Georgie, Georgie Puddin’ Pie, Kiss The Boys and Made Them Cry

George took one last look in the mirror.  He straightened his tie and ran each hand across the opposite sleeve of his shirt.  

“Looking good, Georgie,”  he said to his reflection with a wink and smile.

George was always an early arriver for services on Sunday.  He liked helping the priest and the altar boys get things set up.  Always ready to assist, that was George.  

When he arrived, Sean, whom everyone called Pinky, was washing the candle globes and Ben was checking candle lengths.  They were giggling quietly.

“Hi ya, boys.  How’s it hanging”

They both had to put their hands in front of their mouths to prevent their laughter from spilling out.

He liked to make them laugh, liked when he felt clever with his undertones.

“Ya can’t say that in church, Mr. Towalski.”  Pinky said.

George put his hand in front of his face and folded down all his fingers except his little one.

“You can’t say that in church, Mr. Towalski.”  His pinky finger bent and straightened as he spoke in a child-like nasal voice.

He laughed and scruffed up both boys hair, one with each hand.  He turned and walked in the direction of the cabinet that contained the liturgical books.  He put his hands to his nose and inhaled deep.  

The side door flew open as a new boy arrived, the third of five that served the 9 o’clock mass.  It was Jimmy.  George liked to call him James, like in the bible, one of the chosen apostles. The young boy was heavy set, and his face was trampled by pimples and pock marks.  His carrot-colored hair was cut short, almost into a crewcut.  He slipped the round yoke of the white cotta over his black shirt and stuck his arms through the three quarter sleeves and yanked the bottom so it shifted down the girth of him to his hips.  He moved to where the other boys were working.  On his way, he knocked the wafers, wine and water over to the sanctuary floor with his dangling sleeve.

“What the fudge, Jimmy.”  Pinky said irritated.  

“I got it.  Sorry.  I’m really sorry.”  

George came over with a towel, a roll of paper towels, and a spray bottle of cleaner.

“I’ll give you a hand with that, James.”  he said cheerily.  “Accidents happen.”

“Yeah, well, he’s like an accident waiting to happen.”  Pinky said.

“Decorum boys, decorum.  Go on and get the bells.  Oh, and, Ben, the candles go tall to short.  You might want to rearrange those.  

“Will do, Mr. Towalski.  And thanks.”

“Pinky, are you attending to the fans today?”

The boy nodded his head.

“Well, get on it. It’s almost show time, boys.”

They all smiled, including George.  

“Guess what I got yesterday, James?”

“Tell me you didn’t get Delta Kong Force 3.”

“Oh, yeah, and am I going to kick your butt when I play you.”

“Can I come over today.  Please…Please.”  James lower lip curled downward and he put both his hands together in a prayer position.

“Maybe.”  George replied.

James wasn’t satisfied with the maybe and kept begging until George relented.  

“Well, you’ve got to do me a favor, though, cause I’m not supposed to be home.  I’m to lead the prayer group over in Jackson, and if Father Paul hears I skipped out and instead stayed home to play video games…well, you can guess what level of hell I’ll be relegated to.

“Sure.  Sure.  Anything you say.  Mum’s the word.  I won’t tell anybody.”  Jimmy holds a pretend key to his lips and turns them to locked.

“Atta boy.  See you later today, then.”

Jimmy jumped up elated.  HIs eyes bright with excitement.  He looked at George like he was his best friend on earth.  

The Sunday service went slow.  George was anxious to get home.  He wanted to make some of his special lemonade.  Oh, and he needed to stop and get some cookies, Freihofer chocolate chips.  

Jimmy arrived at a little past four.  George opened the door and ushered him in.  He stuck his head out and looked up and down the road and at the house adjacent to his.  It looked still, everything looked as if deserted.  He’d picked a nice quiet dead end when he was looking to purchase a home.  The perfectly quietest of streets to suit an older church-going gent.  George took Jimmy’s coat from the chair he’d thrown it on and hung it up next to his own.  His fingers lingered and stroked the material.

“Hey, I got us all set up in the gameroom downstairs.  Made some homestyle lemonade.  There’s cookies too. “

“Great.  Let’s go.”  Jimmy led the way.  He’d been to George’s house a couple of times before to play video games with his friend Pete, who’d moved away a couple of weeks ago.  George knew he felt comfortable here.  Jimmy had told him it was great, no one yelled at him, called him names.  He said George treated him like a friend and with Pete gone he really didn’t have anyone else.

George poured them each a glass of lemonade.  Jimmy had already started up the gaming system and put in the new disc.  

“Holy shit.  Look at these graphics.”  He smiled up at George and took a sip of his lemonade.  He made a face.

“Too tart?”  George asked.  “I knew it.  I tried to doctor up some crappy powder to make it taste more like real lemonade.  Shoulda left it alone.  Here, let me toss it out and I’ll make you some fresh.”

“No, it just takes getting used to.  It’s fine.  Come on, grab your controller and let’s get this going on.”  He fist pumped into the air.  

It took only a game and a half glass of lemonade for Jimmy to start acting lethargic.

“You okay, James?  You look tired.  Too many cookies, maybe?”  George laughed.

“I’m beat.”  He yawned and slid his head back against the sofa headrest.”

“Here.  Put your feet up.”  George grabbed both the boys legs and swung them onto the couch.  He removed his shoes.  “I’m gonna go upstairs and get some work done.  You grab a catnap and then we can resume my kicking your ass.”

Jimmy tried to laugh but all that came out was a thick throaty grunt.

Ten minutes later —  A long ten minutes to George.  He had the timer of the stove set, just so he didn’t rush it — he made his way down the stairs. He was naked.  HIs erection bobbed against his belly like a metronome, leaving a slimy, sticky trail in the thick land of black curls that was the surface of his chest and belly.

“James, are you awake?”

There was no reply.  George went to work undressing the boy.  First off were his socks.  He smelled the boys feet.  Put a big toe in his mouth and sucked hard.  A small squeal of delight escaped through the edges of his lips.  He tugged down the boy’s pants.  Jimmy’s pudgy belly hung over the top edge of his boxers.  George rubbed the belly and then moved his hand to the rim of shorts and gently moved them down, careful not to get tangled in the boy’s business, his junk as the kid’s today said.  He didn’t touch anything he’d exposed, not yet.  He wanted to savor that first touch.

Once his shorts were off, the only obstruction  was the shirt, which was a little more complex to remove with the boy being hefty and lying on his side.  

“Oh, well, perhaps we’ll leave it on for now.”  He said outloud.

He came around the back of the couch and slid up behind the boy, curling his body around Jimmy’s.  He whispered in his ear.

“Wanna feel my thick woodie, James?”

Jimmy stirred but did not wake.

George grinded his crotch against the boy’s backside.  He came.


He’d have to wait now.  Twenty minutes.  He’d be ready again in twenty minutes.  

He got up and wiped the spew off the boy’s back and then walked to the front of the couch.  He repositioned the boy and sat on the floor next to him. He stroked Jimmy’s flaccid penis.  He squeezed  the scrotum and then began licking it, placing all of it, penis and scrotum, in his mouth.  He held them there until his jaw hurt.  

He turned back around and lay his head touching the boy’s knees.  He was content.  He thought about the leadership workshop he was to give next week, what he’d say.  He thought about getting an oil change.  He even thought about balancing his checkbook, which was two days overdue.  His cock began to stir.  Works every time, he thought.   He rubbed his hand across and squeezed each of his nipples while his other hand was jerking the half-asleep apparatus. He closed his eyes and fantasized about penetrating the tight walls of the boy’s anus with his Vaseline-lined fingers, burrowing deep into the narrow path. George grew thicker and longer the deeper he projected. He’d pulled out of the fantasy just as the fluid spray throbbed in waves across his midsection.  A hazy feeling of contentment made his eyelids heavy.  He slid back into position behind Jimmy and wrapped his arms gently around the boy.

“Twenty minutes.  That’s all I’ll need.”