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How mom and boyfriend get to enjoy her kids.

Keeng reached the stairs, placed a hand on the rail and took a huge step clearing two stairs, then three steps at a time he blurred his way to the top.

Phelps hurried down the hallway, his eyes quickly scanning the numbers on each door. After what felt like an eternity, he found himself standing in front of the door to room eleven.

Keeng fumbled with his keyring, quickly jiggling the key for room twelve. The unrelenting lock mocked him, he quickly withdrew it and his shaking hands counted out the keys. Nine, ten, eleven. He plunged the key into the lock and gave it a twist. The click echoed. Without hesitation he flung the door open prepared for whatever he was going to find within.

Keeng stood in the doorway, staring at nothing. He felt lightheaded and uncertain of where he was. He suddenly felt younger and somewhere else.

"Yar such a pretty lad" the man said as he smiled at young Keeng. The man had streaks of gray interrupting the reddish orange of his beard. He smiled as he gently stroked Keeng's tousled hair. Keeng looked at the older man with admiration. Embarrassed by the compliment he quickly turned his gaze to the man's muscled body. Keeng ran his fingers along the man's chest, twirling spirals in the ruddy colored fur.

"Yar too pretty for yar own good boyo" the man said in a thick Irish accent. "We'll teach ya how to stick up for yarself. You'll need it lad, yer too deliciously gentle." He continued.

"I'm real good with a knife" Keeng reassured.

"Ya can't go about killin' everyone that calls ya sissy laddie, sometimes you joost need to bloody the man up and wreck his face a liht-uwl to make yar point." Eagan explained.

Jim Eagan came to the U.S. as a sailor from Ireland. He was already a young man of thirty-three and had heard that the United States had rumblings of a civil war. He knew that competent fighting men would soon be in short supply and so he made his way to New York. Eagan was a sailor, a fighting man and a pugilist. The aging Irishman had scores of barehanded boxing victories credited to his name and Keeng Phelps was madly in love with him.

"I can't fight like that Jim" Phelps said as he moved his hand towards Eagan's growing cock.

"Don't you worry laddie, we'll get you schooled up right. I'll teach you a thing or two boyo." Eagan said proudly as he folded his arms behind his head.

Keeng slowly stroked the throbbing shaft, carefully pulling back the foreskin and revealing the swollen purple head. He delivered a slow deliberate lick to the front of Eagan's member, paying close attention to that most magical of spots along the front tip. Keeng delivered another lick, then another. Eagan's leg began to twitch and he let out a satisfied moan. Looking up at the redhead, Keeng smiled and locked his lips on the front of the swollen post. He centered over that spot he called "the man clit" and tongued slow deliberate circles.

Eagan moaned, his leg moving unconsciously, sliding up and down along Keeng's naked body. Keeng began to stroke the back of the throbbing pole as he continued to lick circles on the man clit. Eagan began thrusting his hips, Keeng felt his strong hand on the side of his head. Eagan was writhing and panting. Keen increased the speed of the stroke and his tongue. He began to knead the front of the shaft with his lips, still tongueing the front. Eagan let out a loud groan, his body convulsing. Keeng felt the warm spurts landing on his face. He instinctively closed his eyes and let his love's liquid cover him.

Keeng placed a gentle kiss on Eagan's thigh. Proud of himself he looked up at Eagan. Still convulsing a bit Eagan gently stroked Keeng's face.

Yar a good boy." He sighed. "Now what do you want boyo?" Eagan said with a smile.

"What do you want boy" Eagans words echoed in Keeng's mind.

"I said what do you want boy?!" Eagan's Irish brogue now replaced by the gruff and uneducated utterance from Frank Nubb. "You just gonna stand der?" Nubb continued.

Keeng shook his head, returning to the moment.

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