I watched, as I always did, from the window of my room on the fourth floor, to the usual congregation of hypocrites in the front of the house. My only hobby. Sometimes I imagined they were a small gathering of psychopaths who laughed and killed each other. The blood splashing inside the open mouths that still laughed, showing the true nature hiden beneath their masks, desperate to consume everyone else. The unhinged and rottenness of their souls. The red and the smiles. An epic ending

But, of course, that never happened. It was just one day like the others.

Except for the Johnson boy.

His room was on the third floor, with a window and a door that led directly to the side of my house, and that he could use to go out and enter instead of the stairs inside his home.

For some reason, perhaps because of the small heat that remained in the air, or because of the sense of freedom it granted, the door was open. Not completely, but enough to see a significant portion of the interior.

Mr. Morgan was standing at the internal access door saying things I could not read on his lips. The Johnson boy listened with attention while still seeing him in the face, with an -almost defiant- attitude of sufficiency.

I ran out of my room and down the endless row of stairs as fast as I could. I crossed the 20 meters of separation between both buildings without the congregation of hypocrites being aware of my presence, and climbed the side steps of the Morgan house from 2 to 2. I tried to calm my breathing before approaching the semi-open door. I needed to check what I had seen.

I watched the same scene a few moments ago, but this time Mr. Morgan unbuckled his belt while still mocking the Johnson boy. I thought about the hiting he was about to receive for challenging him, and what I could do to intervene and help him before it was too late. It was the first time I saw him in that attitude and I could not let the flame that was burning inside him go away. I had to face Mr. Morgan if necessary, but I did not bring anything with me to defend me. My brain had not planned things very well.

—Remove your pants and get in position—I heard him say it and my heart stopped. Mr. Morgan was smiling sideways as he continued to undo his pants after securing the door behind him.

I saw how the Johnson boy returned to his usual attitude, imperturbable, put down his pants and got down on 4 legs on the floor. He had closed the door in front of me a few more inches as he approached his uncle; however, the small range of vision that remained allowed me to see everything clearly.

For some reason I couldn't understand, I wanted to see it.

—Good boy— he smiled as he got down on his knees on the floor right in front of his nephew's exposed backside—. We must both work to make this work, don't you think?— He took out a small bottle of clear liquid from his pocket and I watched him put a little on his member and spread it while he continued talking, but I did not have my attention on him, but in the hazel-eyed boy who looked me straight in the eyes—. Come on, Jimmy, you are not delaying this like you did when you went to see your parents, are you?

Jimmy That was his name. Jimmy Johnson.

Mr. Morgan put his hands on Jimmy's hips and began to penetrate him. He did not break eye contact with me at any time. I saw him move in time with the man to facilitate the action, and after a few seconds, he also began to growl.

My heart increased its beats as I watched it transform from that prudish and submissive boy to a complacent lover. I could not take my eyes off him. The self-sufficient and challenging way he looked at me was hypnotic. I had discovered that within him lived a beast as beautiful as it was grotesque and he could not believe it.

He made a half smile, held his body in one arm, ande reached for his member as he began to caress it. His face squeezed in pleasure, but he did not look away from mine.

My hand moved, as if it had a life on its own, and went into the front of my sports shorts, through my underwear, until I reached my own pleasure center. Jimmy smiled.

I moved my fingers all over the outside enjoying the sensation and the noise that was caused by their growls. I imagined the hand of his member being the hand that stimulated me, and I had to grab the handrail to avoid falling.

I heard Mr. Morgan scream for release and I pulled my hand out of my underwear.

—You will be the owner of the inheritance— he said while I was trying to stay out of his visual range.

I went down the stairs, trying not to be discovered, and walked the way back to my room. My belly tickled anxiously and it was difficult for me regulate my breathing.

When I reached my window, the door that had given me that show was closed. I closed my eyes, and after trying to calm down for a few minutes, I decided to lock my own door and finish what I had started.

I sat on the sofa facing the window wishing the door would open so I could give a show as well. I removed all my clothes quickly, including the underwear, and began to touch my whole body imagining that hand that pleased his member.

At that time of day my whole family was on the first floor or outside in the congregation of hypocrites, so I did not bother to keep quiet, and after positioning myself with legs spread on the sofa, I began to touch my center and scream of pleasure in the process. I expected Jimmy to see me so he could feel the same pleasure he had caused me.

I achieved 2 orgasms before I felt I needed to take a breath for a few seconds.

I thought about the Johnson boy, his defiant look and self-sufficient smile. His image of pride was part of the game that was in his family, nothing more. The submissive boy who pleased Uncle Morgan without questioning, and whom had managed to be the favorite over others. The universal heir of the Morgan family.

But, more importantly, I had discovered that Jimmy Johnson harbored a beast inside him, one that was as savage as the passivity of his mask. And my inner demons liked the idea.