Beautiful Creamer

Try Boys

Try Boys – One

One – Rethinking the basics

Though with all his genetic gifts, he should have been having 365 good days each year. 366 in a leap year.

Rob was in the full flower of his virility. Thirty-five years old. Head-turningly handsome. Fit and buff.

A large, fat, highly rechargeable cock with huge balls that produced oceans of thick man's cream.

But sexually and romantically frustrated.

[Sigh]

He had 'known' several women since achieving puberty. But, though he had deposited hundreds of creamy loads within a great number of stunningly beautiful women, he found them to be uniformly self-centered, bossy, manipulative, pussy-stingy (when it suited their purposes), controlling and generally emasculating.

A sad realization for our hero.

Still, he never considered men as an alternative.

Rob never felt 'those urges.' And saw no signs that he would.

So there he was that Saturday. Alone. Reading the sports section. Trying to avoid the dumb 'sexual performance' ads that, these days, seemed to be next to the football accounts. Pictures of incredibly alluring women, suggesting that only a man who used the advertised product could ever 'fully satisfy' her or himself.

Baloney.

Rob was almost ready to abandon the newspaper, flip on the television and see what Scooby-Doo was doing at the old Spunkspill Manor. But then he saw it.

Another sports section ad.

Similar to the other, sexy ads. Yet markedly different.

It was a picture of two boys, photographed from mid-chest, just above the nipples up.

The boys were achingly beautiful. Even a committed-though-frustrated heterosexual like Rob could see that. He could also see that the boys were shirtless. Exposing their creamy shoulders.

Rob knew he should ignore the ad. It was some sicko's idea of a joke. Especially the ad copy.

"Tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation?" it asked. "Try boys."

Huh?

Try boys?????

That was nuts.

Who did that nutcase who placed the advertisement think he was?

Those boys looked like they were eleven years old. Twelve at most.

Wasn't it illegal to even show them like that?

And the looks they were giving the camera.

They looked so 3; needy.

Needy for a man.

A man like Rob.

Rob groaned. With unexpected lust. And disgust at himself for even thinking what he was beginning to think.

Being in bed with one of those boys.

Naked.

Being in bed with both of those boys.

Naked.

The boys looked as if they wanted that. To be in bed, naked, with a man. They looked as if they wanted that a lot.

Oh.

Poor Rob's cock was iron-hard.

But that was wrong. So wrong.

Wasn't it?

Exerting the full force of his will, Rob closed the newspaper, rolled it into a ball, and buried it in the trash bin.

Phew.

That was close.

Rob went to his couch and sought the familiar comfort of Scooby-Doo.

Pushed all that 'Try boys' stuff from his mind.

Mostly.

For about 15 minutes. At which point he frantically dug the newspaper out of the trash and found the 'Try boys' ad again.

Oh. Those boys were such angels.

What would it be like to make love to them?

How would he even go about that?

Whatever he did, Rob was sure that the boys would be sexually enthusiastic. And grateful. Plus Rob would know whether his efforts had produced an orgasm in his love partner.

All of which would be distinct advantages over the women he had dated.

Try boys, eh?

There was a web site. No phone number.

Dare he visit the site?

Would a battalion of vice cops break down his door five minutes after he logged on?

Rob thought about it. Realized that with the current state that his life was in, he had little to lose. Cranked up his computer and typed in the 'Try boys' site.

Wow.

Boys.

Pretty boys.

Gorgeous boys.

Photos of dozens of them. All fully clothed, except for the boys wearing modest bathing suits.

Candid shots of boys – young, beautiful boys – being boys.

No men.

No words. At least on the home page, except, 'Try boys.'

Inexplicably, the 'innocent' pictures had poor Rob's cock nearly bursting.

His upper lip was perspiring.

Dare he double-click on the 'next' button at the end of the page?

He dared.

Oh.

Men were on the second page. Good-looking, 30-something and 40-something men. Walking with boys. Talking with boys.

The looks they were giving each other! Admiring looks. Loving looks.

Poor Rob.

It was too much for his balls.

They exploded and his spewing cock drenched his pajama bottoms with thick, hot man's cream.

Rob was alone, but that didn't stop him from being humiliated.

He had just blown his testicles out looking at pictures of fully-clothed, twelve-year-old boys.

The horror!

That was it. No more of this nonsense.

He was going to shower off the cum, get dressed, call a woman, take her to lunch, then fuck her. Prove his heterosexuality once and for all. Settle things.

Right after he looked at the next page of the 'Try boys' website.

Rob actually trembled with anticipation as he watched a collage of pictures load onto his browser. What would he see?

More men and boys. Together. Everyone still fully clothed. But this was different.

The men were kissing the boys.

Kissing!

And even though they were all fully dressed, every man or boy in the pics was [gasp] sporting a stiffie. Tenting his pants.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life.

Beautiful boys submitting to the adoring kisses of sexually aroused, rampant, snorting men!

Rob cried out and, for the second time in 15 minutes, shot a devastating load of creamy sperm into his already-drenched pajama pants.

How mortifying!

How totally, achingly erotic!

When Rob's eyes managed to uncross, he took stock of his situation.

He had just had two debilitating orgasms from looking at pictures of pretty boys being seduced by men.

Which meant he was gay. At a minimum. And a pervert. For certain.

How did he feel about that?

Uncomfortable.

Disgusted at himself.

Horribly excited about the sexual prospects for his future.

Especially the prospect of what he was sure would be on the next page of the 'Try boys' website. Naked boys. Sucking the cocks of naked men. Maybe even naked men fucking naked boys.

He was sure of it.

And he was very wrong.

The next page, which was unfortunately the last page, had no pictures at all. Just links.

Which disappointed Rob tremendously. Though he was hopeful about the links.

Though they held no pictures either. Just links to something called 'gay adult-youth' stories.

Filthy drivel written by a number of hack authors, such as some guy with the ridiculous name of 'Beautiful Creamer.'

Rob knew it was time to put an end to all this and get back to his real life. Dull though it may be.

Back to the routine. That would do it.

Rob worked out seven days a week. Five days at a gym near his office. Weekends were for a three-mile [5 km] run ending in the park a block from his house.

A run would clear his head.

Rob cleaned himself up a bit, put on his exercise gear and took off on a run. A run away from the notion of making love to a boy.

Two – Trying men

Despite four straight, unsuccessful Saturday seductions, Skippy was about to embark on a fifth attempt.

Love makes people crazy.

And 12-year-old Skippy was in love. With a man whose name he didn't even know.

All he knew was that the man was gorgeous, he appeared in the neighborhood park sweaty and shirtless from a run at the same time every Saturday and he didn't even know that Skippy existed.

Which would have discouraged most pretty boys. But not Skippy.

In his daydreams, Skippy called the man, 'Tummy Drencher,' since every time Skippy thought about the man and touched himself, the boy drenched his tummy with hot sperm.

The man was that hunky!

Skippy didn't quite understand the art of flirting yet. And he certainly didn't understand men completely. Though he knew more than most.

Skippy knew that some men liked women and only women. Some, he knew, liked other men. Some liked girls. Young girls.

He also knew that a whole lot of men, maybe most men, liked boys.

And that most boys liked men.

Skippy liked men, though he hadn't been 'with' one yet.

He liked boys too. And boys liked him.

Skippy had been sucking his friends' cocks for at least a couple of years. And they sucked his cock too. He had sucked other boys' cocks too. The kind who loved having their cocks sucked but wouldn't suck a cock in return.

Mommy knew about Skippy's 'activities' and didn't seem to mind. Though it wouldn't matter if she did. Skippy was who he was,

Daddy knew too, but wouldn't admit anything about Skippy's 'interests' to himself or Mommy.

Skippy flirted with Daddy sometimes, but Daddy never seemed to react to it. Though Skippy saw Daddy's cock 'fill up' and twitch whenever Skippy was wiggling his bottom around Daddy.

Skippy would have loved it if Daddy would be his 'first man.' Though that didn't seem to be imminent.

Skippy was pretty sure that sooner or later, 'Skippy and Daddy' were inevitable.

That's how sure Skippy was of his beauty and appeal. And he was probably right.

But if he was so beautiful and appealing, how was 'Tummy Drencher' able to ignore Skippy for so long?

[Sigh]

That Saturday morning, Skippy resolved to make an extra effort to flirt with Tummy Drencher. If the man had one or more palpitating testicles, Skippy would figure out a way to empty them for him.

The boy checked himself out in the mirror. Tiny, tight short pants. A very brief t-shirt that showed a hint of his boyish navel. Sandals that exposed his lovely feet. A baseball hat, glove and baseball.

Pretty face, with beautiful eyes and impossibly long lashes. Rosebud, highly kissable mouth.

Pronouncing himself scrumptious, the boy left for the park.

Three – Man tries Boy

Little did the boy know that the object of his desire was having an 'unusual' morning that had set him back 45 minutes and two guilt-ridden orgasms.

Rob made up a bit of that time by pushing himself extra hard on his run. Punishing himself for his gayness.

So he was 40 minutes behind schedule and quite exhausted when he hauled himself to his usual park bench for his usual cool-down.

On previous Saturdays, Rob had enjoyed the looks he got from the teenaged girls who always seemed to be around his bench. Pretty girls. Jailbait girls. Who flirted with him. And he noticed. But didn't flirt back.

That morning, though the thought of a shirtless 'Runner Man' (as the barely pubescent little femmes called him) was enough to make their little pussies soppy, the girls had not waited for Rob.

Rob sat, his chest heaving. Sweat covering his muscled torso. He noticed vaguely that there were few girls around. He had bigger notions on his mind. Like this crazy 'Try boys' thing.

Crazy.

Trying boys.

Ha.

But just then, Rob saw a baseball bounce past his bench. And a boy chasing the ball. Catching up with it. Bending over to pick it up. Plump, round, short-shorts-covered bottom pointing at Rob.

And, despite the exact same situation occurring each of the past four Saturdays, that time, finally, Rob noticed.

He straightened his back a bit and watched as the boy stood straight, then turned around. Looking at Rob.

Smiling at Rob, when he saw that Rob had finally made eye contact with him.

Involuntarily, Rob smiled back.

Danger alarm bells clanged in Rob's brain.

The boy was clearly underage. By maybe six years!

And he was a boy!

It was gay to smile at boys.

And imagine that they're sucking your cock. Which was the image forming in Rob's troubled mind.

The boy was intensely cute. And heart-breakingly beautiful.

Where had he been all of Rob's life?

Apparently right there, waiting for Rob's brain to reboot.

Skippy was new at this, but he knew he had to take a bit of the initiative.

"Hi," he said, to Tummy Drencher.

Rob was startled. He felt a mating ritual beginning and he didn't want it to. Not with a 12-year-old, magnificently gorgeous boy. So he did the only thing possible. He said, "Hi. My name's Rob. What's yours?"

So much for discretion.

Skippy's little sissyboy heart fluttered. If he played his cards right, he figured this man's cock would be in his boyish bum within two hours. And Skippy was holding all the aces.

"My name's Skippy. My friend Tommy went home and I don't have anyone to play catch with. Will you play with me?"

The thought of 'playing' with this angel's private parts had poor Rob gasping. But he took a deep breath and said, "Sure, Skippy. I don't have a glove, so take it easy on me, OK?"

Skippy smiled with satisfaction and his three-inch [7½ cm] penis gained its full height. He ran about ten yards away and then 'burned' in a pitch that stung Rob's hands.

Just because you're a sissyboy doesn't mean you can't throw a fastball.

Rob chuckled at Skippy's aggressive throw, then threw a hard pitch back. Skippy caught it easily in his glove and burned another back.

At that rate, Rob would be going to the emergency room with two broken hands. So he proposed an alternative. "Do you like ice cream, Skippy? Maybe I could buy you an ice cream and you won't kill me with the baseball."

That was the Rubicon. A catch can be innocent, but a proposed trip for nourishment signals clear intent (See North American Mating Rituals, 4th edition, by Creamer, pp 126-134).

Skippy hadn't read that particular field manual, but he knew what the ice cream thing meant. He agreed eagerly, then said, "I have to tell my Mom that I won't be home for lunch. Do you have a cell phone?"

Clearly Rob didn't, since he was dressed for a run. So Skippy proceeded with, "If you live nearby, I could call Mom from your place, Rob. You could clean up and change too, if you wanted."

Game, set and match to Skippy.

Rob agreed, dazzled by the possibilities of having the young beauty in his apartment. Just the two of them. And their stiff penises. Which neither of them was capable of hiding from the other's lustful gaze.

Rob and Skippy walked the block to Rob's apartment, talking about Skippy's school and baseball team and friends. But Rob wasn't really listening. He was thinking, "Are people watching us? Calling the police? Writing down our descriptions?" And most importantly, "What will I do with this boy? What will he let me do?" and, "Can I really go through with this?"

Poor Rob's heart rate was higher than it had been on his run when he opened his apartment door and ushered Skippy in.

Skippy was trembling too. He hoped Rob wasn't an axe murderer or anything. Though it might be worth it if Rob was a really, really good fuck.

Nervously, Rob said, "Get yourself a soda from the fridge, Skippy, while I shower. Make yourself comfortable."

Skippy smiled at Rob so brilliantly that Rob almost creamed his pants.

Then Rob scooted off to the shower to get the sweaty stink off. In preparation for creating a much better stink.

Rob half-expected Skippy to join him in the shower and was mildly disappointed when he didn't. Though he was still pretty sure where his cock would be within the hour.

At the moment, poor, agitated Rob's cock was iron-hard and flat against his hairy tummy – the drooling knob was leaking into his belly button.

Rob ached to cum, but knew he should wait and deposit that load somewhere more appropriate than the drain of his shower.

Skippy was pretty sure about Rob's imminent penile relocation too, so he didn't want his first fuck to be a 'join-me-in-the-shower-and-bend-over' cliché.

Instead, he used the five minutes of alone time to snoop around Rob's apartment.

No girlfriend pictures. No boyfriend pictures either. Just one of an older couple who must have been Rob's Mom and Dad. Hmmm. Rob's Daddy was kind of 'mature hunky,' Skippy thought.

So, Skippy thought, Rob's looking for love. Thus far in all the wrong places. Then Skippy saw the crumpled-up newspaper ad for 'Try Boys.'

Hmmmm.

So that was why Rob finally decided to look at Skippy that particular day. The power of suggestive suggestion.

Men are so shallow, Skippy thought. Then he added a 'thank goodness' to all that.

Skippy heard the shower turning off, so he sat on Rob's couch, removed his sandals, put his pretty feet onto Rob's coffee table, pointing his pink toes, and waited.

Not for long.

Rob dried himself off, brushed his hair, but didn't dry it, slid on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a t-shirt and deck shoes and hustled into the living room to reassure himself that Skippy was still there. And wasn't accompanied by several members of the local police force – whose guns were drawn at Rob.

Just Skippy. Sitting there. On the couch. Looking sweet and innocent. And fucking gorgeous. With the prettiest, pinkest, bare toes and feet Rob had ever seen.

Rob groaned softly and prayed Skippy hadn't heard him do that.

Skippy had heard the groan and loved it. It was a huge ego burst to know that one's beauty drives men wild.

And Rob was only a step or two from 'wild.'

Rob opened his mouth and, after a brief interlude, words formed. "Say, uh, Skippy. About that ice cream. Maybe we could get that later."

Skippy smiled. And moved over to make room for Rob on the couch.

Rob gulped. Drew in a breath. Decide it was time to 'man up.' Take charge.

Rob sat next to Skippy on the couch and looked at his beautiful face – smiling at him so innocently.

Could he really 'violate' that perfect, little, innocent angel?

Just try and stop him.

Skippy knew that his time had come. He had had his playtime with other boys. Now was the time for him to be loved by a man.

Rob's time had come too. He had tried women and been disappointed. Bitterly disappointed. Now it was time to try boys.

Rob surrounded the boy with his arms and, for the first time in his life, kissed a boy. On the lips.

Oh.

That was nice.

Skippy's kissback was just tentative enough to maintain the illusion of 'innocent, but ready for change he could believe in.' The boy's lips seemed to get hotter and more supple as Rob and Skippy adored each other's mouths.

When tongues entered the picture, Skippy acted unschooled at first. Then showed himself to be a quick study. Sucking Rob's tongue as it licked Skippy's tonsils.

Rob had never been so excited in his life. Or as terrified. He was positive that an anti-gay, anti-man-boy-love SWAT team was going to break down his door at any moment.

The only breakdown, though, was in Rob's inhibitions.

As the man and the boy heated each other up, Rob managed to remove both their shirts.

Skippy's bare torso was delicious. Pink and delicate. With big nipples aching to be sucked by an adoring man.

Rob's bare torso was delicious too. With rippling muscles that would overpower Skippy and make him submit to the complete satisfaction of every one of Rob's numerous, limitless, and totally disgusting needs.

Yummo!

Rob drew Skippy to his lap and worshiped the boy's nipples with his tongue and mouth. Groaning with pleasure as the boy squeaked and squealed out his love for what Rob was doing to him. Skippy ran his delicate hands all over Rob's bare shoulder flesh as the man sucked on Skippy's tender, right nipple.

None of his boyish lovers had done anything like that, and it had poor Skippy in a major dither.

The boy soon felt stirrings in his peeny. THOSE stirrings. He would be filling his shorts soon if Rob didn't stop licking his nipples that way. Rob needed to know that, so Skippy tried to squeak out a warning, but he just couldn't.

Suddenly, Skippy's pants were down. Rob had eased him off his manly lap into a standing position, facing Rob, who then lowered Skippy's shorts and skimpy boypanties all the way down to his pretty ankles. Skippy's little cock was breathing free air.

Then it wasn't.

The randy man had been able to decipher all the warning squeaks and, taking the greatest risk of his life, erotic or otherwise, Rob consumed Skippy's aching, near-orgasmic cock with his mouth. Sucking it frantically and inexpertly until Skippy cried out and pumped six thick, creamy globs of boy's cream into his bold lover's hungry mouth.

Rob was mortified and terrified at what he was doing. Swallowing a naked, 12-year-old boy's big, creamy load. Sucking the boy's tiny cock to a screaming orgasm.

It was immoral.

It was illegal.

Worst of all, it was gay!

It was also the most exciting moment of Rob's life.

No woman had ever excited Rob half as much.

No woman had ever appreciated Rob's voracious lovemaking half as much.

No woman had ever been so eager to reciprocate as Skippy seemed to be. The boy was on his knees, naked as the day he was born, pulling at Rob's waistband in a frantic effort to get at the man's cock.

Rob lifted his bottom off the couch and allowed his beautiful lover to 'de-pants' him.

Skippy actually gasped when he saw Rob's cock for the first time.

No woman had ever done that either.

'Trying boys' was working out for Rob so far.

Trying men was good for Skippy too. The boy's mouth actually watered when he saw the stiff instrument that he was sure would soon rid him of his useless, anal virginity.

It was a magnificent cock.

Tall and proud, with a thick hood of skin and prominent, blue vein that went all the way to the tip. Massive, heavy testicles enclosed by a hairy bag that Skippy ached to kiss and bathe with his wet little tongue.

Skippy just had to see the head, so he put his angelic, right hand on Rob's 'boypleaser' and skinned the tip, exposing all of the fat, drooling, almost purple head.

Skippy moaned at the sight.

Rob heard that and almost spurted right then.

Needless to say (but let's note it anyway), no woman would have moaned like that upon first viewing Rob's cockhead.

Rob knew what was next. A beautiful boy, kneeling at his feet – on his KNEES, for goodness sake – was about to suck Rob's cock.

Rob shuddered with lust. And prayed that his spermies would not 'leave home' early. This was going to be something to savor.

There were definitely some close calls. Like when Skippy gave Rob's hairy balls a good, eight-minute, tongue bath.

That was sweet agony.

How Rob ever managed to 'hold things together' during that delicious torture should be analyzed and recorded for posterity.

As should Rob's restraint when the young beauty kissed and licked Rob's pole as he skinned the cockhead. Making Rob actually begin to sweat, but only on his upper lip.

Twelve minutes into the splendid anguish of Rob's first 'boyjob,' Skippy began to pleasure Rob's cockhead with his tongue and mouth.

Licking all around the tingling flesh. Lapping up the sweet, drip juices as he stirred Rob's balls with a free hand.

By the time Skippy had consumed the entire, pulsing knob with his wet, warm mouth, Rob was half-mad with lust.

Skippy went for the knockout punch. Stepping up the intensity of his tongue on the 'arrow-point' as he locked eyes with Rob and telepathed him a message of raw lust.

That did it.

Slam, bam, young man.

Rob cried out – manfully, let the record show – and deluged the boy with more sperm and semen than a man should ever spurt. Rob drew on his emergency sperm reserves or something to engender seven thick, globs of 'crème de sperm' soup.

Skippy gagged.

Having previously only sucked off boys, Skippy was unprepared for both the volume and thickness of the 'sissyboy's big reward' that Rob generously donated to his 'education fund.'

Still, Skippy soldiered on. Swallowing what he could and drooling the rest all over his neck and chest. All the way to his extra-large, erect nipples.

Rob 'suffered' through the best orgasm of his life. The one by which all others would be measured. The one he would think about in his cell at night if Skippy was a boy who 'kissed and told.'

Somehow, Rob didn't think so.

It wouldn't have mattered at that point anyway. Rob's decision-making functions had migrated from his big head to his little head. And the little head said, "Re-grow that woodie and fuck this little doll."

Rob had the boy stand and drew him back to his lap. Kissing his cum-soaked face. And neck. And chest. And nipples.

Oh.

Rob picked Skippy up and effortlessly carried him to his bedroom. Placed Skippy on his back – on the bed.

Rob looked at the new love of his life and for a moment, rationality almost took over. "I don't even know this kid's last name. Or his real first name. And I'm about to stick my cock into his bottom. Am I crazy?"

The answer was surely affirmative, Rational Rob thought. But then Lustmeister Rob took over all command functions and the games resumed.

Rob thought for a moment about telling Skippy how beautiful he was, but decided that was a waste of time. He could tell him that as he fucked him. And make no mistake. He was going to fuck Skippy that day. Twice if hen had the time.

The little cutie was ready for it all right. He was wriggling and holding his arms out for Rob to cover him with his manly body.

Not yet. Rob reviewed what he knew about assfucking. Lubricate, dilate, penetrate. That was it. He had only gotten as far as dilate with the women he had known. Most didn't even want lubricate. Some silliness about not wanting a good assfucking. [Sigh] There was a certain logic to it, though. Women didn't have a prostate.

Rob needed a bit of time before he got to all that. He was still limp-cocked. Wasn't 18 anymore. Skippy was stiff and drippy.

There was something he had wanted to do since he first considered 'trying' Skippy. So he did it.

Rob sat on the bed, near Skippy's feet and began to massage the boy's tootsies.

Skippy was a bit puzzled by that, but it felt nice. Not as nice as the fucking that he knew was imminent. But nice.

Skippy was really surprised when Rob drew Skippy's right foot to his manly mouth, then began to kiss each toe, gently and lovingly.

Ooohhh.

That was nice. And got nicer when Rob sucked his little toe. Mmmmmm. So loving. So adoring.

Rob proceeded to kiss, lick and suck every toe on Skippy's right foot. Taking his time. Then the left foot.

Skippy tried to hold back his creamies. He really did. But it was just so sexy. A man 'worshipping' him like that. So as Rob sucked the middle toe of Skippy's left foot, the boy squealed and spurted. Which pleased Rob very much. Though not as much as it pleased Skippy.

It was a VERY nice orgasm. Inspired by some very dirty, very unconventional, very imaginative lovemaking. Skippy was very lucky that Rob was his first man.

Rob was feeling pretty lucky too as he finished off Skippy's toes and flipped him onto his stomach. Spreading that cum all over his bedspread. Oh well.

Rob pulled a chair over to the bed and sat.

"Huh?" formed in Skippy's lust-filled brain. Followed by "Unnnhhhhhh!!!!"

The man had spread Skippy's bottomcheeks apart with his thumbs and was licking Skippy's bottomhole!!

Skippy screamed, which seemed to egg Rob into deeper excavation.

It was all very logical.

Rob had no suitable lube in the house, so he used his tongue. Well. Very well, if we were to ask Skippy.

Rob had always loved eating pussy, but this was way better. Tastier. Dirtier. And more appreciated by the recipient.

No one had ever even licked Skippy's 'private place' before. Some of his 'boyfriends' had entered it with their fingers, as boys do. But he had never dreamed of this – nor imagined how good it would feel.

It was incredible!

The man was licking out the place where Skippy made poop! For Skippy's pleasure. That was an incredible, selfless act as far was Skippy was concerned.

Another good reason to 'give himself' to this loving man.

Who was also enjoying himself.

He loved all of Skippy's loving squeaks and squeals. It was great to be appreciated by one's sex partner, wasn't it?

And the appreciation was flowing right to his Johnson, which had refound its manly vigor.

After 12 delicious minutes of analingus, Rob moved to Phase Two – Dilation.

He joined Skippy on the bed, lying on his side next to the boy, enduring the storm of grateful, lustful kisses the boy hurled at him.

All the while finding Skippy's sopping anus with the middle finger of his right hand, then entering him.

Skippy grunted softly when Rob entered him, then resumed kissing his lover. Until Rob found the boy's prostate. And rubbed it for the first time in the boy's life.

Skippy's beautiful eyes widened. Then filled with adoring tears as Rob's second finger joined the prostate party.

Skippy saw the birth of the Universe as Rob massaged his prostate. Witnessed the Big Bang. Felt it. A new world for him. The one he wanted to live in forever.

Skippy heaved and shuddered through his first prostate orgasm. Only able to produce three watery drops of boy's cream. But hurtled through the galaxy, through new stars and old.

Knowing that the time to penetrate Skippy would never be better, Rob managed to get a limp Skippy onto all fours. He knelt behind Skippy, spat on his hand and lubricated his cock with his own saliva.

Lined up his peehole with his sweet prize. Sighed. Pushed the head and two inches [5 cm] into the hottest, tightest place his cock had ever been.

Listened to Skippy scream with the pains of sweet lust realized at last.

Checked Skippy's vitals. Waited for the screams to evolve to whimpers. Then shoved in the rest.

More screaming.

Gee, Rob thought, I'm glad I'm giving, not taking.

At one point in this, his first fucking, Skippy considered going straight. Burning his Streisand CDs. Trashing his Judy Garland posters. Joining the Republican Party.

Ass fucking hurt!!!

But then it didn't. And the man knew it. He picked up a rhythm. Each stroke rubbing against Skippy's tender prostate.

Oh.

That was good.

Then it was great.

He was being fucked. By his dream man. Whose life changed when he saw a newspaper ad to 'Try boys.'

Who said the newspaper business is dead?

Try Boys – Two

One – Another man ready to 'reboot'

As many thirtysomething men were, he was frustrated in love and beginning to despair that he would ever make a real 'match.'

Clint liked women. Pretty women. And women should have liked him. He was fit and buff. Quite handsome and quite adequate in the penile department.

So why had he struck out with women?

Two big reasons and lots of smaller ones. First, and most importantly, he was far from rich. And had few prospects to change that situation. Clint was a junior-high-school English teacher. And quite dedicated to the education of 11 to 14-year-old minds and their future success. So he was pretty much guaranteed a low-paying job for life.

Second, Clint was a nice guy. A really nice guy who treated women with respect. Which, combined with his low income, made desirable women think he was a chump.

It's inaccurate to say that Clint had sworn off women but, unlike Kermit the Frog, he wasn't really hoping that 'something better' would come along. Mainly because Clint never imagined that there was an alternative.

Until he saw that advertisement in the sports section of his newspaper that life-changing morning.

It was a picture of two boys, photographed from mid-chest, just above the nipples up.

The boys were achingly beautiful. Even a committed-though-frustrated heterosexual like Clint could see that. He could also see that the boys were shirtless. Exposing their creamy shoulders.

The ad copy stabbed Clint's brain.

"Tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation?" it asked. "Try boys."

Huh?

Try boys?????

That was crazy.

Those boys looked like they were eleven years old. Twelve at most.

Wasn't it illegal to even show them like that?

And the looks they were giving the camera.

They looked so 3;needy.

Needy for a man.

A man like Clint.

Clint was disgusted at himself for even thinking what he was beginning to think.

Something that he as a junior-high teacher could never think.

Touching one of those beautiful boys. One of his own students even.

Many of his boy students, had his brain allowed him to think of it, were in fact beautiful.

But he was their mentor. Entrusted with their chastity.

He couldn't think of those boys, or any other boys in 'that way.'

Could he?

Clint looked at the ad again. There was a web site. No phone number.

Against every instinct except the all-powerful urges between his legs, Clint fired up his computer and typed in the 'Try boys' site.

Wow.

Boys.

Pretty boys.

Gorgeous boys.

Photos of dozens of them. All fully clothed, except for the boys wearing modest bathing suits.

Candid shots of boys – young, beautiful boys – being boys.

No men.

No words. At least on the home page, except, 'Try boys.'

Clint went to the next page. Men were on the second page. Good-looking, 30-something and 40-something men. Walking with boys. Talking with boys.

The looks they were giving each other! Admiring looks. Loving looks.

Clint was trembling as he moved to the third page and saw more men and boys. Together. Everyone still fully clothed. But this was different.

The men were kissing the boys.

Kissing!

And even though they were all fully dressed, every man or boy in the pics was [gasp] sporting a stiffie. Tenting his pants.

Beautiful boys submitting to the adoring kisses of sexually aroused, rampant, snorting men!

Oh no!

It was disgusting and demeaning and where was the button to the next page, where Clint was sure he would see the men and boys naked?

Where was it????

There was no such button!

That was it.

Clint's face was flushed and his brain steamed with wild conjecture.

Clint didn't know what to do. His cock was outrageously and immorally stiff.

He would have to calm down and get this 'filth' out of his brain. The school year was starting in two days and if he went back with a 'Try boys' attitude, it would man ruin!

He would be 'checking out' all of his male students. Thinking crazy thoughts. Maybe even [gasp] touching one of the boys in his care!

Shame!

Guilt!

Incarceration!

Clint ached to empty his balls at that moment, but that would just make things worse.

Wouldn't it?

Clint closed down his computer, grabbed his car keys and drove to the grocery store. To cool off. Think of something else. Get his mind off boys. Look at the women in the store. Lots of them.

There. Good. Pretty women in summer dresses.

Clint settled down a bit.

Until he saw Devin Sphincter.

His 12-year-old, former sixth-grade student and future seventh-grade student.

Who smiled sweetly and greeted Clint with a "Hi, Mr. Mountboy! Did you enjoy your summer?"

Oh dear.

Crisis time already for Clint. Two hours ago, Clint could have responded with asexual politeness.

But now!

Devin was every bit as pretty as those boys in that evil ad and filthy web site.

The boy was smiling at Clint. And he was real – not a picture.

Clint's manmeat betrayed him. It stiffened and tented his trousers.

Devin noticed. The boy was surprised that Mr. Mountboy was looking at him 'in that way,' though the boy had been hoping against hope that his teacher would do just that someday. It appeared that the day had arrived.

Against most of Clint's instincts, the man wanted the boy and the boy knew it.

That changed everything.

Clint wanted to streak out of the store and get home, lock the door and jump into an icy shower.

And he wanted to grab up Devin, take him to a sleazy hotel, strip the boy naked and kiss him all over.

To this day, Clint can't remember how he disengaged from that conversation. Somehow he managed to take his purchases to the checkout. He would pay for his things, go home and that would be that.

But no.

There, in the checkout line, was an item he had never noticed before, but had been a mainstay of the store (and big money-maker) for six years.

It was the latest issue of Sissy Boy magazine.

Clint's eyes burned into the cover, which proclaimed that it was the special, annual 'frosted faces' issue. Then punctuated that claim with a picture that buckled Clint's knees.

An outrageously beautiful and totally naked young boy (12-years-old tops) was on his knees facing the camera. The boy's gorgeous face was framed with a hundred soft, blond curls and drenched with what could only be the sperm and semen of a well-testicled man. Cum was drooling from the boy's kissable chin and had migrated to his chest and erotically erect nipples!!

The boy was smiling joyfully. He loved having his face 'frosted' by a man! If the smile didn't prove that, his ultra-stiff three-inch [7½ cm] pricket affirmed his love of man's cream.

The boy's arms were bent forward and his wrists were sissily limp.

Clint almost creamed his pants right there in the checkout line.

Clint's cheeks were flaming with shame and there was no way he should have bought that magazine – right out in public like that. Worse, since it was a 'special issue,' it cost an outrageous $49.95! But he HAD to have it! So he bought the magazine, hustled his purchases to the car and sped home.

Somehow he managed to put the groceries away before attending to his 'needs.'

But then he could wait no longer.

Clint stripped naked, found his bottle of babyoil gel, set out a worn t-shirt for 'mopping-up' operations, and began.

Trying not to cum too quickly, Clint applied the slick oil to his large, red-hot cock and fat, hairy balls.

When he had applied a sufficient layer of lube, Clint took a deep breath and opened the Sissy Boy magazine.

"100 pages of cream-faced boys" it promised. And delivered.

Beautiful boys. All, as the promise stated on page three, between the ages of 11 and 14.

Boys in various poses, but all sopping wet with man's cream.

Oh, Clint thought, to be one of those men.

On page six, with 94 pages as yet unexplored, Clint lost his first creamy load of the day.

It was a boy on all fours, looking back at the camera with a smiling, cream-covered face. Exposing his perfect bottomhole, which, thrillingly, had clearly been freshly-fucked. It was open and drooling every bit as much sperm as the boy had on his face.

The boy was so sweet and cute and sexy. And he was looking at Clint as if he wanted Clint to be 'next' and that did it for our hero.

The man spunked all over his stomach in an agony of guilt and fear and wild ecstasy.

That boy, that beautiful boy, wanted to 'give himself' completely to his man. He was eager to satisfy his man's carnal needs, asking nothing in return.

That was what was so fatally arousing to Clint.

Probably because it was what he had always wanted, but never gotten from a woman.

The women Clint had known had never 'surrendered' to Clint completely the way the boys in those pictures did. They loved when Clint ate their pussies – sometimes for hours – and would cum their girlish guts out. But when Clint wanted them to reciprocate by sucking his cock and swallowing his cum – or even better, letting Clint 'frost their faces,' they went all 'icky bad' on him. He was lucky if he got a 'missionary fuck' out of them. The enthusiasm wasn't there. Nor was the sense of sexual giving that men crave.

The boys in Sissy Boy, at least in Clint's hasty assessment, were willing to do whatever a nice man wanted them to do. They were willing to 'emasculate' themselves – letting a man 'have his way' with them. Which was what Clint felt was the love he was missing.

Or maybe he was reading too much into that 'Try boys' Website and a few smutty pictures.

Clint decided to see what the other 94 pages were all about.

Each page was a glorious, new delight. Boy after beautiful boy taking the full measure of his man's love and love cream.

On page 24, two angels sixty-nined each other to twin facials.

On page 32, a man spunked a boy's face just as the boy was helplessly ejaculating all over his own flat tummy. Filling his boyish belly button and creating 'Lake Semen,' which was a 'man-made' lake in its truest form.

Clint emptied his testicles 'reading' that page, crying out so loudly that he was afraid the neighbors had heard him.

As we know, there is a brief moment after an orgasm in which men stop thinking about sex for some microseconds. The only recorded such time.

Clint used that unusual 'gap' to motivate himself to clean up and try to stop the maelstrom of new ideas that were consuming him.

He quickly got into his bathing suit, slid on a t-shirt and flip-flops, and headed for his local swimming pool.

His plan – swim laps. Clear his head. Change his attitude. Stuff the toothpaste back into the tube.

No problem.

Right?

Two – Perhaps a problem

Clint shucked his t-shirt, dove into the chilly water and for 15 asexual minutes enjoyed the endorphins of exercise. Free of the world's naughty concerns. At last.

The whistle blew to resume 'general swim' and Clint went to his lounge chair. Dried himself off. Put on his sunglasses. Settled in to read a good mystery story. Until 3;

"Hi, Mr. Mountboy! Wow. Twice in one day!"

Oh no!!!!!!

It was Devin again! Devin Sphincter.

The cutest boy Clint had ever taught.

But that wasn't all.

He was with the second cutest boy Clint had ever taught – Mason Goobum! And they were both wearing [gasp] bathing suits!

Not just bathing suits. Super-skimpy-show-the-whole-package bathing suits!

Clint had come to the pool to make things 'better,' but they seemed to be getting 'worse.'

If two beautiful, half-naked, smiling, flirty boys could be considered 'worse.'

Clint cleared his throat. Carefully moved his towel to cover his lap. Then said, "Hello again, Devin. Hello, Mason. Beautiful day isn't it?"

Clint winced internally at his lack of 'smooth.' If he acted like such a klutz, he thought, he would never have to worry about losing his 'boy chastity.'

Devin and Mason didn't seem to mind their once-and-future teacher's klutziness. They each gave him a dazzling smile. Mason said, "We were watching you swim, Mr. Mountboy. You're really good."

Clint blushed at the compliment from someone whose bathing suit he would clearly want to remove. And there were 'stirrings' under his lap-located towel.

Devin chimed in with, "Were you a swimmer in high school, Mr. Mountboy? You're so strong and manly."

Oh.

Poor Clint was fully and shamefully erect.

What to do?

He couldn't get up. He couldn't think of anything to say except, "Thank you, boys" followed by an inane, "Are you looking forward to school starting the day after tomorrow?"

Every adult knows the answer to that is always a resounding "NO!!"

But Devin said, "Oh, yes, Mr. Mountboy. We miss our friends and our teachers. Especially you."

Oh.

Ashamed at the praise and baffled by the strange events of the day, Clint broke eye contact and, as he formulated a response, looked down. And saw the boy's brief bathing suits.

Tented by their stiff penises.

Unashamedly so.

The boys conversed as if there were nothing going on 'down there.' Yet, their contact with Clint had aroused them.

Which was flattering and terrifying. In equal measure.

Clint noted that for young boys, they had ample packages. Which excited Clint even more – despite himself.

Clint opened his mouth to say something else, but Mason said, "We have to go. We'll see you in school on Monday, Mr. Mountboy."

Then Devin made Clint's cock twitch when he said, "If not before."

And they were gone.

What did that mean – If not before?

It took Clint a good 15 minutes for his cock to subside. Then he decided to cut his losses and go home.

The exit from the pool to the parking lot goes through the men's shower room. As Clint approached it, he heard water running and boyish giggling.

Oh no.

Devin and Mason were taking a shower. Sharing a fixture. And they were naked!

Clint only allowed himself a quick glance. But the captured image was burned into his brain.

Two naked dolls rubbing soap on each other and giggling girlishly. A flash of Devin's penis – five red, erect inches [12½ cm] accessorized beautifully by a lovely pink bag. Mason's plump, pink bottomcheeks.

Clint stepped up his pace and stormed past the boys, hoping they hadn't even seen him.

They had.

The 'little show' was for his benefit. Though Mason and Devin always liked being naked around each other.

Three – A moist Saturday night and a moister Sunday

Was the universe conspiring to turn him into a boy lover?

If so, why him?

If not, was this all just really what happens when repressed feelings and desire begin to be unrepressed?

Clint made himself a nice dinner – fish, baked potato, broccoli. Turned on a football exhibition game. Tried to think of something other than sitting naked with a naked Mason on his left knee and a naked Devin on his right knee. Kissing them. Feeling their stiff peenies.

Couldn't think of much else.

So he stripped naked and got into bed with his babyoil gel, old t-shirt and Sissy Boy.

Page 33.

A kneeling boy in a speedo bathing suit, pulled down to mid-thigh. Receiving a man-sized facial from a large-cocked man as he wanks himself to a spurting explosion. The spray pattern went all the way to the boy's hairline, with a good blob covering his eyes. One large glob seemed to have gone up the boy's nose. Yet, he didn't flinch. Seemed to enjoy it all immensely.

As he exploded his man's cream in thick arcs, Clint wondered, "Why would anyone want a woman when he could have a boy like that? Or a boy like Devin or Mason?"

Good questions.

Clint barely survived the evening, cumming three more times between pages 34 and 72.

He fell asleep, exhausted, at around eleven and awoke on Sunday at eight. Full of resolve to put all the 'boy silliness' behind him.

He got himself together, made coffee, and went out to get the newspaper at his favorite stand. Reading the newspaper would be a good distraction. And it would have been, had not the newsstand's proprietor been putting out the new shipment of magazines. Including the new issue of Sissy Boy.

Once again, it seemed to be Universe vs. Clint Mountboy. A dog-eat-dog tussle and Clint was wearing Milkbone underwear.

Clint wasn't buying that new Sissy Boy. He hadn't even 'read' all the other one yet. But then he saw the title of the lead story: Andy's Anal Adventures.

Anal.

New stuff. Different from the frosted faces. Instructive in a new area. Plus, as a 'non-special' issue, the cover price was only (only!) $29.95.

Maybe it was worth it. To see what he shouldn't be doing to/with his students when school started the next day.

So he bought two Sunday newspapers and Andy's Anal Adventures.

The newspapers were never opened.

Sissy Boy was VERY well read. In bed. t-shirt and gel in hand.

An excruciatingly delicious 12-year-old boy named Andy left school one day, then met his teacher at a local motel. Where he and the teacher shared many anal adventures. Five thorough fuckings by Clint's count, though his eyes were a bit blurry at the end. Andy then went home, had dinner with his family, then dressed for bed, where he was joined by his naked Daddy, who gave him five more 'adventures' in anal antics.

Unbelievable! Preposterous!

But fatally exciting to an exhausted Clint, who had cum three times in two hours.

Prior to that literature review, Clint didn't think it possible that a cock his size could ever penetrate a boy's anus.

It was well worth $29.95. plus tax, to discover that he was very wrong. Andy took cocks as big or bigger than Clint's and accommodated them with ease. Gratefully. Lovingly.

It was clear that Andy LOVED being fucked. By his own father! And even more thrillingly to Clint – by his teacher.

Would Mason and/or Devin 3;?

Clint needed to think about that. He cleaned up as well as he could, though he was unable to clear the house of the smell of freshly spilled man's cream. Took a shower. Changed the cummy sheets.

Maybe if he could just take a walk. It was almost noon. Lunch, then a walk. That's it.

The doorbell rang.

He wasn't expecting anyone.

It rang again.

Clint opened the door and saw 3; Devin!

In his bathing suit. Carrying a towel.

A knife of terror stabbed Clint's heart.

What did Devin want?

Even Clint knew the answer to that one.

But what Devin said was. "Hi. Mr. Mountboy. This being the last day of vacation and all, I thought I would go to the pool. I was walking by your house and wondered if you wanted to go with me."

Innocent enough.

Against his better judgment, Clint said, "I wasn't planning on it, but you're right. It's a beautiful day. I'll just get into my suit."

And then Clint added, fatefully, "You can come in and wait, if you want."

Devin smiled and walked into Clint's house.

"What have I done?" Clint asked himself. "This boy, this beautiful, ultra-randy boy is in my house."

But he couldn't really say, "On second thought, step outside and wait," now could he?

That would be rude.

He would get dressed quickly and walk to the pool with Devin and that would be that.

Clint noticed that Devin was sniffing the air. Smelling the fresh cum.

Was Devin completely 'onto' Clint? And everything Clint had been thinking and feeling?

To distract the boy, Clint said, "There's soda in the fridge. I'll just be a minute."

Devin gave him a smile that would melt glass. But he didn't move toward the fridge. For that soda.

Instead, the boy tossed his towel aside and walked toward Clint's bedroom.

Clint gulped. And followed Devin.

Clint arrived at his bedroom door to see Devin standing at the foot of Clint's bed. Looking back over his shoulder at Clint. As he eased down his bathing suit. To reveal the roundest, plumpest, most beautiful boy ass in the galaxy.

Way better than Andy's. And Mason's.

And it seemed to be all for Clint. To possess. And love. And deposit his cock and sperm into.

In a near-trance of lust, Clint stripped naked, stepped behind Devin and began to kiss the boy's soft, creamy neck and shoulders.

Devin gasped.

Clint LOVED that!!

Clint ran his hands all along Devin's arms, shoulders and sides, then all over his boyish, hairless chest and even [pant] nipples.

The boy squirmed with hot lust. And turned to face Clint.

Still standing, the lovers kissed ravenously. Tonguing deeply as they held each other in their arms.

Then, driven by scorching desire, they rubbed cocks as they kissed.

Ohhhh!

Clint knew that he hadn't been the seductor in this sweet drama. He knew that Devin was the seductress who had made Clint's loins burn. Clint also knew that at that moment, control had shifted from Devin to him.

Devin had surrendered his body, his love and whatever remained of his virtue to his man.

Which made Clint wonder why anyone would prefer women to boys.

Good question.

Clint clutched Devin's bottomcheeks in his strong hands and rubbed against Devin hard – stiff, needy privates to stiff, needy privates.

Devin squeaked and grunted. Clearly having a good time.

Then the sweet boy squealed loudly and began to spurt his cream – in thick globs.

Clint was in love!!

And needed to cum very badly.

A fact that was not lost on Devin.

In a selfless act to please his man, Devin fell to his knees. Looking up at Clint, with full eye contact, the boy began to kiss his teacher's hard cock. With occasional pauses to lick Clint's hairy ballsack.

Clint was in heaven.

He was already having a better time than he had ever had with a woman. And it was getting better.

Devin took Clint's cockhead into his warm, wet mouth and began to consume it with his tongue and lips.

Expertly.

Thrillingly.

Clint was beginning to think that he was not Devin's first man. And he cared not a whit.

The boy could suck cock.

Without inhibition. With great love and emotion.

It was apparent to Clint that the boy loved sucking cock. And that he loved sex.

More tangible advantages over women.

Clint dispensed with all that useless thinking and concentrated on feeling.

A delectable young beauty was tormenting his cock with loving skill. And his cock wasn't worried about which chromosomes the cocksucker carried.

It just enjoyed the sucking.

And the way Devin stroked and cuddled Clint's balls as he sucked and licked.

Soon enough, the inevitable happened.

Clint's balls exploded. Large, creamy globs of man sperm surged out of his cock and into Devin's mouth. Devin gagged for an instant, then released the spurting cock from his mouth and allowed it to drench his pretty face.

Just as in Sissy Boy. Only real.

Letting his man dominate him. Emasculate him by shooting his cum – his cum! – all over his face!

No woman had ever allowed that.

Clint was sure he was in love.

And so was Devin.

As he greedily sucked and licked up all the cum he could reach with his tongue, between gasps and pants, Devin said, "I've wanted to [gasp] do that for you [pant] ever since I can remember."

Clint's eyes opened wide at that remark. And he thought, "He's wanted me for years and I haven't even noticed."

Then he scolded himself for being stupid and insensitive. Followed by some heavy regret. "I could have been fucking Devin for years!" he thought.

But, as we've long been told, today is the first day of the rest of our lives. And it was Day Two for Clint Mountboy.

Clint helped his lover to his feet, then exchanged a big, cummy kiss.

It was time to make use of that big, comfy bed. The naked couple lay on their backs, side by side. Touching each other's cocks as they kissed softly.

Clint rolled onto his left side and began to kiss his way down Devin's perfect body. Pausing at the boy's puffy, right nipple.

He asked himself, "Do boys enjoy having their nipples worshipped?"

Then he got his answer.

Clint kissed, then gently licked and sucked Devin's right nipple. All the while playing sweetly with the boy's testicles.

Devin grunted in obvious appreciation at Clint's loving efforts.

Boys are so straightforward. They tell you when they like something. And they can't fake an orgasm.

Devin was enjoying himself.

Clint kissed his way over to the boy's left nipple, dallying nicely. Arousing the boy even more.

Slowly, Clint kissed a trail to Devin's belly button. Then lapped up the remains of the boy's earlier orgasm.

Devin was whimpering and stiff by that point. Mumbling something that sounded a lot like "Fuck me, please, Mr. Mountboy."

Clint wanted to comply, but was unsure about his methodology.

Good thing he had consulted that 'how-to' reference earlier.

It wasn't "What would Andy do?" It was "How do I do 'Andy'?"

Let's see.

There was one way that looked pretty good to Clint. When Sissy Boy star Andy's teacher had first fucked Andy.

Gently, Clint rolled Devin onto his stomach and slid two pillows under his tummy. Then he knelt behind Devin and considered his prize. A perfect, plump, pink posterior. Round and ample.

The little prickteaser even parted his legs a little so that Clint could 'see pink.'

Clint had eaten a lot of pussy, but had never licked anal. He thought it might be a bit unpleasant. He was wrong.

It was the most fun he had ever had.

He kissed all around the boy's perfect mounds, then got to serious matters. Kissing Devin's wrinkled 'spot,' then giving it a series of thrilling licks that had the boy squealing and begging for a proper fucking.

Clint's cock was quite outrageous by then. And he was aching to fuck the boy's sweet bottom.

But he wanted to be absolutely sure that there would be no pain involved.

So he continued excavating Devin's anus with his tongue.

He loved it. Devin loved it. He loved Devin. Devin loved Clint.

Devin almost spurted and would have if Clint had eaten him out for 30 more seconds. But Clint stopped just in time. Got on his knees, lined up his peehole with the boy's sopping anus and pushed.

Devin cried out. Not in pain. In agonizing lust.

Clint cried out. In true sexual fulfillment for the first time in his life.

He was all in. To his pubic hairs.

Devin felt stuffed. With the biggest cock he had ever 'entertained.'

"It's so big and hot and hard," he said to Clint. "Please give me a minute to get used to it."

Clint complied. Letting the boy's magnificent ass adapt to its welcome visitor.

127 seconds later, the boy grunted out, "OK"

Clint withdrew his cock four inches [10 cm], then pushed it all back in.

Devin screamed and released all his sperm in thick ropes, soaking the pillows.

Everyone was having fun. Better than if they had gone to the swimming pool. Involving almost as much liquid.

Clint set about some serious fucking. In and out. The best fuck – bar none – of his life.

Devin was an active, enthusiastic participant in the fuck. And his grunts, gasps, whimpers, squeals and 'fuck-me's' made everything intensely more enjoyable to Clint.

Clint held back from cumming for 18 minutes – admirable under the circumstances. Five of those minutes involved intense warning signals. Building toward a true 'climax' that nearly ripped Clint's testicles off.

The perfect fuck.

Especially since Devin joined Clint in paradise yet again at the moment of the 'little death.'

Could life truly be this good?

Only if a man 'tries boys.'

Try Boys – Three

One – Barbershop Buddies

All week long, the home remodeler had been thinking about that advertisement in the previous Saturday's newspaper.

"Tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation?" it asked. "Try boys."

And that picture. Beautiful boys looking at him. Urging Rick to 'try' them.

Why had that small, 4 by 4-inch [10 cm] ad affected Rick so much?

First of all, he was tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation he got from his relationships with women. Really tired.

But that was pretty much the way the world was. Wasn't it?

There were no real option B's for a 'normal,' supposedly heterosexual male. Women with all their faults. Or some exceptional, thus rare, porn; slick babyoil; and an old t-shirt for mop-up.

That was what was so darned stupefying about the ad. It had grabbed Rick's 34-year-old brain, shaken it and given it a good twist.

Boys.

So pretty, sweet and innocent.

So needy of sex.

So submissive.

Everything a hetero man wanted but wasn't getting from women.

Still 3;

It was immoral. Probably. And illegal. For a certainty.

Rick knew there were web sites that glorified man-boy 'relations.' He had never been to one of them, but he knew that every single fetish in the world was represented on the Internet. So there had to be such sites.

He stayed away from those. Didn't even go on the 'Try boys' site. Which he had convinced himself was a 'trap' for men who didn't have Rick's self-control.

A self control that was 'sorely' tested the following Saturday – the day of this story – when Rick looked in his sports section and saw a second 'Try boys' ad.

Bigger this time. A full quarter of a page. Same stuff about what a man was tired about. And this ad had a man in it – as well as a boy.

The man, who was about Rick's age, was walking hand-in-hand with a boy. A beautiful boy, who was looking at the man with what had to be love.

Everyone was fully clothed. There was no 'penetration, however slight.' But it was the most erotic picture Rick had ever seen.

That man and boy were lovers. Rick was sure of it. And off camera, the man was sticking his cock into that boy's ass. Rick was sure of that too.

Rick actually groaned out loud at the thought.

And the shame and guilt he felt for thinking it. Among other shameful, guilt-worthy thoughts. Like what he was thinking all week about Carter, the boy at the house where Rick was putting in cabinets.

The boy was a stunner.

Not that Rick would have thought of him in those terms before he had seen the first 'Try boys' ad. That darned thing had 'rebooted' Rick's psyche somehow.

Which allowed Rick to notice how Carter had been hanging around Rick as he worked. Wanting 'something' from the man. Something Rick never could and never would give him.

Right?

Had there been other boys like Carter at Rick's job site? Thinking about it, Rick was sure there were. Other boys, flirting with the hunky carpenter.

Why hadn't Rick 'noticed' that before?

And why hadn't he 'noticed' Gavin?

Aaahhh, Gavin.

Rick's 12-year-old, next-door-neighbor Gavin.

Prettier than Carter. Cuter too. Blonder. With curlier hair and bluer eyes.

And, since he was living mere yards away from Rick, a permanent threat to the man's life and liberty. Though not to his pursuit of happiness.

Gavin.

It's accurate to say that Rick had never really 'noticed' Gavin until he saw that ad one week earlier.

Since then, he had wanked himself dry thinking about Gavin.

He would have to move. Or buy a state-of-the-art chastity belt for himself. Or just do normal things that would put his head back on straight.

Normal things. Like going for a haircut.

Good idea.

Rick collected himself, got into his car and drove the eight blocks to Mario's barber shop – his usual place. He walked into Mario's at 10:23 that Saturday morning.

Normal.

Greeted Mario. And his business partner Enzo, cutting hair in the other chair.

Three people waiting.

Took a seat.

Normal.

Looked at the magazines spread out on the well-worn coffee table. The normal stuff. Sports magazines. Big glossy magazines picturing women in black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings, showing their wet pussies to whoever was interested.

Wait.

Something not normal.

Mixed in with all the titty mags were 3;

Oh no.

Three back issues of [gasp] Sissy Boy magazine!!

Filth.

Abnormal filth!

In his hairy sanctuary.

Rick knew about Sissy Boy, of course. Their ads were all over the place – TV, buses, posters. And you couldn't pass a newsstand or a supermarket checkout without seeing the abnormally filthy rag prominently displayed.

But Rick had never been interested Sissy Boy. Or its little cockteasing models.

Rick looked at the top issue. And it looked at him. Were the other men in the shop watching his moralistic struggle against picking up that filthy filth?

He sneaked a peek.

Oh no!

The other three men waiting were also each reading a Sissy Boy! And their khakis were all 'tented.'

Rick sighed and picked up the Sissy Boy issue that promised "Daddy teaches Timmy to love anal."

Rick's eyes surveyed the cover. A standing, delicious, naked, young boy who was almost as pretty as Gavin was wide-eyed and obviously crying out as a big-cocked man standing behind him stuffed the boy's tiny bottom with his raging cock.

Rick gasped.

And was immediately embarrassed. Had anyone noticed? The three other 'readers' wouldn't have heard a train crashing into the barber shop. Mario and Enzo were busy cutting hair and discussing world events with their patrons.

Rick turned to the inside cover.

An advertisement. Though not for 'Try boys.' [Unbeknownst to new reader Rick, Sissy Boy had recently been accepting 'theme-appropriate' advertising. This ad was quite appropriate.] The ad showed a beautiful, naked, young boy. He was in the 'doggy' position and drooling an extremely thick wad of sperm from his bottom. His little balls were just hanging there saucily. The boy was looking back at the camera and smiling angelically. The copy said, "Daddy just fucked me with new 'Spermbutt' lubricant. It felt awesome!"

Then, as if that weren't enough, on the facing page, the boy was on his knees. Stiff little prong standing tall and drooling boyjuice. His 'Daddy' or at least the visible, bottom half of him, was standing to the boy's right. The man's huge cock was drooling sperm from a recent orgasm onto his 'son's' fully-spunk-glazed face. The happy, beaming boy was saying, "Thanks, Daddy!" At the bottom of the page was a package of 'Spermbutt,' with the tagline, 'Your sissyboy will thank you.'

Rick gasped again. Focused on the boy's pretty eyes. Through that mask of sperm and semen. The boy wanted 'it.' Rick was sure of it. He hadn't been forced or even persuaded. The boy loved being fucked and spunked.

Rick turned the page and was assaulted with a 20-page 'pictorial' about a boy named Timmy whose father, one evening, taking his paternal duties seriously, taught his son everything he knew about anal sex.

And he knew quite a lot.

Was someone calling Rick's name?

"You're next, Rick," Mario said.

Reluctantly, Rick put the magazine down and, hiding his erection as well as he could [which was not well as all], he sat in Mario's chair. Barely hearing Mario say something about, "I brought those magazines in from home because so many customers asked for them, you know. They're really exciting. Don't worry about the erection. Every man who reads them gets one. But I don't let kids like the little guy in Enzo's chair read them. Don't worry."

A kid? A kid saw Rick reading Sissy Boy?

That was a bit unnerving. But not terrible.

Until Rick looked over and saw said kid.

It was Gavin.

Beautiful, spunk-worthy Gavin.

And he was smiling at Rick with that 'glacier-melter' of a grin.

Nooooo!

The worst!!!

Gavin would think he lived next door to a pervert. Rick would be on a list at police headquarters. Nancy, Gavin's single mother, would wait for the right moment, then snip Rick's balls off with huge, ultra-sharp, serrated scissors.

If that were all true, why was Gavin smiling?

Rick ignored Gavin and half-listened to Mario's take on world events.

The haircuts for man and boy ended the same time. They both paid and found themselves outside the shop.

Politely, Rick asked, "Is your Mom picking you up, Gavin?"

"She's at an all-day quilting party with her friends, Mr. Topman. I walked here."

The smart thing would have been for Rick to tell Gavin he wasn't heading home just yet. Let the boy walk home. Anything else would be life-threateningly risky. So Rick said, "Can I give you a ride home?"

Which engendered another glacier-melter, cock-raiser smile from Gavin.

It was a very short ride and nothing of import happened, except for Rick stealing peeks at Gavin's long, bare, beautiful legs.

They arrived home and that could have been it. Should have been it.

But after saying goodbye and "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Topman," Gavin said, "Darn it. I forgot my key. That's OK. I'll just sit on my porch until mom gets home in six or seven hours."

All those who believe Gavin really forgot his key, can I see a show of hands? I thought so.

Another opportunity for Rick to do 'the right thing.' Which Rick, of course, rejected.

"No need for that, Gavin. Come on to my house and I'll give you lunch."

Gavin hoped that his lunch included that big piece of meat he saw sticking up when Mr. Topman read that sissyboy book.

Two – Lunch for Two

How was Rick ever going to endure six or seven hours without fucking this perfect boy's perfect butt?

Answer – no way.

Rick fed Gavin a baloney sandwich when, in fact, he wanted to feed the boy his own baloney.

The kid was so effing sexy.

As they cleaned up the dishes, Gavin took the initiative. Carefully. The meaningless conversation had been about school and baseball until Gavin asked, "Mr. Topman, do you think it's OK for guys to talk about feelings?"

Dangerous ground, but an answer was required, so Rick said, "Everyone has feelings, Gavin. It's OK to talk about them."

Rick waited for Gavin's reaction. It took two or three minutes. Clearly, Gavin was weighing his next statement. Then he said it. "I get funny feelings sometimes when I see you, Mr. Topman."

Rick gulped. Things weren't going the way he wanted them to. Or were they?

"What kind of funny feelings?" Rick asked throatily.

Gavin blushed crimson and said. "The feelings a boy gets when he sees a man working in his yard with his shirt off. The way you were two weeks ago. I didn't know what those feelings meant."

Rick gulped twice that time. Then said, "People can't help how they feel. Gavin. What were the feelings like?"

Gavin bit his lower lip, then said, "They were nice feelings, but they hurt a little too. Like an ache for something I wanted, but I couldn't have."

Gavin paused a moment to let that sink in with Rick, then added, "Then they were sad feelings, because I knew you didn't have those feelings for me. Even when I sunbathed in the backyard."

Rick knew a big corner had been turned. The boy had just confessed that he wanted Rick and was sad that Rick didn't want him.

Rick was treading the most dangerous minefield of his life and knew he should end it right there. Instead, he was trying to remember Gavin sunbathing. And was kicking himself for not noticing the boy lying semi-nude and pining for Rick to notice him.

Gavin again moved things along. "I know you could never have those kinds of feelings for me. I know I'm not as pretty as those boys in that magazine you were looking at." And he looked down sadly. Fluttering his long, long eyelashes.

Rick's ego swelled. And so did his penis.

This stupendously gorgeous boy felt he wasn't worthy of The Great Rick Topman!

Rick was faced with one of life's defining moments. A true fork in destiny's road. Safe and soulless or insanely risky and ferociously rewarding?

Rick chose the bumpy road.

"Gavin, you're the prettiest boy I've ever seen. And I'm flattered that you get feelings when you see me." Then, the unambiguous "I have feelings for you too, Gavin."

Words not necessary from here on.

Gavin looked up. Showing his wide, deep-blue, moist eyes to the man he admitted having feelings for.

That was enough of an invitation for Rick.

He held his arms wide. Gavin sissy-ran over to his man and flung himself into Rick's lap.

Rick's mouth consumed Gavin's. Kissing. Tonguing.

Oh.

Though both lovers were fully clothed, Rick couldn't remember anything in his life that had been half as erotically thrilling.

The boy was an inexperienced kisser. He and his schoolmate Carter (the lad who was flirting with Rick on the job site) had sucked each other's peenies a few times. But no kissing. When Carter had told Gavin about his inability to seduce Rick that past week, Gavin was concerned that Rick may have been one of that infinitesimal percentage of men who didn't like sissyboys.

Now he had something to brag about to Carter. And he was getting more to brag about every minute.

Rick was in for a penny, in for a peeny. So as he kissed Gavin, he removed the boy's short shorts and began to run his rough, work-callused fingers all over the boy's private parts as they kissed hotly.

Rick was startled at how small the boy was 'down there.' Fully stiff at 2¾ inches [7 cm]. With little pearls that throbbed when he caressed them.

Gavin was delighted with the proceedings. Rick was Gavin's first man. His Daddy had skipped out on his responsibilities – to Gavin's mom and the boy's sex education – years earlier. And gentle, loving treatment from a man with rough hands is a sissyboy's wettest dream.

It was time for Gavin to get naked. He broke the kiss and began to pull off his shirt. Rick assisted. And had a delicious, naked, eager-to-make-love sissyboy on his lap.

The recipe for a great Saturday afternoon.

Rick showered the boy's body with hot kisses. Fondling Gavin in sensitive, intimate places.

Gavin squealed with sexual heat when Rick licked his middle finger and slid the rough, callused digit into Gavin's boiling bottom. Rick knew he had a winner with that, so he decided to give the boy something his girlfriends had always liked – nipple adoration.

Rick sucked and licked Gavin's right nipple as he found, then rubbed the boy's prostate. Gavin's first P-spot massage. In a place Gavin didn't even know he owned.

The boy screamed in sexual fury, then pumped out six creamy ropes of boy's cream. All over Rick's hairy chest. Shuddering with raging lust throughout his ecstasy.

Oh my.

Rick resolved to remember that in six hours, he would have to return Gavin – walking under his own power – to his mother.

Thank goodness the boy recovered quickly and was soon on his knees, pulling Rick's pants down to get at the man's big, thick cock.

Out it sprang. In all its virile glory!

Gavin gasped and said, "It's huge!"

Who among us doesn't appreciate that comment now and then?

Rick appreciated it all right. And liked things even better when the kneeling Gavin took Rick's hot meat into his tiny, stretched mouth and gave it the sucking of the new millennium.

The boy was an enthusiastic cocksucker. And quite active with his wet, scorching tongue.

Rick's orgasm was cathartic. Ridding the man of 34 years of hetero BS. And nearly fossilizing his testicles in its raw, sexual intensity.

Rick LOVED watching Gavin valiantly choke and gag down as much of Rick's thick load as he could manage.

His women dates had always thought that was 'icky.'

Women know all about men's wide range of repulsive needs. They just have no intention of satisfying them.

Gavin wanted to satisfy every one of Rick's sordid desires. Perhaps all that very afternoon.

They were both eager to cross items off that long list.

Leaving their clothes heaped on the kitchen floor, the lovers moved upstairs to Rick's bed. Where the man set out to repay the boy for his oral efforts.

Gavin lay on his back, whimpering and squealing so sexily as Rick dove into his cocklet and balls with mouth and tongue. Rick licked up the boy's previous creamy emission, then set about creating a successor.

The boy was consumed by sexual fever as the man sucked and licked his privates. But the Big Moment arrived when Rick slid two fingers into the Gavin's sweet pootie as he sucked his little pearl bag.

Two callused-yet-gentle fingers on his vulnerable prostate as his balls were tongue-bathed.

Oh.

Gavin spurted again.

A real gusher that time.

Allowing Rick a moment of self-satisfaction. Apparently, Rick was good at this.

Gavin certainly thought so.

If the man wanted to fuck him, Gavin was almost ready. The fingers had opened him nicely. One last thing.

Gavin breathed out, "That was awesome, Mr. Topman. Please fuck me now. I want you to be my first. There's some 'Spermbutt' in my backpack. I use it when I 'rub myself' thinking of you. I'll go get it."

And he did. Running downstairs and returning quickly with a half-used tube of the lube guaranteed to "make your sissyboy thank you."

Giving Rick a moment to consider the possibility that he wasn't Gavin's first. Dismissing that as irrelevant. Then considering the long-term consequences of fucking the 12-year-old neighbor boy. Also dismissing that as irrelevant.

After all, his cock WAS really hard. And would accept no further logic or reason.

Gavin lay on his stomach and opened his legs to give Rick full access to paradise. Rick decided to take his time. Savor the moment.

He kissed Gavin's soft globes, making the boy moan and squirm softly. Then, in an impulse of passion that surprised him, he licked Gavin's sweet asshole.

Gavin squealed loudly at that. No one had ever done THAT for the pretty boy.

Rick liked lick one, so he proceeded to lick two. Followed by a barrage of licks and tasty tonguings that had the boy squirming and whimpering to be fucked.

Almost ready.

Rick applied a generous portion of Spermbutt to three fingers, then used them to lubricate and dilate the boy's 'pussy.'

Nothing had ever looked more fuckable than Gavin's bumhole to Rick as he slathered Spermbutt onto his red, thick, angry cock.

He paused behind his lover, then pushed the head and an inch of shaft into the impossibly tight quasi-opening. The boy screamed. But didn't use the word 'stop.' Instead, he grunted out the 'more' word.

Rick complied. Shoving in another generous portion of manmeat. Lighting the boy up, since that dose of cock rubbed his prostate.

A pause for discomfort to pass and then the repeated request for 'more.'

'All in' that time.

Gavin was literally stuffed with cock. So tight! Rick wondered idly how the boy ever made a proper poop with such a tight butt.

But enough thinking. Rick started fucking. And did it very well.

Rubbing Gavin's sweet prostate on each long stroke.

Gavin's gasps and whimpers getting louder until 3;

The boy's third shuddering orgasm of that wonderful day.

Followed closely by Rick's own 'trip to the other side.'

All because Rick got over his inhibitions and decided to 'try boys.'

Try Boys – Four

One – Inspiration

Jake Pierce knew that. He could see it changing.

No, it wasn't merely the global economic crisis that was changing things. Nothing as trivial as that.

What was changing was the way men and boys were 'relating' to each other.

That's not exactly right. What was really changing was the frequency and the number (by a very large factor) of men and boys who were 'relating' to each other.

Men and boys have always 'related' to each other. Despite, during the past couple of centuries, those 'relations' having evolved into one of society's biggest taboos. A taboo every bit as strict as the big three: drawing to an inside straight, agreeing with a woman that she looks fat, or eating half-priced sushi.

But over the past two months, that man-boy taboo was eroding.

Jake saw it happening everywhere. And he knew why.

It was those advertisements.

First they were just small ads in the Saturday sports section.

"Tired of the nagging, manipulation and emasculation?" it asked. "Try boys."

Try boys?

That was crazy, right?

Not to the men who took the advice.

They discovered that boys were sweet, uncomplicated, sexy as H-E-hockey-sticks, docile, submissive and sexually ravenous – eager to please their man.

All the stuff women weren't.

Jake tried not to think about all that 'try boys' baloney. Thought it was a ridiculous fad that would pass quickly and leave all the men who bought into it embarrassed, if not incarcerated.

But the so-called 'fad' was growing. By the fifth week, the newspaper ads had expanded to full-pagers – three days a week. There were ads on the sides of buses and on the Internet. Not to mention all those radio and television commercials.

The ads weren't illegal because all they showed were fully-clothed, hunky men holding hands and looking deeply and lovingly into the eyes of exquisitely-beautiful, fully-clothed boys.

Could something that simple, along with that unfortunately dead-accurate question really change a society?

Reports and features on the 24-hour news channels and newsmagazines were calling it the strongest 'movement' of the new Millennium.

Jake felt pretty good about himself for not buying into it though.

He was fiercely hetero. And proud. Liked women. And they liked him.

Mostly.

OK, the stuff the ads said about 'nagging, manipulation and emasculation' was all true. But he liked sex with women.

Mostly.

When he 'got some.'

Being with a boy was wrong. Everyone said so. At least until two months ago.

Since then, the world was acting a bit loony. The world would get over it. Jake was sure of that.

Plus, Jake was pretty sure that he would be finding a 'special lady' really soon. One who wouldn't nag, manipulate or emasculate. One who would do everything in her power to satisfy every single one of Jake's despicable sexual urges.

Really soon.

Though Jake had to admit that the 'Try boys' ads had gotten him thinking. Jake was a very handsome, buff, articulate, intelligent, reasonably-hygienic, 32-year-old man. If a guy like him couldn't find that 'special lady' he fantasized about, did she exist?

Or were all women pretty much like the ones Jake had met so far?

Jake was thinking about all that on Saturday morning as he stopped at one of those ubiquitous Novastag's Coffee places for a super-bold-extra-grande cup of Joe.

His bladder was telling Jake that he'd better pee before ordering, so he went to the single-holer men's room.

Locked.

Jake could 'hold it in' for a few minutes, so he ordered his coffee and asked for 'room for cream' – a request that is never honored at any coffee shop in Christendom. Jake dumped an inch of coffee, added cream and waited for the men's room to open.

Ten minutes.

Tried the door again. Locked.

Five minutes more. Jake considered finding another place to pee, when the door opened. And Jake saw who emerged.

A lovely, 11- or 12-year-old boy. Face flushed. Breathing heavily. A suspicious wet spot on the back of his very short shorts. Right where the bottomhole would be.

The boy scooted past an astonished Jake and out the door.

Jake forgot about his urinary issues to consider what he had just seen. Had the boy been wanking off in there? It was clear that he had been involved in some sexual activity. But if he was just wanking, what about that wet spot?

Less than a minute later, a forty-something man emerged from the same men's room – also flushed – and smiling to himself. Feeling pleased about things. With apparent good reason.

The man locked eyes for a moment with Jake, said, "Sorry to keep you waiting, Sport," and left the store.

Was that 3;?

Did they 3;?

For the first time in his life, Jake was feeling 'left behind' of things in the world in general. Had men and boys gotten that bold about having sex?

Had man-boy 'cuddles' gone mainstream?

If so, what did it mean to Jake?

Jake still had to go winkers, so he stepped into the men's room. As he peed, his nose was assaulted with the unmistakable smells of 'man's sperm' and 'boy's cream.' Not to mention the sight of a wall that hosted a streaky puddle of what must have been the boy's sincere appreciation of pleasure.

That man had just fucked that boy in a Novastag Coffee men's room! And didn't even make a half-hearted effort to conceal it.

Jake was baffled by what was happening to the world he once knew.

And, for the first time, he began to consider the 'consequences' of choosing to live in the world it was becoming.

Could he, Jake Pierce, former all-conference defensive tackle for the Northeast Central High School Westerners, do gay things? With an underage – the more underage the better, he posited – boy? Did he want to do those things? Or was he just playing along with trends as they evolved?

He began to think of possible boys that he might 3;well 3;associate with.

And he thought of Garrett Sweetbum. His ex-girlfriend's younger – much younger – brother.

Garrett was maybe 12 – almost 12 anyway – by then. And he was always hanging around Jake when the man was squiring Tiffany around.

Tiffany Sweetbum was a looker all right. And a great – though far too infrequent – fuck. But, Holy Harvey Milk, could that woman nag, manipulate and emasculate!

Garrett, on the other hand, had always been sweet and nice. And now that Jake allowed himself to think about the boy 'that way,' Garrett was every bit as pretty as his sister. Though in a different way. He had a cock. And no titties.

Jake knew something about Garrett and his cock, now that Jake thought about it. Garrett's cock was always stiff whenever Jake was around. Jake used to chuckle to himself about it because the little nipper had a fine Johnson for a young lad.

Jake's guestimate on Garrett's cock size was at least a six-incher [15 cm]. Which was especially incongruous because the boy was quite sissyish. Giggly. Pretty. Almost feminine. Flirty too. Jake would have imagined that a sissyboy like Garrett would have had a two-incher [5 cm]. Three [7½] at most.

Thus demonstrating his ignorance of the wide diversity of sissyboyhood.

But why was a straight man like Jake even hosting thoughts like that?

Answer. He had decided to try boys.

Not 'trying' as in 'fucking,' or 'cocksucking.' Or even 'fondling' or 'kissing.' Just 'trying' as in, 'getting to know better.' Yeah. That was all. That kind of trying.

And Garrett was a great boy to 'try.'

Two – Perspiration

Jake considered the possibilities as he walked down the street.

None of them were plausible.

But then 3;

"Hi, Jake!"

Oh my stars!

It was Garrett!

Walking in his direction.

Fate. Coincidence. Stranger than anything Hollywood or Charles Dickens could ever postulate.

Cruel fate. Because Jake hadn't thought through how he was going to 'try' Garrett.

Which was why Jake acted kind of dopey when Garrett greeted him with a billion-watt smile that practically gave Jake third-degree burns.

Worse, Garrett hugged Jake as he said, "It's so good to see you, Jake. I missed you since you and Tiffany broke up."

Oh. That hug felt very nice. But they were in public, so Jake just sort of half-hugged Garrett back. Then he backed away from the hug and gave Garrett a pretty good smile – maybe 100 watts. Though it's hard to measure with those new, curly bulbs these days.

The smile was good enough for Garrett. Jake almost blushed when he saw Garrett's stiffie practically bursting through his extremely short shorts. Had the boy grown 'down there' in the two months since Jake had broken up with Tiffany?

Why did the sight of that 'concealed weapon' make Jake's face feel hot? His ears especially.

It was time for Jake to form some words, so he did. "It's great to see you, Garrett. I missed you too."

Jake winced when he said that. Was he being too forward? Was he out of line? Was he being friendlier than he should be?

Garrett seemed very pleased with that simple statement.

Nothing was said for several millimoments.

Just a man and a boy standing there. On the street. Smiling at each other.

Uncomfortable.

So Jake said, "Say, Garrett, could I buy you some ice cream?"

[The offer of nourishment to the potential, sweaty-sex partner. Still ambiguous, but moving forward slightly.]

Garrett said, "That would be great. I don't have to be home until dinner – six hours from now. My family has so many kids, my Daddy wouldn't even notice if I was missing for a week."

Jake knew that Garrett was kidding. Charlie Sweetbum, Garrett's widowed father, loved his seven children very much – from the oldest, Tiffany, to the youngest, Garrett.

Still, wasn't that a bit 'flirty?' Was Garrett saying he was at Jake's 'disposal' for as long as Jake wanted?

Jake could only hope.

As Jake and Garrett walked the three blocks to the ice-cream parlor, Jake couldn't help noticing all the man-boy couples they encountered. And many of them were holding hands!

Jake flinched a little when Garrett slid his hand into Jake's. But he held the boy's warm, dry hand. And prayed that his own paw wasn't perspiring too much.

At the ice-cream shoppe, Jake watched in fascination as Garrett fired down a huge banana split while they spoke. Mostly about Tiffany. "She has a new boyfriend, Jake. A biker who treats her like crap. She's in love!"

Then Garrett said, "Tiffany didn't deserve you, Jake. You should have someone better."

Then the boy looked at Jake through his half-closed, beautiful eyes. And those inch-long lashes.

The man nearly creamed his pants.

Jake paid for the ice cream, noticing that he and Garrett were one of perhaps five man-boy couples in the shoppe.

Was the whole world going oddball?

When Jake left the shoppe, holding Garrett's hand, of course, he realized that he had no idea where they were going. Until Garrett said, "Can we go to the park, Jake? It's a beautiful day."

Jake wasn't about to deny the young beauty anything, so they walked the two blocks to the park, found a bench by a pond, and sat.

Jake looked around and saw two other man-boy couples sitting on nearby benches.

They were kissing!!!

In public!!!

Huh?

Jake was actually trembling when he considered the impact of what he was seeing. Men and boys holding hands as they walked. Kissing openly!

Jake felt Garrett lean into him. Looking for comfort and love. Giving himself to Jake. Against all of his 'better judgment,' Jake put his arm around Garrett and was startled by the boy's purr of contentment.

The boy was so sweet and beautiful. And he was so submissive to Jake.

But it was wrong – so wrong!!!

Garrett looked up at Jake – locked eyes with the man and without speaking flashed Jake a huge 'green light.'

The boy parted his lips and leaned slightly backward.

It was wrong – so wrong!!!

Jake kissed Garrett. Right on the mouth.

Oh.

It was a sweet kiss that the boy returned eagerly. Generously. Without an agenda. Donating himself to his man.

Oh.

Jake had never been more sexually aroused in his life.

He and the boy were fully clothed. They were only holding each other in their arms. No 'private parts' involved.

But Jake's ears were boiling with sexual heat.

Kissing.

Seeking something Jake never realized was possible.

True lust. Raw. Unfiltered by manipulation. Perfect submission to one man. Offering yourself to the other person in submission to his needs.

Nothing is more exciting or fulfilling.

Jake's cock was frighteningly erect. Throbbing violently as his tongue found Garrett's tongue.

Jake loved what was happening. He loved the kissing. The hugging. The delicious intimacy and complete depravity of it all. But if he didn't cum soon, he would injure himself.

And he didn't want to spunk his khakis on that park bench.

So he broke the kiss, looked his lover in the eyes and said, with a large dollop of desperation, "My place?"

Garrett bit his lower lip and nodded.

In microseconds, they were off the park bench and walking arm-in-arm for two blocks to Jake's place.

Three – Penetration

Were the neighbors watching? And judging?

Jake's cock didn't care. And his cock was doing the heavy living on the thinking at that moment.

Though what was left of his reason also told Jake that it was time to really, totally 'try boys.' Garrett in particular.

The lovers scrambled inside and, kissing all the way, reached Jake's bedroom.

Exactly where Garrett wanted to be. The boy had hungered for Jake since Tiffany had first brought him home. Garrett knew that Jake would be his some day. And today was the day!

Garrett submitted to Jake completely, letting the man pull his shirt over his head and off. Then squirming with delight as Jake pelted his boyish torso with hot kisses.

Jake sucked Garrett's right nipple as he lowered the boy's shorts, leaving the young beauty's eroding modesty protected only by a thin pair of 3;oh my 3;were those panties?

Oh yes!

It just kept getting better.

Garrett's panties were lilac-colored and severely tented.

A scrumptious sight.

Jake kissed his way down Garrett's flat stomach, all the way to the boy's sparse pubic hairs. Feeling the boy's drippy, large, boymeat rubbing Jake's cheek as he kissed around the boy's pubic region. Thrilling the boy's near-bursting libido.

It was a wonder that neither had spunked yet.

Jake set out to change that.

Tossing patience and heterosexuality aside, Jake took Garrett's cockhead into his warm, wet mouth.

Garrett squeaked with delight.

Jake had never sucked a cock before.

What had he been waiting for all his life?

Jake loved the taste of boy cock. The texture. The dripping and drooling that demonstrated the boy's excitement. Garrett's squeaks and squeals as he pushed his nicely-sized dazzler in and out of Jake's mouth. Frantically seeking his orgasm. Then achieving it.

Gloriously.

Pumping thick blobs of boy's cream from his pink balls, through his hard cock and into the man's boy-famished mouth.

Jake greedily swallowed nearly a pint of the pretty boy's sperm and semen.

This was not the way he thought his day would be going. But already it was the best day of his life.

When Jake took his pants off, his best day got better.

Garrett actually gasped at the sight of Jake's hard, fat meat.

Jake's cock was gasp-worthy. More than eight scorching inches [20 cm].

Even bigger than Tiffany had described it to Garrett. Tiffany liked to tease her brother about her boyfriends and their 'qualities.' Knowing that Garrett loved men. Confident that none of her boyfriends would ever stoop to making love to her baby brother.

Tiffany was spectacularly wrong.

Garrett drooled to suck that magnificent porkstick. But the boy wanted something else first. Something wonderful.

Garrett wanted to be fucked. Hard. Long.

He had been saving himself for Jake. Mostly. His bottomhole at least. That sweet place had not yet 'known' cock.

Jake was about to make the introduction.

Garrrett knelt on Jake's bed. Right in the center. Burying his head in two pillows. His bottom raised and pointed at Jake. In sweet invitation.

Jake considered his prize.

A historically-beautiful, frantic-for-a-fucking boy was showing Jake the path to paradise,

An impossibly-tight, pink-and-brown door to bliss. Accessorized with the cutest little bag of 'dangling pretties' and an occasional glance of the boy's spent, drooping cock.

Garrett, the little cockteaser, was even wiggling his bottom and whimpering to be fucked.

Jake, being only human, was as able as the rest of us to resist that sight.

Though his experience in ass-fucking was limited – two girls – neither of them Tiffany – both quite inebriated – had allowed Jake to 'come in through the servant's entrance.' Jake had enjoyed it both times – very much – but the morning after, both girls acted as if Jake had been a pervert with them or something.

Sigh.

Anyway, Garrett was not drunk and was not likely to protest – before, during or after.

Garrett, like any self-respecting sissyboy – wanted a cock in his ass.

A trooper like that deserved a good, stiff fucking. And some nice lubrication and dilation before penetration.

Jake quickly considered his options. Like most men who didn't have a sissy boyfriend to take care of all of his 'needs,' Jake 'stroked the pole' now and then. So he had a number of fine lubrication products that would have done the job quite well.

But for an occasion like this – Garrett's first fuck and Jake's first boy fuck – called for something more 3;personal.

Women Jake had known loved being 'eaten out.' More than anything except nagging, manipulating and emasculating their men.

Would a lovely sissyboy like Garrett love being eaten out too?

Time to find out.

Jake leaned forward and, tentatively at first, licked Garrett's boyhole.

The first thing Jake noticed was the taste. Tangy.

The second thing Jake noticed was Garrett's reaction. Shock and awe! Jake had found a sissyboy 'golden ticket' on that one. Garrett gasped first – in delighted shock – then he squeaked and squealed as Jake dug and licked. Deeper. Deeper. Stopping now and then to withdraw and give the boy's dangling balls a nice tonguing.

After 18 minutes of that divine torture, Garrett screamed and shot six, thick ropes of Grade A boy's cream all over Jake's grandmother's 150-year-old quilt.

Oh well.

Jake licked and dug for six more minutes, then pronounced his 'boyfriend' ready for fucking. Poor Jake had been at maximum arousal for more than an hour and his balls were aching badly.

Moving quickly, Jake found a bottle of 'beat-off' lube, slathered it onto his cock and tossed it aside.

Jake lined up his drooling peehole with Garrett's sopping anus. Rubbed them together a little bit, just to hear the boy whimper to be fucked.

He was going to enjoy it all.

Then, thanking whatever stars there be, Jake thrust his hips forward and lodged the entire knob of his penis head into Garrett's bottomhole.

Several local cemeteries reported that their residents were awakened by Garrett's expression of his feelings on that occasion.

It was a whopper of a scream.

But neither lover was deterred.

Jake pushed again – engendering a second, merely scary-movie-level scream from Garrett. Followed, thankfully by the boy's sweet request: "Push it all in my Jake," the boy murmured through his tears and gasps. "I need it!"

Jake obliged. That time merely eliciting a loud intake of breath, a soft whimper, and a second request: "It's so big and hot and hard. Give me a moment to get used to it."

Jake did so. Feeling pretty good about things. Enjoying the moment.

Jake's cock was very happy sitting in the best home it had ever visited. His lover was obviously ravenous for Jake's erotic attentions. And lover was the right word. Jake could and probably would LOVE Garrett. It was more than lust. Jake felt something with Garrett. Something he had never felt with a woman. He felt the boy's generosity of heart. His own, boyish need to be loved. And his eagerness to return that love.

Back to the fucking.

After two minutes and 24 seconds, Garrett managed to whisper, "OK." Which set the fucking into full motion.

Long, slow strokes at first. Then increased velocity and friction. The boy gasping each time Jake's cock clipped his sensitive prostate. Thrilling the boy in ways Jake had been unable to thrill any previous lovers.

Which was, in turn, extremely stimulating to Jake.

Not to mention the fantastic friction of a cock in a virginal boyhole.

Jake held back his orgasm for nearly 15 minutes – and might have lasted longer, had Garrett not spilled his own sperm in a heaving, shuddering climax that threw Jake off the rear car of the Orgasm Express.

Jake pumped so much cum into the boy's sweet bottom, that when he finally withdrew, Garrett's bottom leaked sperm for nearly half an hour. A delightful half hour, during which man and boy kissed and fondled each other's private parts until Jake was stiff and ready for a delightful Round Two.

When he proposed it to Garrett, Jake was surprised to hear Garrett say, "Oh, yes, Jake. I want you to fuck me again and again. I'll suck your cock too, even though it's been in my 'dirty place.' I just have to call Daddy first. So he won't worry."

Calling Daddy! That was enough to slap Jake back to reality.

The boy was 12 and Jake had just sucked his cock, then fucked him! Was he crazy? The father would find out. And call the police! Was it worth it?

So far, Jake would say – yes.

Still, he was very fearful when Garrett dialed the phone and got the man whom Jake once thought might be (and still could be) his father-in-law – Charlie Sweetbum.

"Hello, Daddy," Garrett said. "I'm fine. Better than fine. That's right, Daddy. I'm at Jake's place."

Omigosh! Garrett was spilling the beans! Already! Ruin! Death!

"Yes, Daddy. [giggle] We're in bed. Oh, stop teasing, Daddy. Of course we're naked."

Jake looked on in horror as Garrett nailed the man's coffin.

"Yes, Daddy. Jake sucked my cock. Of course he swallowed. He's a gentleman. And Daddy. Jake fucked me! That's right. Your youngest isn't a virgin any more. Isn't that great? I know. Yeah. Oh it was better than great. He's a kind and giving lover. He even ate my pussy for like half an hour before he fucked me. First time I got that treatment too. Yeah. I know. I loved it. And Daddy, I love him."

Garrett looked into Jake's eyes when he said that and Jake melted. The man was totally in love with the boy.

More of the telephone conversation. "No, Daddy, I haven't sucked his cock yet. There hasn't been time. And he's got a really nice, 'second-time-around' stiffie that I think should go in my bottom, don't you? Right. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Is Tyler staying over with you tonight? I thought so. Well, you'd better get your rest before he comes by. Is it OK if I stay with Jake all night? Right. OK."

Jake was stunned by the half of the conversation he heard. Then his heart skipped several beats when Garrett handed Jake the phone and said, "Daddy wants to talk to you."

[Gulp]

Jake took the phone from Garrett. Why was it so heavy? He held it up to his ear and said, "Hello, Mr. Sweetbum."

[Gulp]

"Hi, Jake. Thanks for being so good to my Garrett. The little sexpot has been in love with you since you first started sniffing around Tiffany. I knew sooner or later you would try boys. I'm very pleased that it was Garrett you tried. The little cockpleaser introduced me to his school friend Tyler six weeks ago – right after those 'Try boys' ads started coming out. And I've never been happier. I'm 50 years old and I'm fucking more often than when I was 20. And enjoying it a lot more too. Well, enough about me. You and Garrett have a great time. Just don't hurt him – except for a spanking if he gets sassy – the little teaser likes that. Bring him home by 6 tomorrow evening. No overnights on school nights. Though we can arrange some briefer 'conjugal visits' now and then during the weeks. If you want, he's yours from after school every Friday until Sundays at 6."

Somehow Jake managed to grunt out a 'thank you.'

Had the world gone mad?

Or had it suddenly gone sane?

"Oh, and one more thing, Jake," Garrett's Daddy said. "Save some of Garrett's boy's cream for me. When I kiss him good night, I always suck down a bellyful of his sweetness. It helps him sleep. Then he sucks down a nice, hot load of my sperm too. Helps us both sleep. But I never fuck him. I'm no perv."

Of course not. "Yes, sir," Jake said, then handed the phone back to Garrett.

"Hi, Daddy. Yes, I'll miss you too tonight. But you have Tyler. Don't wear him out. [giggle] Yes, Daddy. Jake uses plenty of lube. Yes, Daddy. I won't forget to suck his cock. [giggle] I know I'm a great cocksucker, Daddy. And you know it too. Bye, Daddy. I love you!"

And there it was. The beginning of a beautiful relationship.

All because Jake was willing to 'try boys.'

The End