At the Motel With The Mitchells

BY : Wendell Urth
Category: Comics > Dennis the Menace
Dragon prints: 1464
Disclaimer: I do not own Dennis The Menace, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter 10: Sleepover

She got out of bed, I watched her dab at her pussy and legs with tissues and realized that she was leaking cum. Mine? Dennis’? I didn’t know that could happen! A pussy could be flooded like that. Not sure what I thought could happen. She smiled at me, winked, put her housecoat on and called to her husband, leaving me to put back on his underwear, plaid shorts and t shirt. I realized it smelled slightly of pipe tobacco.

I went downstairs and got ready to leave. If Mr. Mitchell noticed I wearing his clothes, he gave no sign. Dennis was watching TV. Mr. Mitchell patted him on the head, patted the dog on the head and headed for his study. That pat was the only affection for his son I ever saw. It was no more, no less than what he showed the dog

“Henry, you know David, Dennis’ babysitter?” He nodded. I wasn’t sure he did. “He’s sleeping over tonight. Isn’t that nice?”

Mr. Mitchell grunted; it was news to me. Evidently it was all arranged with my mom. He retreated to his study. Or fled. I went back to the kitchen with Mrs. Mitchell.

Whispering, “Davy, I need to ask you something. You know Dennis loves you.”

I was embarrassed, but still responded that I loved him too.

She looked at me, reading my mind. You want to ask me a question, now holding my hand, “Go ahead?”

“How did this start?” She knew what I meant.

“Not so differently than with you. I went into Dennis’ room, he was naked, two of his little friends were taking turns licking his penis. Needless to say, I was shocked.”

“Two?!?” I squeaked. “Gina and someone else?”

“No. Margaret and Joey. On their knees, doing their best to swallow his massive penis. All three naked.”

I wasn’t sure which one Joey was, Dennis had a lot of kids his age he hung out with. Margaret surprised me, I didn’t think he even like her, and said so.”

Mrs. Mitchell laughed. “Dennis doesn’t need to like someone to have them make love to him. I screamed for the two children to leave, I was positive this was all their fault and forbade Dennis to ever do such a thing again.”

He went white as a sheet. Then said. “OK, Mommy. I guess I’ll have to settle for just Gina and Tommy. And Gladys. Gladys was his babysitter at the time. My God, was he having sex with the entire neighborhood? I called Gladys up, fired her immediately. I called my boss, told him a lie and said I needed to take an immediate leave of absence; my son was ill.” She looked at me for a long moment. “Can you guess how Dennis reacted?’

“Not well?”

Gentle laugh. “Dennis began to shut down almost immediately. I tried to explain to him why he couldn’t… shouldn’t do that. He didn’t understand. He thought I was punishing him because I was like his daddy. I didn’t really love him anymore.”

I still didn’t understand. I nodded for her to go on.

“Day by day it got worse. He stopped talking, he stopped playing with Ruff. He was shutting down. One day, about two weeks later I was giving him a bath when he stood up, his dick just inches from my face. He started crying, dry heaving. What could I do? Just once, just once I swore.”

“Just once”? I asked.

“Just once, the first time!” we laughed together.

“Oh my, he was so happy.”

“Mommy gives the best ‘blowgies’? I repeated.

“Well, it became a daily thing, he was better…” she closed her eyes. “God forgive me, it wasn’t enough for him.” In a smaller voice. “Or for me”

Silence.

I wondered how she kept it from the other parents. Surprised, she laughed. It seemed that she didn’t.

“This is more common than you may believe. I was surprised. Tommy said something to me once. Seems Mrs. Anderson was sleeping with several of the neighborhood kids.”

“I know Mrs. Anderson, she worked with my Mom!” I said. “I can’t believe it” and shook my head.

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think. She winked at me. Today, I absolutely believe it.

Mrs. Mitchell smiled at me, “Are you OK, Davy? It’s a lot to take in. If you can’t do this, I understand. But I really, really want you to become one of us, if you can… but be really sure. Take all the time you need.”

Mrs. Mitchell walked me to Dennis’ room, she had set up a cot next to his bed. He was pretending to be asleep and if he didn’t fool me, he certainly didn’t fool his mom. She kissed him on the forehead, straightened his blankets. Kissed me on the lips gently and wished me sweet dreams.

Dennis turned over; he had a flashlight under the covers. “Davy?”

“Hmmm?”

“You sleepn’?“

“Yes, yes I am. Can’t ya’ hear me snoring? ZZZ-ZZZ-ZZZ”

He laughed. Then, “Davy, I’m sorry ‘bout before… what I said ‘bout Marie. I should’na said that stuff.”

“It’s OK champ. But you know you shouldn’t say things like that, at least not to anyone… else.”

“Yeah. Tough to remember some times. It’s OK with ‘Special Friends’. Jus’ I think of you like that, ya’ know?”

What could I say? He sounded heart broken. “It’s OK, kid. Get some sleep, OK?”

“Yeah. Sure ya’ ain’t mad?”

“Nah!” He stretched his arm out over my head and I slapped it away. It was a game we played. I was always faster slapping it away than he could yank it back. He giggled. Then “Love ya’ Davy. And he turned back towards the wall, flashlight out.”

Now my heart was broken.

I didn’t get much sleep. I don’t think he did either. In the darkness I thought about us. From what I heard I don’t think he got much affection from his father. Oh, he was getting plenty from women… and girls, boys too. But not from his dad. My dad had been plenty affectionate… then he was gone. I wondered what was worse. An affectionate dad who left suddenly and never came back. Or an unaffectionate one who was around. Whatever the difference, I was almost 15. He was 5.

“Davy?” came the small voice

“Yeah?”

“You know, I could do it to you, if you ‘can’t… want’ to do it... to me? It’s OK, ya’ know, for boys to do that. If they like… like… kinda’ love each other? Ya’ know?” Then, “Mom said so.” As if that was the ultimate authority.

How do I explain to a five-year-old something I couldn’t understand myself? All this was wrong, wrong, wrong. Wasn’t it?

Look, this was a different generation and I was still a kid and all this stuff about ‘gay’, ‘straight’ and ‘bi’ was all mixed up in my head. I knew there was nothing wrong with being gay. I knew it, but could I give a ‘blowgie’ to someone, get a ‘blowgie’? And from a five-year-old, no less!

“Not now kid, I want to get some sleep. C’ya in the morning.

“Yeah.”

Then I heard him weeping.

I couldn’t do it; I just couldn’t do it. At least, not yet. Not then.

Guess what? No one had ever told him about jerking off! He had no idea that he could pleasure himself without the need of a girl (or boy) his own age or a cousin in college or the neighborhood Milf. He went straight to ‘blowgies’ & ‘enter-cause’, skipping the basics.

I think that in every guy’s life there is at least one jerk off session with another guy… or more than one. Not something we’re proud of or that we discuss. And I find it hard to look at some of the guys in face later on. But you learn a lot. I did it for the first time in camp with two other guys in my tent and a counselor, I was the youngest (not as young as Dennis, but still…). I thought that would be the only time. But I did it again… that night with Dennis.

How much confusion and heartache would have been saved if Dennis had learned to jerk off? It just never occurred to his mom or anyone else, I guess.

It was a long time before we got to sleep but he mastered the basics.

If I was expecting turn gay overnight or an Invasion of the Body Snatchers the next morning, it didn’t happen. I woke up. He woke up. We got dressed, ‘wrassled’ a little. I felt… pretty good. But I usually felt pretty good in the morning after jerking off. Part of being a kid, I guess.

He wanted to rush and tell his mom about the great new thing I taught him… well, I told him that could wait! Another one of those things you really don’t need to discuss with your mom (and leave me out of the conversation!).

I saw Mrs. Mitchell, wearing a house coat, her hair a mess. She looked great. Was something different? In the way she looked at me? The way I looked at her? I had to think about it.

No. God she was still sexy and I wanted her.

“Whew! Gay? Bi? Straight? Feh! People are all many things at different times.” My older wife says it’s actually a pretty good thought. And she doesn’t agree with me often. My younger wife says we are both crazy. More about this later.

“Oh. And don’t tell either of my wives that I called them “Older” and “Younger!” If for a moment they knew I even thought about them that way… Well, we live in the desert, the only question is whether they’d bury my remains under a giant saguaro cactus as an unmarked gravestone or just chuck my carcass in a ravine for the coyotes to feast on.

(More To Come)



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