois." You could hear the distant sounds of slapping and yelling coming from the front yard. "Boys, get over here!" she screamed. "Hal, the boys used up all my hair gel and lipstick. What are they doing with lipstick?"
"Honey, they're just playing Indians. They needed warpaint. Just be glad they're doing it outside and not in."
Just then, the boys came running back down the driveway and this time, Reese's cock wasn't jiggling as before. No. It was ROCK HARD!!! I kid you not. About 4 inches in length, as big around as a roll of dimes and sticking straight up. He ran back to the garage and stopped and turned around, doing a war yell and posing with his arms clenched to show off his budding biceps. Malcolm grabbed the hose off the driveway and aimed a pointed spray right at his brother's dick! It was a direct hit. Reese doubled over and ran off–I'm not sure if in pleasure or pain or both.
"Boys," shouted their mother. "Reese, come here!" Reese, with dick now at half-mast and sticking straight out from his hot little body, joined his brothers in the driveway. "Make sure you take a shower before bed and no more getting in my makeup!"
"Okay, Mom," said Malcolm, "we promise." "But can you get us some warpaint at the store, Mom?" asked Dewey. "I'll see, sweetie," answered his Mom. And the boys ran off around the back corner of the house which was both mercifully and sadly, out of my sight.
"Honey," said Hal, "this is Mr. Jones. He's thinking about buying the Waldman's house."
"Nice to meet you Mr. Jones, but sorry I have to get to work." She started to get into the van then stopped as if pulled back by something. She paused and gave me a serious look. "Listen, Mr. Jones. I'm sure you're a nice person and you'd make a wonderful neighbor. And we're nice people too, that is, Hal and me. But our kids...our kids are hellions. If you knew me, you'd know that my big thing is honesty. And I have to tell you, if you move in over there, whether you give them permission or not, you're going to have kids in your yard, in your pool and maybe with swimsuits, maybe not. If that's not okay, then consider yourself warned, and if it is okay, then welcome to the neighborhood." And with that, she kissed her husband, got in the van and drove off.
As she was starting the van, a crash was heard in the backyard and Hal went to investigate. And as she backed away, a still naked little Dewey was revealed on the other side of the van, peeing on the hedge between the driveways. He stood there unabashedly with his hands on his hips while bending in the middle to push his little penis forward. I couldn't help it; I walked over in order to stare at the golden nectar being released from that magically beautiful little wand. He didn't care. "Look, Mr. Jones," he looked up smiling, all cuteness and deliciousness, "I'm watering your bushes for you!"
"Yes you are, young man!" I knelt down to get on eye level with him and put my hand out to pat his head, but went lower to his back, then finally patted his waist just at the top of that luscious butt. I so wanted to go lower but thought better of it. You see for all of the lust I've just told you about, I had never been with anyone under age, at least not under my age. I was too afraid to risk it. Anyway, I'll tell you more about my history later.
But back to the story – I was so horny at this point I wondered if I had created a new medical condition. What would you call it when you have your first shake of an orgasm and your cum is already in your cock, ready to spew, but then you hold off cumming for 10 minutes? Whatever it is, I was in a state I had never been. But before I could cum, I had to make sure I got this house! I nearly ran to the car, then drove around the block to a side street where there were no houses close, stopped, pulled out my cellphone and my aching cock.
"Mrs. Rayburn," I said, "I definitely want the house." I was barely able to keep my hand off my raging hard-on but I was afraid that with one touch, I would spew. "That's great," she said, "because the owners are desperate and they just lowered the price again. I can meet you to do the contract in 30 minutes." I hung up the phone and was about to grab myself. But then I thought, "at least try to make this last." I looked around and saw no one. I reclined the seat all the way, undid my pants and pulled them and my underwear down below my knees. Then I took my shirt off in part because I wanted to be naked and in part because it was the only thing I had to catch the huge load I was about to shoot. I closed my eyes and replayed the scenes of the last 10 minutes. Images went flying through my head like someone quickly changing channels on the TV. I saw little Dewy shaking his tiny cocklett at me, Reese dancing fully naked on top of the slide, then getting a tomahawk between his cheeks, Reese with his raging boner getting hit by a water stream from Malcolm, and I saw myself rubbing the lower back of precious little Dewey while he made peepee with his sweet little peepee, just a foot and a half from my eyes...and mouth... Within seconds I felt my orgasm coming. It seemed to start in my toes, my fingertips and the top of my head, then converge in the middle of my body, then fan out again. I went into convulsions that wildly shook the car. If I had had my seatbelt on, it would have surly snapped. From somewhere deep within me–a new place I hadn't known about before, emerged my own unabashed war cry. "EEOOWWWOOOO!" I wailed as I exploded all over my hand–and not just my hand but my chest, my chin...there was cum all over the car ceiling. The space shuttle should have such a blast off. I almost passed out again. It was gut-wrenchingly wonderful. Finally, sweet release. I sat in my car, nearly naked, dazed as I recovered from what closely resembled a combination seizure and heart attack. Yes. I HAD to have that house!!!
But was I doing the right thing? Would I really enjoy the possibilities that lay ahead, or would it just be constant torture? My aching cock told me that I had to find out. And even if it would be torture, torture had never been so sweet.
Coming in chapter 2 – Reese's Visit
Please let me know if you like this story. Mushu410@mail.com
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