In the fall of 2003, I met a 14 year old homeless kid we’ll call Adam. He panhandler in the same spot every day, so he was easy to find. His mother was an alcoholic, and he never knew his father. I would occasionally take him out for lunch, and make sure he was okay.

As the weather got colder, I got more worried about where he was going to stay, and how he was going to survive. I eventually broke, and offered him the couch in my one bedroom apartment.

I worked close to home, so for the first few weeks, I popped back in on lunch to bring him food and kinda just check that everything was okay. I almost assumed I’d come home to find all my stuff gone or something, but he was usually just watching television or reading.

I started working longer hours closer to Christmas, and wasn’t coming home on lunch anymore. I was getting home at around 9pm, and was usually super exhausted.

I got home one night, and the couch was empty. He wasn’t there. My heart sank, and I was instantly worried. I sighed heavily and decided to go to bed. Tomorrow was my day off, I’d try to find him then. I think I realized, in that moment, that I really cared about him.

I kicked my shoes off, and undressed for bed. My 14th floor apartment was warm enough that I just slept in a tank top and underwear.

I nudged the door of my room open, and there he was. Curled up in my bed, blankets wrapped around himself. The sound of the door swinging open woke him up. He apologized for being in my bed, and started to get out of my bed, explaining that sometimes he slept in my bed when he felt lonely and missed me.

Oof. My heart.

I insisted he stay in my bed. It’s a Queen, there’s plenty of room. I slipped under the sheets and wished him a good night.

You see where this is going, don’t you? I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe it’s because I was tired and just had a five minute emotional rollercoaster ride. Who knows.

In any event, I woke up at 3am, with his arm around me. He seemed to be asleep. I thought it was really sweet that he felt comfortable enough to be genuinely affectionate with me. Then, I realized that he had an erection, and was pressing it against me.

I whispered his name, sharply, if that makes sense? Kind of to startle him? He didn’t budge. He pushed against me. I laid there going between thinking about how inappropriate this was, giggling because it was actually kinda funny that he was doing it in his sleep, and feeling guilty that I was kinda automatically aroused.

I pushed back against him, to see what he would do. He pushed harder against me. I giggled, which was a bit of a mistake. It half woke him up.

He grumbled sleepily, and pushed against me again. I pushed back, invitingly, and he began to wake up fully. I moaned softly as he pushed his completely erect c*** against my now damn p******. He seemed to freeze, and his breathing increased. He apologized gingerly. I’ll never forget the tremble in his voice, the way he sounded embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I told him it was okay, and giggled against his teen c***. I wanted him badly, and I don’t think any amount of guilt could stop me. He asked if I was sure it was okay, and I answered by pushing my underwear to one side, and rubbing his d*** through his boxers.

He gasped and asked me to slow down. He confessed that he had never had s**, and said that he was nervous. I reassured him, as he pulled his uncut c*** out of his boxers, and pressed it against me. I wiggled down, and pushed my b*** out, so my p**** was easily accessible for him.

He pushed against me, almost desperate to find my p****. He adorably hit my a** a few times and tried to push in, before I redirected him to my wet little c***. He pushed inside, and we both moaned together.

We rocked against one another. His d*** wasn’t big, but it was basically perfect for my p****. I swear we fit together perfectly. We laid there, making love while spooning, until he squeezed me tight, and ejaculated inside me. I rolled over, full of his thick teen c**, and rubbed myself while we kissed, until I came.

We giggled, kissed, and shared some tender moments before falling asleep together.

This arrangement continued until Adam was 20, and asked me to marry him. Six weeks later, we found out we were having a baby. Fifteen years later, we are still happily married and have a beautiful daughter together.

The moral of the story is this

1. Always help people in need
2. Don’t take them for granted
3. Take risks
4. Love doesn’t discriminate