Boisterous aka Boys-stir-us

Four short stories

#1
The Want Ads

A man reacts to a want ad and expects to meet an inexperienced adult, who is smooth like a little boy. But it is not what he expected.

Chad (13yo) and Tom (39yo)
Mt – cons oral anal (implied)

Older guys who like boys, you're in luck. Inexperienced WM looks normal, but beneath his clothes he is a smooth little boy who has just reached puberty. Photo and detailed letter about yourself required. Box 15675.

I was wild with lust when I read the ad in the personals of my local gay newspaper, masturbating as I read and re-read that ad. I responded truthfully, sending a recent picture taken at the beach that showed my slender, hairy torso. Even at 39 with slightly thinning hair, I looked rather youthful.

My letter explained that I was a married man with children but that I constantly fantasized about sex with boys. I outlined my only gay experience, which was with a roommate at college. We had done everything together, but then he transferred to another college. I hadn't had sex with a man for 19 years.

A week later I got a letter informing me I was the man of choice, and that only one man had been chosen. I was given a telephone number to call at a certain time. I called and spoke to a deep voiced man who gave me an address. We arranged to meet on a Saturday early in the afternoon.

I was nervous when I pulled up in front of a huge three story house in an established upper-class neighborhood. The man hadn't mentioned he was wealthy. For some reason this intimidated me and I almost didn't ring the doorbell.

"Hi, I'm Ray," a tall, silver haired man said after I introduced myself. He was slender and strikingly handsome; however, he had chest hair poking out the top button of his white shirt, and he certainly didn't look like a barely-pubescent boy. I felt a little disappointed, but I followed him into the foyer anyway.

He ushered me to a plush den that was furnished with a huge mahogony desk, a leather setee and rows of books on floor to ceiling bookshelves. "I suppose you are feeling a little mislead," he said casually. He sat behind the desk and I sat in a padded leather chair across from him.

"I am a little confused. Your ad said 3;"

"I had to mis-lead you for reasons you will soon discover." He asked me a lot of questions about my sexual past, including childhood experiences. I figured he was looking for a cheap thrill, but I answered truthfully anyway. I was quite curious and, largely due to the man's gentle confidence, was no longer apprehensive.

"I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to never breathe a word of this whole affair to anyone. Ever."

"Okay. I promise. Who would I tell, anyway? My wife?"

"I'm a busy man. And it's tough being a single parent. Still, I want my children to fulfill their dreams, just like any parent does. My son, who just turned 13, told me he thinks he is gay and that he wants to learn about sex from an older man. Are you interested in gently teaching an innocent boy about sex?"

"You want me to have sex with your son?"

"Exactly. That is, of course, if my son likes you. He has the final word on your selection. I wouldn't worry, though. He liked your photo very much. I like the fact you are married and monogamous. Reduces the risk of disease."

This whole thing seemed too weird to me. Not to mention culturally forbidden and illegal. "Why doesn't he learn from his friends? That's how most people do it, you know."

"He did a little experimenting; however, he is a sensitive boy and the first time someone called him a queer, he withdrew from those experimentations. He also told me he feels all his classmates are better endowed than he is. They tease him about it. That's when he came to me for advice. Besides, he said he wants an adult to teach him, someone to take charge and sort of guide him through the aspects of male love. I was fortunate enough to have an uncle to teach me about these things, but he lacks a loving uncle. Would you like to meet him?"

"This seems like a dream."

He smiled. "Assuming that means 'yes,' I'll take you to his room. He's anxiously awaiting your arrival, I'm sure."

I followed the man up a magnificent, curved staircase. The hallway was dark and very long. He stopped in front of a door and tapped, then entered. I lingered in the doorway as he walked into the room.

"Chad, this is Tom. You probably recognize his picture."

Chad sprang to his feet. He stood about 5' 5" [1.65 m] tall and was a slender boy with delicate, almost feminine features. His hair was silky and so blond that it was white. He was dressed in shorts and a bright blue tee shirt, and when he smiled shyly, he radiated beauty like an angel. His eyes were chocolate colored and quite bewitching.

"Hi," he said with a combination of eagerness and modesty.

I stepped forward and we shook hands as I said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Chad."

He looked up at me with hopeful expectation. "You'll really do it?" he asked as though he couldn't believe his good fortune. That was exactly how I was feeling.

"I'll leave you two alone." Chad's father closed the door behind him and we stood sort of trying not to look at each other. It was an awkward pause, which he broke by asking, "What do you want me to do first?" This was not a naieve innocence, but it was innocence non-the-less.

"Let's just talk for awhile first."

"Okay. How long can you stay?" He stepped closer to me, then tentatively back.

"I have to leave by 4:00. That gives us nearly two hours, so there is no rush." I sat on the bed. "Sit here beside me and tell me what you hope to get out of this."

He sat next to me, and I quietly admired his beauty. His white silky hair and vibrant tanned skin were too much. My pulse raced. He sat close enough that I could smell the residual shampoo on his hair. He was immaculate.

He looked at the fingers which lay in his lap as though they belonged to someone else. "Well, you know 3; I want to learn."

"But what is it you want most?" His legs were crossed at the ankle. I dropped my hand onto his bright white cotton sock.

He looked at my hand and swallowed hard. "To feel better. I have these strong 3; desires, urges. I don't know how to describe how I feel--sort of empty, I guess. It's like a really want something but don't know how to get it."

I was surprised. I had expected an answer like "getting a blow job" or "giving a blow job." I took his hand, first studying the neatly trimmed, unbitten nails. Then I looked full into his eyes. "Are you looking for intimacy? Do you just want a playmate? What do you want me to be?"

Chad curled his fingers to hold my hand--different from me holding his. "I don't know, Tom. I'm not sure what you mean."

"Do you want me to kiss you?" I asked, my face very close to his.

He straightened a little, then squeezed my hand even tighter. "On the lips?"

"Does that gross you out?"

He smiled awkwardly. "Not at all, but I just thought 3;"

"Thought what?"

The boy looked increasingly uncomfortable. "I don't know. I just hadn't thought about you wanting to 3;" His hands groped thin air. "I guess I thought you would sort of sit there while I did you 3; you know 3; sucked you 3; with you being married and all."

I could see how in his fantasy that would be a safe way to explore, with nothing expected or demanded of him except compliance and servitude. There was no way I would allow such a cold wall of safety between us. I leaned in and lightly brought my lips to his. Chad didn't pull back, so I continued to kiss him until I could feel him responding by softening his lips and pressing his body against mine. I pulled him even tighter, falling back on the bed with his slight weight on top of me. My hands roamed on his back, his buttocks, the back of his thighs. His lips became hungry as our connection endured, and his self-consciousness seemed completely forgotten.

His penis pressed against my stomach, a nub as hard as iron and hot as an ember. His knee came down between my legs and he moved it across my erection in a purposeful but crude caress. Chad's hands were in my hair and along my neck.

I was very aware of us wearing too many clothes for the level of arousal we shared. I worked my hands under his shirt and eased it toward his shoulders. When he figured out what I was doing, he broke our kiss long enough to assist me in slipping the shirt over his head. I rolled, putting Chad onto his back and I gazed down at his smooth chest. He looked more like a boy than a pubescent teenager.

As my hand went to the snap on his shorts, his eyes grew wide. His whole body tensed. I knew it was fear but not lack of desire. "What's wrong?" I asked in a soothing voice.

"I'm not sure I'm ready," he said in a very fearful voice.

I broke contact. "Don't be afraid of me. I'm enthralled with you. I can't imagine anyuthing that would make me think critically of you." My heart stopped beating. He was so beautiful, so delicate, yet so alive. I would go mad if we didn't continue our developing intimacy. But he looked troubled. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "It's nothing like that." He sat up, also. "It's just that I was hoping maybe 3;"

"What?" I asked, trying to sound understanding and patient. I was aware of the urgency in my voice. I know in my life I had never been more fully aroused.

"Will you just sort of lay back while I explore you?"

I smiled, then lay back on the bedspread, my hands folded behind my head. "Go ahead. Touch me anywhere."

He didn't move for a moment. Then he knelt close to me and started to unbutton my shirt, exposing my slender, hairy chest and stomach. He spread the flaps of my shirt wide and stared at me, his fawn's eyes large and dark. His tongue perched at the edge of his mouth. His lips were parted and full as he breathed soemwhat erratically.

Then he lightly touched one of my nipples with his fingertip.

"Umm," I uttered softly to encourage him. When the small nub erected, the boy took it between thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth. When he could tell for sure how much I enjoyed his attention, he brought his other hand to my other nipple. After a few minutes, he released them and brought his cheek to my chest.

"You smell good," he said. I rubbed his soft hair. Without lifting his head, he reached down and unfastened my jeans. My entire body contracted as he rubbed his thumb across the spot in my Hanes where my glans was pressed into the elastic waistband.

"Did you cum?" he asked.

"What?" I lifted up a little and saw why he asked. My shorts were soaked with pre-cum all around my glans making the white cotton nearly transparent. "No. That's just a clear fluid I seep when I get really hot." His thumb stroked across the glans again. "Keep doing that and I will come, though."

He smiled and said, "It's so big." Becoming more bold, he lifted the elastic with one hand and dipped his other hand inside, coming up with a fist full of my meat. I felt the coolness of the open air against my wet glans. Impatient, I pulled my knees up, then lifted my butt off the bed as I slid my jeans and Hanes off. I relaxed onto the bed again.

Chad stared at me for a moment. Then one hand began toying with my testes, shifting them around in their fairly-tight scrotum. His other hand squeezed and caressed my cock. As he worked my genitals, he slowly brought his face close to them.

It was a moment before I realized the slick movement across my glans was his tongue. He had bravely taken the glans into his mouth. My hands came instantly to his head, caressing it tenderly as his tongue worked around my purple knob. When he took it into his mouth, I felt the scrape of teeth and flinched away.

"Sorry," he said looking up at me. I could see my cock right at his eye level. His beautiful face and my purple, brutish cock. I forced myself not to cum. His lips parted as he again took the glans into his mouth. A moment later, I felt it hit the back of his throat. He gagged and quickly lifted his head.

"Sorry," he said again.

"Don't apologize. This is the most wonderful experience of my entire life."

He appeared to take comfort from that. I could tell he wanted to do everything perfectly on his first exploration with oral sex. "Tell me what to do."

I asked him to pretend his lips were his fist and his tongue was the palm of his hand. "Move your head like it is your hand jacking me off."

He caught on quickly, not taking me so deeply that he gagged. "Now, while you keep doing that, suck on it as hard as you can. Over and over. That's it, Chad. It feels so good!"

My hands were gently urging his head to bob faster. He sucked sporadically. Loudly, and with a lot of enthusiasm. Technically, it was a lousy blow job. I was so aroused by the sight of his beautiful face, his lips stretched to accommodate my cock, that I felt myself approaching climax.

"Chad, I'm going to come in just a minute. I'll tell you when it's coming so you can lift your head 3; if you want to."

Despite my efforts at self-control, my hands took over, guiding his head up and down the tip of my cock. My hips thrust upward to meet his descending face. He was gagging before I came--probably I pressed myself too deeply. "I'm coming!" I cried. I forced myself to release his head, but the kid didn't move away. My first lightning bolt of semen hit the back of his throat, making him gag again.

The second was too much for him. He raised his head, again gagging. The third wad of semen struck him full on the bridge of his nose. He flinched, then dove back down to take me into his mouth again. I pumped the rest of my seed into his mouth.

I was just recovering my senses when I head his loud swallow. He began licking puddles of my semen from my abdomen. I put my hands under his bony shoulders and pulled his face to my chest. He relaxed there. I stroked his hair and said, "No one has ever made me feel that good, Chad. No one."

"Really?" He said, lifting his head to look me in the eye. Some of my semen was smeared across his nose and forehead. His lips and chin were slick with my juices.

I pushed him onto his back and nuzzled my face to his arm pit. "You don't have any hair under your arm yet," I observed.

He pulled his arm down.

I lifted it again. "Don't be embarrassed. You have a beautiful underarm." I kissed it and he giggled. I lifted up to gaze the length of his body. He looked expectantly at me, his chest heaving, his eyelids half-closed. My hand went the length of his smooth, soft belly and unsnapped his shorts without fumbling. I rubbed across his slender shaft through his underwear, making his body fold in toward the middle as his shoulders and knees raised off the bed.

"Oh, God," he muttered.

I was amazed at how small his penis was. Still reed thin and only about three to three-and-a-half inches [9 cm] in length. I knew my own organ had been larger by the time I passed through the portal of puberty.

In a tense voice, Chad asked, "What are you going to do?"

I leaned my face close to his and said, "You tasted my semen. I'm going to taste yours."

Abruptly, he sat up. I couldn't understand why he was so uptight.

"I've got a secret to tell you. Please don't be mad at me." In shame, he averted his face.

"Okay," I promised, my curiosity fully aroused.

He paused a long time, then quickly confessed, "I can't come yet."

That explained the small size of his cock. He had not reached puberty yet. "But your father said you had reached puberty a year ago 3;"

"I lied to him. Please don't tell him. He would never have let me do this 3; let you come here if he knew."

I brought my hand to his crotch. His cock was still hard. "You've got a nice dick," I said in a smooth voice, breaking the silence. "Just the right size and shape."

"You don't think it's too small?" he asked in a hopeful voice.

"It's just the right size for you."

"Are you mad that I can't come yet?"

I worked my hand beneath his jockey shorts and tickled my finger across his shaft. "Well, you can't shoot yet, but you can have orgasms. You ever give yourself a dry orgasm?"

"Yes," he said shyly.

I stood and tugged off his shorts and underwear.

Then I moved on top of him, rubbing my hairy chest against his smooth chest, jabbing my wet, flaccid cock against his little erection. His lips were pressed to my collarbone. I brought my full wight to bear on him as I snaked my hands under his hips. I rubbed down the damp cleft of his magnificent buttocks.

I connected with his mouth for a gentle kiss before working my tongue across his tender cheeks and down the supple flesh of his throat. When I reached his nipples and nipped at one of the small nubs, he grabbed my head and moaned. His hips were active against the sheets as he let himself be swept away by pleasure. Then I laved my tongue into his navel while gently prodding his tightly-drawn balls with my fingertips.

I lifted his cock with my thumb and forefinger and gently took it into my mouth, tasting the boy's body salt and smelling the subtle, acrid odor of his hairless pubic region. Suddenly both of his hands clamped upon my head as his whole body contracted.

When I realized he had not yet orgasmed, I used my tongue around the hyper-smooth glans and continued to caress his balls with one hand. His body was alive like flames on a log, all motion but no direction. I lowered my head and felt his knob strike the soft tissue beyond the roof of my mouth. The thick skin of his shriveled scrotum pressed flat against my tongue. He was inside my mouth--cock and balls! He jabbed wildly, his body out of control as a dry orgasm consumed him.

After I felt him start to grow slack, I let his cock slide from my lips. I lay next to him and hugged him, pressing my again- erect cock against his thigh. A smile was frozen on his lips. I sat up and asked, "Do you want me to leave now?"

Chad also bolted upright. "No. Don't go yet," he pleaded.

I laughed gently and said, "I'm in no hurry to leave, but sometimes after a guy has an orgasm, he's done messing around."

He took my erection in both hands and said, "You don't seem to be done messing around."

I grabbed him and began tickling. He laughed and squirmed away. I grabbed his hips and pulled him back. We collapsed on the bed, my hard cock pressed against his buttocks.

He stopped squirming. "Dad said you might want to have anal intercourse with me."

"He said what?"

"You might want to 3; oh, you know," he said with impatience, "Put it in my butt."

"I'm sure I'd enjoy it immensely, but you're too small for that."

"No, I'm not. Dad said he was smaller than me the first time his uncle did him. He said it hurt a lot the first time, but after that, it felt pretty good."

"Oh." I was not really sure what to say. My body wanted him. My cock had been throbbing ever since it came into contact with the soft flesh of his buttocks. But in my mind, I doubted I could do it without causing him too much discomfort. The thought of creating anything but pleasure in the life of this beautiful creature was beyond imagining.

He wiggled his butt, grinding himself against me.

I lifted myself off his slender frame. "Maybe it could wait until next time we get together. I want to be able to really get you ready. I don't think that will happen in the 20 minutes we have left today."

He sat up and said, "Then should I suck you again?"

Maybe it is in the nature of 13 year olds to be so event- oriented. "Let's snuggle for a while and see what we end up doing."

The End

#2
A Place to Hang Out

While his hooker-mother is working, her 10 year old son is entertained by his neighbor.

Chad (10yo) and Mark Crawford (41yo)
Mb – cons oral anal mast – first

1

When I was 41, I got divorced from my wife of 10 years and moved into a dumpy apartment in a poor section of northeastern Portland. The apartment complex had a lot of single parents in it. One day after work as I walked up the outdoor steps to my second story apartment, Chad, a beautiful little urchin from the complex, sat at the top of the steps smoking a cigarette. Chad wore a baggy unwashed pair of gray jogging pants that had been crudely cut off just above the knees and nothing else. He had long blond hair that came to his shoulders in curls. A stray, thick curl dangled across one eye. He jumped when he saw that he had been caught smoking.

But he was a tough little kid, and he recovered quickly. I know he had worse things to worry about than me. "Hello, Mr. Crawford," he chirped, sliding to one side to give me room to pass. He still looked concerned that I might yell at him.

I had met him the week before, along with his wild and barely-20 year old mother, Cyndy. Cyndy, who had been wearing a tube top, wasted her time by making a pass at me. They lived in the apartment right next to mine.

I paused at the top step and gazed down at him. Skinny as he was, his bent-over stomach had little wrinkles of skin with no fat. "Hi, Chad." He seemed surprised and pleased that I knew his name. "You are a little young to be smoking, aren't you?" I asked in a cheerful voice.

He must have sensed my friendliness because he stuck his chest out and said, "Naw. I'll be 11 next month."

"Where's your mom?"

He looked up warily, and I gazed into his dazzling blue eyes. Freckles nearly as big as polka dots covered his nose and forehead. "Beats me. She never came home last night."

I wondered how anyone, especially a mother, could ignore such a cute kid. "You had anything to eat today?"

"A peanut butter sandwich."

"Anything else?"

"Ain't nothing else. Just peanut butter, moldy bread and cigarettes. Mom doesn't shop much."

"Want to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Oh, I couldn't," he said. He gazed across the parking lot.

"That's too bad. I hate to eat alone. And I think it would be great to get to know you." I paused. He continued to stare into the distance. "If you change your mind, just knock on my door."

As I fumbled with my keys, he stood and said, "I guess I could 3;" He stood. "Let me grab a shirt."

"Don't bother. It's hot and I don't have air conditioning."

He padded eagerly into my apartment on bare feet. I lived in a studio unit – a bedroom, kitchen, and living room all in one space. It was identical to the one his mother and he lived in. I wondered how they kept from driving each other crazy. Or how they got any privacy.

I grabbed a couple cans of Coke from the refrigerator. He stood just inside the doorway, looking a little lost, the cigarette still in his hand. "Get rid of the smoke, okay?"

"Sure," he said, walking outside and flicking it over the rail. I handed him the Coke. "Thanks, Mr. Crawford," he said with a huge smile that showed a chipped incisor. He took a huge gulp that made his eyes water.

"Call me Mark. You can sit anywhere you want while I get some burgers cooking." He sat at the kitchen table and watched me carefully, now taking ginger little sips from the coke. After I had the burgers in the frying pan and frozen fries in the oven, I said, "Man, is it ever hot. Going to get worse with the oven on. Mind if I get rid of some of these clothes?"

He did a double take. "No problem," he uttered enthusiastically.

I went over to the bed side and kicked off my tennis shoes. I talked about baseball, especially the Seattle Mariners, as I stripped off my shirt. He stared without any sign of embarrassment. I'm 5' 10" [1.78 m] and 150 pounds [68 kg]. All my life I had been skinny until I neared 40 years of age. Then my stomach began to soften and bulge a little. Still, I looked a lot better than most 41 year olds, so I felt comfortable having him stare. My stomach and chest are covered with a see-through downy blanket of mostly-straight brown hair. Since he continued to stare, I decided to show him a little more and dropped my pants around my ankles. I walked over to the stove to check on the burgers, absently scratching the crotch of my BVD's. He continued to watch me in silence. I went to my dresser to select a loose pair of cotton shorts. I didn't put a shirt on.

I got him to open up more during dinner. He talked about a range of topics, especially skateboarding, go-cart racing, and motorcycles. He ate quickly. Probably he hadn't eaten a hot meal for quite a while. Throughout dinner, I stared at the beautiful, nearly translucent skin that seemed stretched too tight across his bony chest. His nipples were tiny brown dots – small as beauty marks. A thin, pink scar started at his chest and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jogging shorts. It looked like the work of a crude surgeon, but I found it alluring. "I've noticed that you have a scar. Appendix surgery?"

He blushed and looked down. "A couple years ago one of my mom's boyfriend went nuts and tried to skin me alive. He's in prison." He glanced up quickly and his voice lightened as he distanced himself from the painful memory. "Ugly, ain't it."

"No. Actually, I kind of like it." I wanted to touch it, but lacked the courage to ask. "And the rest of you is so beautiful – handsome, I mean – that somehow it makes you look even more interesting."

"You mean you like it?"

"Don't get me wrong, I hate that guy for hurting you. If I could make it go away, I would. But I think you are a very special kid, and since it's part of you, I like it."

He tilted his head to one side and sat looking shy and adorable. After we finished eating he said, "I'll wash dishes."

"That's okay," I said, still staring at his chest and stomach. I noticed that he had been checking out my bare chest, as well.

"Really. I want to. To pay you back for the meal."

"No, thanks," I said quickly. After a moment, I added, "There is something you could do, though."

"What?"

"Pose for a couple of pictures."

He looked surprised. "Me? Why would you want to take a picture of me?"

"Because I like to take pictures of cute boys and men. And you are very cute."

"You really think so?" He sat up straight. "You do, don't you?"

"Definitely. I could look at you all day long. Maybe if I had a couple pictures, I would look at them all day long."

He blushed again. "You don't need no picture. You can look at me anytime you want."

I got my 35mm camera from the closet shelf. It was already loaded with black and white film. "Stand over by the window." He held himself rigid as he posed. After taking the shot, I gave him more specific instructions on how to pose. He tried to comply, but he was still too nervous to give me a good shot. As I praised his good looks and the nice job he was doing, he relaxed.

"Will you pose for a couple of seated pictures?"

"Sure," he said. "Take as many as you want." I put him in several poses at the kitchen chair, then on the sofa. The poses slowly became more sexually suggestive. How about laying on the bed on your side. That's it. Now raise one knee and put your hand on that thigh. Good. Now support your head with the other hand." I took several more shots.

I set the camera down.

"Are you done?" he asked, looking disappointed.

"Well, those are all the poses I can think of – at least with you dressed like that."

"Do you want me to change my clothes?" he asked, sitting upright on the bed.

"Actually," I said, feeling my pulse race, "I was thinking of less clothes rather than different ones."

A long silence stretched between us. "You want me naked?" he asked in surprise.

"Well, that would be really cool."

He nibbled on his lip. "But why?"

"Because I think you are sexy."

"Sexy. You mean like a girl?"

"Sort of. You know how some men look at pictures of naked girls, like in Playboy magazine?" I swallowed hard, knowing I was taking a big risk. "I'd like to look at a naked picture of you."

He frowned in deep thought. Without speaking, he stood and stripped naked in one swift motion. He stood boldly before me, his butt against the edge of my bed, offering his little-boy genitals to my lusty gaze. I was surprised at how small his and perfectly formed his genitals were. His cock, thinner than a pencil, was less than an inch [2½ cm] long and had a delicate pink-colored glans at the end. His balls, pink in their hairless sac, hung low but were only the size of raspberries. He had no pubic hair. The scar that began on his chest ended atop the bump his pubic bone made over his penis. Another two inches [5 cm] lower and the boy's cock would have been cut.

After staring for at least a minute, I remembered my camera and took a picture.

"Am I too ugly?"

"When will you get it? I think you are beautiful as an angel."

"Is my dick too small?"

"It's just the right size for a 10 year old." I directed him to some more standing and seated poses, including some shots of his smooth, rounded buttocks.

He was sitting on the bed, both knees raised so I could see the hint of his anus, when he asked, "When guys look at Playboy, don't they get boners?"

"Yes, I'll bet most guys do get aroused."

"Do you have a boner from looking at me?" He was staring at the huge lump in my baggy cotton shorts. It was my turn to blush. "Yes," I humbly admitted.

"Cool," he said. "Can I see it?"

"Oh, that's not a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because," I answered.

He didn't argue, but as he waited for me to load a new roll of film, his boy-cock became erect, straining upward to its proud 2 and a quarter inches [5¾ cm]. I quickly snapped a picture of his erection, then asked him to lie on the bed on his stomach. I instructed him to spread his legs and took several more pictures. He was posed on his knees with his cheek on the pillow so his butt stuck up in the air when he asked, "When guys look at Playboy, don't they think about how good it would feel to put their boners in the woman's pussy?"

"Yes, I suppose most men would think that."

"But I don't have a pussy."

I would have laughed out loud but the dear boy sounded so serious. "That's right," I said simply.

He kept his ass in the air. "One of the kids I hang out with, Derek, told me his older brother keeps trying to talk him into letting him fuck his ass."

My cock had never ached so much. "Does he let him?"

"No, Derek says he ain't queer." Chad wiggled his butt. "Can a grown-up's cock really fit in a boy's butthole?"

"I guess so." I set the camera down. "I guess it hurts a lot, but if the man is gentle and the boy is willing, it can definitely fit."

There was a long pause.

"Are you done taking pictures?" he asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"Yeah, I think I am." We could hear his mother moving around in the apartment next door. Chad got dressed and thanked me before he left. The moment he was out the door, I pulled my shorts down and stoked my cock about six times. I began ejaculating all over the table.

I opened my eyes when I heard the door open. In my haste I had neglected to lock it. Chad stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. I turned my back and started to pull my shorts up as he slammed the door. I thought about going after him, then realized how stupid that would be. Instead I got some Kleenex and began wiping my semen off the table.

2

Around 8:00 the next evening I heard loud voices out on the landing. I stepped out to see three tough looking men arguing with Chad's mother. Chad stood next to her, sort of half in and half out of the door. He looked scared and angry.

"The little snot can sit outside the door. Hell, he can even join us, but you've got to let us in, baby. We all need to party!" The speaker was a flabby, bearded man with a sleeveless denim jacket and a tattoo of an eagle on his biceps.

"Let's go to your place," his mother said in a weak voice.

I cleared my throat. "Cyndy, is everything okay?" I would never have said anything and risk getting chewed up by these three rough looking men if Chad were not stuck in the middle.

"Yeah, sure," she said, instantly dismissing me.

I started to close the door but stopped when Chad called, "Wait!"

He padded over to me on bare feet and said, "These guys want to fuck mom. She want to let them, too, but I'm in the way. Can I hang out at your place for awhile?"

"I'd like that."

He went to his mother and spoke softly to her. The men had already pushed their way into her apartment. "How long can he stay?" she called to me.

"As long as he wants," I replied with a friendly smile. My cock began to blossom.

"All night?" she asked hopefully.

Nothing could have made me happier. "If he wants to." Without saying goodbye to her, he bounded over to me. "Don't you want to get anything? Toothbrush? Change of clothes? Pajamas?"

"No way am I going in there with those assholes!" he said angrily.

Chad wasn't inside with me for 10 minutes before he asked, "Can I see the pictures you took of me?"

He didn't look disappointed, just nervous. A few minutes later he said. "You told me that you wanted to look at them."

"I do."

He seemed to lose his nerve because he shrugged his shoulders and sat down in front of the television. I took off my shirt and shoes and sat down beside him. Several times I caught him looking at my bare chest. Pretending to be casual, he leaned his head against my shoulder. I lifted my arm to engulf his slender shoulders, and he snuggled his head tight against my chest. We sat like that through two sit-coms.

"Well 3;" He picked at a splintered fingernail. "You don't have pictures to look at, but I guess that's okay since I'm right here for you to look at."

It was the first time I've ever had a boy make a pass at me. I didn't know how to respond. Lamely, I said, "The pictures could never be as beautiful as you are in person." Looking back, I wish I had said something like, "yeah, but in the pictures you are naked." I'm just not clever or brave enough.

"I have to pee," I said, rising. He stood, too. I left the bathroom door open and he stood off to one side so he could see me standing over the bowl, my dick in my hand. When I walked back next to him, Chad said, "Boy you sure have a big one." He tugged at the front of his jeans.

"Maybe you would be more comfortable in your pajamas."

He wrinkled his nose. "I told you I just wear my underpants."

"That's what I mean."

"Oh," he said softly. "I don't want to go to bed this early," he said.

"Neither do I."

He smiled, then took off his shirt and pants. He wore Fruit of the Loom underwear, the worst brand ever made. The leg elastic wears out too fast and they creep up. I stripped to my BVD's. My cock, which was rock hard, angled off to one side and was wedged just beneath the elastic of the waistband. A wet spot a the end of it made the cotton shorts seem invisible.

Chad stood facing me. "Wow. Did you shoot more of that stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"That stuff you shot all over the table. Sperms."

"No. Sometimes it just leaks a little clear slippery stuff when it gets hard."

He looked a little like and angel and a little like a boy raised by wolves. I tousled his hair as I walked past. I dished up some ice cream for each of us and sat a the kitchen table.

"Want to sit on my lap?"

Without hesitation, he scurried onto my thighs. As he settled in, rubbing has butt against my straining erection, he giggled and said, "Your leg hairs itch. Seems like you got hair everywhere."

"Don't have any hair on my tongue."

He laughed. "Show me!" When I stuck out my tongue, he laughed harder.

"Don't have any hair on the bottoms of my feet."

"Show me!" He almost rolled off my lap. I lifted my foot and showed him.

"Where else?" he asked.

"Well, there's a spot on top of my head 3;"

"Show me!" he demanded. Then without waiting for me, he stretched up, kneeling on my thigh so he could look at the top of my head. "Hey, you still have some hair." Then the giggling started again. "But not much."

I started to tickle his ribs. After a moment, he looked up at me with his sparkling eyes. "Bet you don't have hair on your dick."

Thinking he meant my pubic hair, I said, "Yes, I do."

"Show me," he asked in a throaty voice.

I got a spoonful of ice cream and held it to his lips. He gulped it, then repeated, "Show me."

"You know I have hair there."

"Bet a hundred dollars you don't."

"I don't have a hundred dollars," I replied.

He managed to bump into my erection with his elbow. "Liar. Tell you what, if you win the bet I'll clean your whole house."

"And if you win?"

He pressed his cheek against my collar bone. "You take me to the ocean. I've always wanted to do that." He lived less an hour's drive from the coast. A pang of pity gripped me. Then his palm rubbed my hairy stomach for a moment before dropping down to tentatively touched the wet cotton where my glans pressed against my underwear. I sucked in my breath. "Show me," he repeated.

I whispered in his ear, my body jingling with the electricity created by the weight of his small hand on my glans, "But Chad, it's my body. I know you'll lose."

"That's what you think," he chirped, his mood lightening, perhaps because he knew he had me like putty in his hands. He lifted the waistband of my shorts and I felt the chill on my glans as its wetness was exposed to the air.

"Wow, your dick is really big and 3;" He wrapped his fingers around the shaft just beneath the glans. "I win! There's not a single hair on it."

I was in no mood for arguing at that point, but I managed to croak, "What are you talking about. It's really hairy down there."

"Sure it's hairy all around it. But there is no hair on your dick." He rubbed his hand across my glans for emphasis.

"Hey, that's not fair. You tricked me!" I rubbed his buttocks through his briefs.

He got eye to eye with me and said, "You don't have to take me to a movie. It's okay."

I looked into the somber eyes, eyes that delicately and resiliently held much pain. Tears came into my eyes. "Chad, I'd love to take you to a movie – bet or not."

"Really? Cool!" He started moving his hand up and down the shaft. "I want to see you shoot the white stuff again – like you did on the table yesterday."

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"I wish I could do that – make sperms I mean."

I moved my arm around him and rubbed the crotch of his briefs. "Well, you won't cum for a couple years yet, but you can still orgasm."

"What's that?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on jacking me off.

I slipped two fingers within the leg opening of his ancient briefs. I was rewarded by contact with his hot, rigid cock. He flinched.

"Did I hurt you?"

"God, no. That feels great!"

I returned to his earlier question. "An orgasm happens when the good feelings in your cock get really intense. It's the best thing you could ever feel. If you're old enough, the orgasm is when you shoot your cum." I rubbed across the wrinkled walnut of his scrotum and he arched his back. With my other hand I fed him a spoonful of ice cream. "Do you want to have an orgasm?"

"Sure." While continuing to rub lightly across his genitals, I also teased at his thick, pliable nipples. He definitely liked what we were doing together. I hadn't really noticed he was no longer jacking me off until he said, "I'm sorry I'm not doing a good job, but it feels so good I keep forgetting to keep my hand moving."

"I want to make you feel good, Chad. After you orgasm, maybe you'll want to give me one." The small hand stopped moving my foreskin, but his grip on my cock remained firm. As I began gently coaxing the tight skin of his shaft toward the circumcised tip with my thumb and forefinger, he squirmed his butt around.

"Just relax and trust me, Chad. When you orgasm, it will be the best thing you've ever felt."

"It already is," he choked.

His briefs restricted my range of motion, but just as I prepared to ask him to remove them, I got an idea. I saw the liquid in the bowl from the melted ice cream. I pulled my hand from the leg opening of his briefs. Moving deftly, I tugged on the waistband of his shorts, stretching it outward and dumped the cold but melted ice cream inside.

He leaped to his feet. "Jesus!" I laughed and he looked peeved. "why the hell did you do that?" He stood stiffly, his hands hovering near his waistband as ice cream slowly stained the front of the briefs. Small trails of the brown liquid coursed down the inside of his thigh, escaping from the leg opening I had just been stretching to get access to his beautiful, little cock.

"I wanted some ice cream, and I thought of a more fun way to eat it." I held my hand out and he took it, his frown fading.

"What do you mean?"

I put my hands on his hips and lifted him to a sitting position at the edge of the table. As I bent down, he figured out my intention. "Well hurry up because its freezing!" His hands were already on the back of my head.

I tugged on the waistband, licking the ice cream on his abdomen before working lower.

"That tickles," he complained in a voice that was not really complaining. I licked the puddle that formed around his balls and thighs. Then I worked the shorts off his body. He lifted his hips to assist me. I took his genitals – cock and balls – into my mouth in one gulp. His hands clenched my hair.

I sealed my lips around him and sucked hard. Then I used my tongue to swirl around the glans and the underside of his shaft. In a couple of seconds, his hips came to life. I lifted my head, not wanting him to have his first-ever orgasm sitting on a kitchen table.

"Don't stop," he whined.

I smiled and kissed his nose before picking him up and carrying him to the bed. I placed him carefully on his back then slid down to suck his cock once again. His hands found my head immediately, and he held on while I did my very best to make this 10 year old boy feel manly pleasure.

"Oh! What's happening?" His hips began to bounce like a sting of firecrackers dancing off the pavement. I lifted my head to watch his adorable face as passion claimed him for the first time.

When he opened his eyes a minute later, he smiled. "Man that felt fucking fantastic!" He looked up at the ceiling then back at me. "Thanks."

"It was a pleasure. You have a great cock, Chad. You're going to grow into quite a man.

"No wonder everyone is always talking about sex!" He looked at my cock, which in the absence of his caress, was once again straining against the waistband of my BVDs. "When I do that to you, won't I get sperms – cum – in my mouth?"

"You can just use your hand, if you want. Or I can warn you so you can move away before it shoots."

"Maybe you just do the thing Derek's brother does."

"Chad, I can't think of anything I'd rather do than make love to you, but it would hurt you, and I don't want to do that."

"Derek says it ain't so bad."

"You told me Derek said no to him."

"Sorry that I lied, but I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone."

I lay on my back next to him. Chad got to his knees and sat across my erection. He looked down at my face with an impish grin.

I grunted. "So why did he tell you?" His naked buttocks squirmed on the bulge in my underwear. I had been so hot for so long, my balls ached.

Before answering, he pinched my nipple. I moaned in appreciation, and he took the hint, pinching and scraping his fingernail across my nubs. "His brother wanted me to join them. I got a little freaked out, though. Haven't seen Derek since."

He moved off me to remove my underpants. Then he sat back down. "Put it in me."

"I can't hurt you, Chad. I love you too much for that."

"You love me?"

"From the moment I saw you. I'm sorry if that upsets you."

"I love you, too, but I'm not used to people loving me." He wiggled his butt, nearly sending me over the edge. "Derek said if you use something slippery it doesn't hurt as much."

"Maybe some other time we can do it. Right now, I'd like you to jack me off."

He licked up my cock, which dripped of pre-cum and pressed it against his butt. It was slippery and slid off target. "You really want to do this, don't you?"

"Yeah."

I sighed. "Wait here." I scrambled into the bathroom and grabbed the Vaseline. I slicked my cock with it, then said, "Roll onto your side and pull your top leg us so your knee touches your chest." I moved in behind him and smeared a fingerful of Vaseline on his crack.

He craned his head to look back at me and said, "Hey, that feels good."

I pressed my index finger against his tiny little rosebud. It slid in with quite a bit of resistance, but a moment later, he relaxed. "This is wild. No one ever touched me there before."

"It's a good sign that you like this part. Eventually you may like being fucked. But for now, it's going to be unpleasant." I moved my finger in wide circle and was amazed at how elastic his sphincter was. I fingered him for another minute, then said, "I've got to shoot and you need to be loosened up more. Maybe I could put it between your thighs and dry hump you."

"No. Just do it." He craned around in frustration. "You think I'm a baby. I can take a little pain, you know."

"Sorry," I said, thinking of his scars and what it must have felt like to have someone try to skin you. Normally, that would have been enough to make me lose all interest in sex. But it was the first time in my life I was naked and in bed with a beautiful boy.

I touched my cock to his anus and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I pressed against the hot little hole, but didn't gain access. I felt like I was right on the verge of orgasm. "Listen, I'm going to cum before I get inside. You have me so hot I could die of a heart attack."

"Push harder," he said beginning to sound quite angry at me.

My conscience took a break and I jabbed at him. Only the glans went inside but that was enough to get me off. I moaned and wriggled against him as I pumped my seed into his rectum. When I relaxed I realized he hadn't even cried out in pain. Still inside him, I lay close and tickled at his ear. "You okay?" I asked.

"It hurts at first, but not now."

"Well, I'm already done. Want me to pull out?"

"I feel really close to you. Do you still like me?"

I kissed his ear. "I love you. Can we snuggle like this for awhile, with my cock in your ass. It's like we're connected. That's as close as two people can get."

We lay connected for hours. Sometime in the middle of the night, I awakened, realizing Chad was awake and uncomfortable. Then I noticed for the first time the sounds coming from his next door apartment. The bed was banging against the wall and a woman (his mother?) groaned and swore like a wild animal. Chad could tell I was awake, because he said, "She likes getting fucked."

I ran my hand soothingly across his stomach and chest. "How do you feel about that?"

"It's her business, I guess. And after tonight, it makes more sense to me why she likes it. But why does she have to hang out with total losers?"

I couldn't have agreed with him more, but I asked, "Why do you call them losers?"

"All they want to do is hurt her. They spit on her and beat her and stuff. Why can't she find someone who loves her 3;?"

I struggled for something to say. After the wall banging stopped and we had lain in silence for a couple minutes, he added, " 3;like I did."

"I don't know, Chad. It's usually pretty easy to find someone to fuck with. It's a lot harder to find someone to make love with."

He scratched at his crotch and wiggled his ass. My cock, flaccid but firmly squeezed by his sphincter, twitched in response. "I think it is getting big again," he observed.

"Want me to take it out."

"No. I want to stay like this all night long."

"Okay."

I did stay inside him all night long. And had three more orgasms inside him. I maybe gave him a dozen orgasms in my fingertips. In the morning he was in the bathroom for a very long time. Then we showered together and ate breakfast in the nude.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked.

"Aren't you going to make me go home?"

"Chad, anytime I'm home you are welcome here. In fact, I'll give you a key in case you need somewhere to go and I'm not here."

He beamed. "Cool. I've always wanted a place to hang out."

"Oh, I forgot about losing our bet. What movie do you want to go see?"

He leaped to his feet, which made his cock bounce up and slap his belly. "Wow! Thanks!"

I repeated, "Which one would you like to see?'

"I don't care. I've just always wanted to see one."

"You've never seen a movie?" His exuberance faded into insecurity. Quickly I added, "I'd love to take you to your first movie. That'll make it special for me too."

Over the next three years, I had the opportunity to share a number of 'firsts' in Chad's life. Though he's in college and is engaged to a sorority girl, I love him still.

The End

#3
Knot Alone

Mike meets a 12 year old boy with a problem, a very embarrassing problem.

Randy (12yo) and Mike (adult)
Mb – cons oral anal – bdsm

Nederlandse vertaling: Alleen maar een knoop

Randy Manning sat on the front steps of his house with his legs held tight together. He was in a state of panic and the throbbing in his balls was getting worse. Like many inner city 12 year olds, he wore a tattered and faded tee shirt, grimy, baggy cut-offs, and leather Nike tennis shoes. He had no idea how to get out of his predicament. He tried to fight back his tears as people walked past him on the sidewalk.

Mike Evers felt a little light-headed and a little sore as he walked home from an afternoon with a horny top he'd been seeing for a few weeks. Jake was a fucking machine, and he plugged into Mike a couple afternoons a week. Taking his rough treatment was sort of a penance (though a pleasurable one) for his strong attraction to slender boys. Just as he was thinking of it, Mike saw a slender 12 or 13 year old on crumbling cement steps who was crying into his hands. He paused on the sidewalk directly in front of the boy.

"Are you okay?"

Randy looked up in surprise. Mostly any man that talked to him was poor, ugly, and mean. He was going to say something to get rid of the man, but he noticed the man was neither poor nor ugly nor mean. He didn't answer at all.

Mike sat down next to the kid. "Tell me what's wrong."

Randy looked around. Across the street, two squirrels were chasing each other. A few pedestrians moved swiftly down the sidewalks. "I don't know what to do. But I can't tell you."

"You can tell me. I won't promise I will be able to help, but at least I will listen." He sensed the kid was desperate about something. Mike gently put his arm around the urchin, becoming aware of how thin the kid really was.

"I can't tell you – it's too embarrassing." Randy sniffled, then rubbed his hand across his mouth and nose.

Mike studied the boy. He had black hair that was shaggy from not being cut for a long time. The kid was thin as a blade of grass. He had acorn brown eyes with thick, dark lashes, delicately shaped eyebrows, and a thin, straight nose. His thighs and calves were thin and slightly curved, his knees scabbed and unwashed. He wore no socks. His feet looked disproportionately large.

"My name is Mike. What's yours?"

Randy had gotten control of himself and sat straighter. He leaned into the man's strong arm and smelled his deodorant. "Randy." He was feeling a lot better already.

"Well, Randy, I'm a total stranger, and I'm a nice guy. What have you got to lose by confiding in me?"

Randy thought about it for a moment, then blurted out, "I tied a rope and I can't get the knot out."

Mike thought for a moment. "Why not cut it with a knife?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that!"

"Why not?"

"I'd cut myself for sure."

"Oh." Mike thought about it. Was the kid afraid he'd cut his finger with the knife? It didn't make a lot of sense. The next question seemed inevitable to him. "What is the rope tied to?"

Randy heard the question he was most afraid of. It was like the guy could read his mind. "Promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise."

"Right here," the kid said, pointing to his crotch.

"Oh." Mike swallowed hard, taken totally by surprise. It was like heaven was smiling upon him. He tried not too sound too eager. "Perhaps I could untie it for you."

The boy looked up hopefully. "Would you?" Randy stood up, being careful not to put any extra pressure on his balls. When the man nodded, he added, "Come on inside."

"No one else is home?"

"There's just Mom, and she won't be home for hours." He led Mike into the house. Mike held his breath as he stepped inside. The place was filthy. Newspapers, clothes, and dirty dishes were everywhere he looked. The stale air was stifling.

"You should open up some windows, Randy."

"Mom's afraid of getting ripped off again, so she won't let me." He stood in the middle of the messy room and spread his arms. With a shy smile he announced, "I ain't much good at cleaning."

"I don't mind," he said softly. The man and the boy stood in the living room facing each other expectantly. "Maybe we should go into your bedroom."

Randy led the way up the narrow wooden stairs. His bedroom had a mattress on the floor and cardboard boxes for a dresser. A wooden chair sat before a formica-topped desk. He had a couple of heavy metal posters on the wall. The tape had let loose on the corner of one of them. Laying on the unmade bed were a couple of wooden clothespins, a scissors, and a small spool of nylon packaging string. Dirty clothes were in heaps around the room, and Mike allowed himself to look at the discarded dingy underpants – Fruit of the Loom. He would have liked to take a pair home with him.

Again, they stood, each waiting for the other to say or do something. "Show me the knot," Mike said at last.

The boy's hands hovered in mid-air for a moment, then he held his breath and looked away as he slid his cut-offs down. They were a little too big for Randy and fell around his ankles. He glanced at Mike, then looked away again, his cheeks burning as he slid his worn underwear down, also.

Six inches [15 cm] of string dangled down from beneath the cuff of the kid's oversized tee shirt. Randy pulled the shirt up to reveal his genitals. Randy's scrotum was stretched into a tight little ball of smooth, purple flesh. His limp uncut boy-fcock hung off to one side beneath semi-circle of hair that was developing over his pubic bone.

"That looks painful," Mike said softly.

"Yeah, sort of. Do you think you can untie it?"

Mike slipped to his knees and lightly touched the stretched flesh. Though Mike had never touched the genitals of a pubescent boy, he had entertained numerous masturbation fantasies regarding that exact topic. He lifted the balls, which had just begun their growth toward adult proportions, and looked for the knot.

The string had been wound around his scrotum at least a dozen times, and the knot was on the underside. It looked at though it had been pulled pretty tight. Mike fumbled with the knot. Then he realized he could easily untie it; however, he was in no hurry to do it. With his other hand he picked up the boy's inch [2½ cm] long penis under the ruse of moving it out of the way. He leaned in to study the knot and the delicious flesh surrounding it. He smelled the boy's acrid sweat and realized he would have to adjust himself within his briefs or risk his cock breaking off.

As he fumbled with the boy's bound testicles, he asked, "Where did you get the idea to try this?"

Randy experienced a stab of fear as he felt his little cock twitch. He knew he would die of embarrassment if he got a boner. Unfortunately, Mike's fingertips were rubbing across it and squeezing it as he held it out of the way.

"Oh, I don't know," he said evasively, deciding not to watch the man's fingers touching his private parts. Watching was increasing his arousal because both the thought and the feel of the situation were exciting.

"And the clothespins – were they for your nipples or for your foreskin?" Mike pinched lightly at the boy's wrinkle of foreskin with one hand and at a pink nipple with the other hand as he said this.

The pleasure at both locations served to send him to an almost instant erection. Randy was surprised the man could guess his secret. It added to his shame and his arousal. The man still had a grip on his cock, even though he had gotten a boner. He searched for an answer. He certainly wasn't going to say "Both," which would have been the truth. Finally he stammered, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't be embarrassed. You'd be surprised how many people like to play games like this." He brought both hands to the knot, picking at it with his fingernails. "But you are so young. How'd you get the idea for it? Did someone show you?"

"No." He looked back down at his crotch. His slender cock had extended to it's full 4¾ inches [12 cm].

"Look, I'm having trouble getting it out. Why don't you lie on your back and pull your legs up. I'll have better access that way."

"O-okay." As the kid lay back, Mike reached down the front of his jeans and adjusted himself to take the pressure off his erection. The kid didn't fail to notice, and his mind started to race. Mike was a handsome and kind man. Could it be that Mike found his skinny little body attractive? And he had continued to hold his cock even after it had gotten stiff.

The hands came back to work at the knot. Randy pulled his knees close to his chest and held onto them. Mike intentionally let his little finger touch the boy's anus, which was small and rosy and clearly virginal. Mike decided to be a little more assertive. "You still haven't answered my question."

Randy couldn't think of anything to say except the truth. "I found a magazine in the trash in our alley. It was called Bound and Gagged."

"I know that magazine," Mike said, again taking the boy's cock in his hand, though it was no longer in the way of his access to the knot. He didn't think the kid would complain. He watched the boy gasping for breath as he slowly peeled the foreskin back to reveal the exquisite glans. "Sometimes I buy it and jack off while I read it."

"Really?" The kid asked, raising up a little. Mike loosened the knot and began slowly unwinding the rope. "You jack off?"

"Sure. Unless I can find a guy who will use his mouth. Or better yet, bend over and let me fuck him."

"Wow," the kid said, feeling brave enough to look at the heavenly sight of his little boner being massaged by the man's masterful fingers. "Did you ever let anyone tie you up?"

"Oh, no. I'm not into that sort of thing," Mike said. He noted the look of disappointment that passed over the boy's face. Then he added, "I much prefer to be the one who ties the guy up."

Randy's eyes grew wide as he stared at the sexy man. He made a noise when Mike rubbed across his anus. When the rubbing continued for a moment longer, he lay his head back and closed his eyes.

Mike saw the kid's response and pressed a little with his finger. The dry hole didn't budge. When the kid still didn't resist, Mike added, "Maybe you'd like me to tie you up sometime."

The boy's head raised again and his eyes flew open. "You want to?"

Mike smiled. He completely freed the twine and the boy's balls began to loose their purplish tint almost immediately. But Mike did not release his hold on the boy's cock, and Randy did not lower his legs. "I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to. And I wouldn't do anything to injure you or leave marks on you."

"You would really tie me up?" Randy just didn't believe this totally cool scene was happening to him.

"If you want me to."

Still, he would be totally at Mike's mercy. Maybe he was a psycho or something. "I don't know," he said cautiously. But the man sure didn't seem crazy.

Mike pumped slowly on the boy's erection, working the foreskin across the glans. "I won't hurt you – just use you."

Randy sort of stretched back, his body twitching from intense stimulation. "Go ahead, if you want," he breathed, rolling his head to one side. He still held his legs up to expose himself to the man.

"How much time till your mom comes home?"

"Shit, she never comes home before dark – if she comes home at all. Don't worry about it." He was so crazy with lust, that he thought he would let the man do anything.

Mike let go of the kid and waited until Randy lowered his legs and sat up. "I could tie you up and then just do anything I want to you, but I don't want you to get uptight and freak out. I want us both to enjoy this. I'm going to tie you up. Then play with your naked body a little. Then I'm going to make you lick my cock and my balls. You okay with this so far?"

The boy nodded his assent. He could hardly believe it. He was going to suck this man's cock! He had fantasized about doing that ever since he had found the magazine.

"There's more. You ever had your ass fucked, Randy?"

"Not yet," he answered simply. He wished the man would stop talking and get down to business. He'd read about ass fucking in the magazine. He knew it would hurt a lot, but it was such a weird thing to let someone do to you, that it gave him a supercharge of lust. He wanted to try it. He wanted to try everything.

"You want me to do those things to you?" he asked, running his hand from Randy's knee to his balls, giving the boy gooseflesh.

Randy shivered. "Yes."

He prodded the boy's balls, which were still pulled tight. "This is sort of a game. Part of the rules are that you only speak to me to answer a question. And whenever you speak, you call me 'sir.' It's okay to moan and groan – in fact, I prefer it." Mike stood up. "Go sit on the chair," he said in a commanding tone.

Randy stood so quickly he nearly lost his balance. He pulled out the chair and sat down. Mike picked up the rope and knelt next to the chair. "If you get too scared or if something hurts too much, you say the password. . . . Um, let's see. The password is blue, which was the color of your balls when I first saw them. Say it."

"Blue," he said quickly. After a moment's silence, he added, "Sir."

"Good." Mike efficiently cut four lengths of the nylon cord. He tied each of the boy's bony ankles to a leg of the chair. As he tied the boy's clammy hands behind his back (and the back of the chair), he said, "I am the master and you are the lowly, helpless slave. Your only purpose is to provide me with pleasure. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Randy replied. The ropes weren't very tight, and he felt a little relieved that he could probably wiggle out of them if he really wanted to.

He finished tying the boy's hands and stepped back. "Are they too tight?"

"No, sir."

He rubbed the boy's body, running his hands along the ridges of his ribs, across his rounded tummy. He paused to dig his fingernail into the boy's navel and was rewarded by the kid's twitch and low moan. He worked his fingertips into the scrotum, stretching Randy's hairless balls away from his groin. The kid's cock was rock hard. As he pulled to the threshold of pain, the kid's knees reflexively came together.

Mike got two more lengths of cord and tied the kid's legs just beneath the knee so he couldn't do that again. Then he cut another piece or cord and tied it in a slip knot. He fitted it over the little balls and pulled it tight.

He tugged on the rope until the kid groaned, then leaned close and said, "You're mine now. My little slut." The kid was looking at him with a compelling blend of anxiety and lust.

Mike got the clothespins off the bed and attached them to Randy's tiny nipples. He had to stretch them out to get enough skin to clip them on. The kid was breathing erratically and rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder.

Then Mike got one of the boy's shoes and tied it to the string dangling from the kid's balls. He set the length so the shoe did not reach the floor in front of the chair. When he released it, the kid made a series of sound: "Ngh. Ngh. Ngh."

He knew it needed to be a short session, so he said, "Open your mouth."

Randy did so immediately. As he put his index finger past the thin lips and somewhat crooked teeth, he said, "Keep your teeth off my finger. Pretend it's a cock." He moved his finger across the boy's tongue, then edged it back further in his throat. When Randy gagged, Mike withdrew his finger. As soon as the boy recovered, he reinserted his finger and repeated the process.

Mike stepped back and stripped off his shirt and shoes. He pushed at the clothespins, again making the boy groan. He lightly flicked the boy's finger-sized erection with his fingernail, and was rewarded with a moan that was more pleasure than pain.

"You ready to see a real cock?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said with eager respect.

Mike undressed and stood before the boy with his dripping cock inches from his face. Randy stared at the fiery cock, his mouth gaping, his eyes glazed with lust. When Mike stepped closer, the boy tipped his head back and opened his mouth wider. Mike grabbed his hair and moved to let his erection smack against the boy's cheeks. Then he tipped the kid's chair back so it rested at an angle with the back of it pressed against the desk. He straddled the kid and lowered his balls against Randy's chin.

"Lick my balls."

Randy really wasn't thinking very much by this point. His lust had risen beyond any previous level, yet he had not had an orgasm. In fact, his cock had gotten almost no attention. Still it throbbed. The smell from the man's crotch was strong and musky. A small part of him, still rational, knew that it wasn't a very clean place to put his mouth. That only added to his arousal as he licked Mike's balls with abandon.

Mike kicked at the shoe, making it swing so it sent flashes of pain all through the boy's abdomen as his balls were tugged. The kid ejaculated, sending a few spurts of nearly clear fluid across his rounded abdomen. Mike gathered the fluid on his finger and fed it to the boy. He smiled as the kid eagerly lapped all of his own semen off the man's fingers.

Then Mike tipped the chair back upright and fed his cock into the boy's eager face. Loud slurping noises accompanied the boy's soft moans of lust. Mike ignored the inexperienced scraping of teeth across his cock. Perhaps there would be time to teach the kid another day. Just in case there was only today, he wanted to shoot his load in the 12 year old's virgin ass.

"Does you mom have a bed I could tie you to?"

"Yes, sir."

Without any great effort, Mike picked the boy up, chair and all, and carried him down the hall to his mother's bedroom. Randy moaned as the tennis shoe bounced around, tugging at his tender balls. Mike wasn't sure if the kid had ever lost his erection, but he was sure it was at full strength as he set the chair in the middle of the room.

She had a four-poster, which was ideal for binding someone face down and spread-eagle. He lay the kid, still bound to the chair, face down ont he mattress and untied his hands. Within a minute he had tied one wrist to each of the posts at the head of the bed. He then untied the boy's feet and carefully removed the chair. The kid offered no resistance. Mike untied the rope around the boy's scrotum and then tied his ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed, pulling Randy's legs wide apart so access to his opening would not be restricted.

Then Mike sat on the bed and leaned close to whisper in Randy's ear. "Now you asshole is mine to use, and you can't do anything about it." Randy's eyes were glazed with lust and he panted for breath like an overheated dog. His hips moved sensuously, grinding against the bed. When Mike touched the small circle of pink tissue, the boy gasped and lifted his hips.

Without lubrication, he wormed his index finger inside the boy's incredibly tight passage, each new millimeter of progress accompanied by Randy's grunting and moaning. Mike's finger bumped something and at first he thought it was a turd. When it became clear it was not, he asked, "What is this?"

Randy quickly said, "Sorry, sir."

"What is it?"

"A hot dog, sir." The kid was humiliated to tears.

"You stuck a hot dog up your ass?"

"Yes, sir. I forgot about it when I couldn't get the knot untied. Sorry, sir."

"Use your muscles to push it out."

The kid's cheeks clamped tight and he grunted. The hot dog suddenly emerged and quickly slid all the way out, landing on the sheets. Mike said, "You deserve to be punished for this. What do you suggest?"

"I don't know, sir."

Mike picked up the slimy hot dog and brought it to Randy's face. "I think you should eat it."

Randy got a sort of dizzy look to him. His eyes fluttered. Then he opened his mouth. Mike fed it to him, waiting patiently for the kid to chew and swallow each small bite. Then he made Randy lick his slick fingers.

He searched the nightstand and found a sexual lubricant called Wet. He poured some on the boy's cleft and worked it in with his fingers. He pressed two fingers inside the boy, who was making a lot of noise, just as Mike preferred.

Mike was too turned on to wait any longer. He climbed onto the bed and slicked his cock with the lubricant. "By the way, the password is no longer valid. No matter what you say, I'm going to fuck you. If you relax and surrender yourself to me, you will enjoy yourself. If you fight it, it will hurt like hell."

Penetration came only after a lot of patience. The boy's lust and eagerness, enabled it to occur at all. He made a lot of noise, but never asked Mike to stop. It didn't take long for Mike to empty his seed inside the bound boy's fundament. And even as he poised in repose, keeping his slackening cock buried inside the boy, the pressure of the tight sphincter was like a clenched fist.

Mike withdrew gently, then began untying the boy. As Randy sat up, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, Mike saw the small wet spot where the boy's seed from his second orgasm had spilled on the sheet. Pearly drops clung to his small growth of straight black pubic hair. Mike took the clothespins off the boy's nipples and rubbed his head.

"That was great, Randy. Thanks." Randy offered a toothy smile, but no verbal response.

Mike went back to the boy's room and started to get dressed. Randy followed him and asked, "Are we going to do it again sometime?"

"How about if I pick you up at 6:00 tomorrow evening. I'll take you out to dinner, then to a friend's house. He has a dungeon."

"Cool."

The End

#4
Lessons in Loving

A boy-lover introduces his 10-year old friend into man-boy sex, and thinks about his own introduction into sex.

Richard (10yo), Jon (adult, in flashback 9yo) and Rolf (adult)
Mb – cons oral anal – first

A very dear friend who has vanished from my life inspired this story. If you read this, dear friend, I wish you peace

Saturday

Jon looked past his slightly rounded, furry stomach to the magnificent sight of the boy's stretched lips. Richard couldn't manage to take much more than the glans into his mouth – after all, he was only 10 years old – but he made up for it by using his hands to bring Jon the most exquisite sensations. In the two months since their relationship became sexual, Richard had become quite skilled and enthusiastic in his skills at fellatio.

Jon could feel his orgasm approaching. Richard sensed it too because he started sucking and stroking Jon's cock at a swifter pace. As the testes drew tighter to the base of the penis, Richard kneaded them, making Jon moan in appreciation. His involuntary hip thrusts were mis-timed to the boy's bobbing head, and at the moment of ejaculation, the glans slipped from the boy's mouth. Semen struck the silky lock of hair that hung across the boy's brow. As the boy tried to get his mouth back on the glans, a second pulse of warm semen splattered against Richard's upper lip. The third pulse was received inside his mouth, and he enthusiastically swallowed the rest of the semen.

Jon sat back on the couch and Richard sat between his legs, snuggling his cheek against the inside of Jon's thigh. Richard didn't bother to wipe the semen from his angelic face, and as Jon lovingly stroked the boy's hair, he thought back to his own first affair.

***

He had been 9 years old, younger even than Richard. His mother had just been taken to the mental hospital again, and he escaped to the basement of their apartment building. Next to the dark laundry room were a couple of apartments and an empty room where the maintenance staff kept their buckets and some of their tools. He had gone downstairs to hide in the maintenance room, but the door was shut and he was afraid to open it. Instead, he sat on the cement stairs, which were hard and cold against his slender buttocks. It was November and he really should have had a coat on. He folded his arms across his ribs and started to cry.

The tears began slowly at first. He was angry. How could she do that to him again? He hated going to the hospital to visit her, hated seeing her with her hair all messy, her face looking like an old woman's, the white bandages on her wrists. And the deadness in her eyes from the medications. Maybe even worse was staying alone with his father in their small apartment. His dad had a knack for not seeing Jon. He wished the man would notice him, even if it was only to yell and lecture.

The tears of anger were soon replaced by tears of sorrow and self-pity. Why me? he muttered under his breath. Am I so bad that she can't stand to live? One of the apartment doors opened and instantly his tears stopped. He stood, wiping his eyes with the palms of both hands.

A beautiful woman about his mother's age came out one of the doors. She held the hand of a girl who was 4 or 5 years old. The woman smiled kindly at him as she walked past but did not speak. A moment later he realized someone stood in the still-open doorway of the apartment. He turned to look and saw the painter.

The man wiped at his hands with a paint-spattered rag. He wore a painter's smock and a little beret. "You live upstairs, don't you?" The voice was rich and musical. He was a mysterious man to Jon, a successful painter who rented the apartment as a studio. The old women who sat on the front porch of the building said he lived in a house across town.

"Yes, sir," he replied, just a trace of a tremble in his voice.

"My name is Rolf. What is yours?"

"I 3; I 3; my name's Jon," he managed to utter. He raised his gaze high enough that he could see the man from the corner of his eye.

"Jon, come here."

Jon looked up in surprise. After a moment he walked haltingly to Rolf. The man clapped a strong hand on his shoulder. "Such a pretty little thing. And you always look so sad."

"I'm okay," he muttered toward his shoes.

"Ach! I have gotten paint on your shirt. Come inside so I may clean it."

Jon followed the man into the studio. Huge canvases were leaned against every available centimeter of wall space. One wall was all glass, opening to a small garden that was surrounded by a high wooden fence. Jon was amazed at the beauty of it. A private garden! And it was only his studio, not the place where he lived.

Rolf went to the kitchen sink. "Give me your shirt. Quickly, before the paint dries."

Jon was going to tell him it was no big deal, that it wasn't a good shirt. Actually it was a good shirt, but he was embarrassed to show this strong, powerful man his skinny little chest. But as he hesitated, Rolf came over and began unbuttoning it for him. Jon stood with his hands at his side and tried not to tremble as the man worked. Rolf's hair was long and tied in a pony tail. Long strands of silver were mixed in with the black hairs. His close cropped beard also had strands of silver.

After he finished unbuttoning, he looked up into the boy's face and Jon felt dazzled by the man's bright blue eyes. He shivered. Rolf took the shirt to the sink and rinsed it. Then he took it to an empty paint easel and hung it.

"You'll have to wait for an hour or so till it dries. Is that okay?"

"Um 3; sure. Can I?" He couldn't believe this man wanted him to hang around. It was beyond anything he could have dreamt of.

Rolf came over and put a hand on the boy's short hair. "You're such a sad little boy. How old are you?"

"I'm nine."

"And so thin." Rolf gently moved his hand down the boy's shoulder, across his ribs, to his belt. He left the warm hand on Jon's hip. "I could feel each rib."

Jon felt his misery rising again. If only he wasn't so skinny and so ugly. Maybe this man would like him. His lower lip trembled. Then his whole body quivered as the man slowly brought his fingertips across Jon's chest, stopping to touch the hollow between each rib.

"Pretty little boy, why are you so sad?"

Then it all happened so quickly. Jon thought he started sobbing first, then Rolf had sat on a kitchen chair and pulled him into his lap, hugging him and patting his head. But maybe he had been swept into the hug first. It didn't matter. For what seemed an eternity, he sobbed with his face buried into the soft cotton of the man's shirt. He vaguely heard the man's soft words of comfort, vaguely felt the kisses on top of his head, the caressing of the large hand that rubbed lightly up and down his back.

As his sobbing subsided, the tears finally drying up, he noticed that while one of Rolf's hands caressed his back, the other was rubbing his thigh through the thin cotton of his slacks. When the hand rubbed up his thigh, the man's thumb touched him right in his private parts. He had been sitting across one of the man's strong thighs, and his butt felt a little tired, so he wiggled a little. When he did this, he brought his hand down into the man's lap to steady himself. It had been an innocent gesture, but he was shocked when he felt a huge lump inside the man's pants.

He quickly moved his hand away from the lump, but Rolf took his hand and returned it. Jon held his hand still for a moment, unsure what to do. Having cried out his misery for the moment, he felt light-headed. Rolf smelled so good, so masculine. And the man's lips were soft against his forehead except for the scratch of his beard.

Rolf's hand ventured up past his thigh to his crotch. He lightly pinched at the cloth in the boy's crotch until he found the stiffening penis. Jon was embarrassed to have the man touch him in that most private place. But it felt good. So good. He snuggled his cheek against the man's shoulder. When the fingertips of Rolf's other hand slid beneath his belt and touched his bare buttocks, Jon's body quivered. The fingers kneaded at his little stiffie, sending pulses of pleasure all though his 9 year old body.

A moment later, he felt his heart pound as the man began to fumble at Jon's belt with one hand. Eventually he got it open. The zipper proved to be too great a challenge, though the man persisted at trying. Jon wanted the man to touch him beneath his pants, and he was quite impatient. When it seemed the man would never get his zipper down, Jon quickly unzipped it himself.

"M-m-m. My wonderful little Jon," the man purred against his forehead. Smoothly the man's hand went inside his underpants and his thumb and forefinger grasped the rigid little pole. Jon felt as though the man's lap had swallowed him up. He had never dreamed of anything like this happening. It was so much more exciting than three years ago when he had licked at the stiff dickie of one of his friends.

The man's fingertips were like magic as they moved beneath the waistband of his underpants. "Am I making you feel good, Jon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Rolf. We're friends, right?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Special friends with a secret that we can tell to no one."

"Yes."

"Don't you want to make me feel good like I'm doing for you?"

"Well, yes 3; but I don't know what to do."

"Trust yourself. Be an artist. A poet. A musician. That's it, play my body like a precious instrument."

Rolf kept the fingers moving on his young friend's penis. "If all else fails, do just what I do."

Jon got the message right away, but it wasn't until the man said something that made sense – just do what I do – that he felt able to take action. He unbuckled the man's belt. "Good boy." He unzipped the pants and unsnapped them. Beneath the briefs, he got his first notion of the size of a grown up man's dickie. It was bigger than the large sausages in the butcher shop! He could feel heat coming from beneath the white briefs as he squeezed it.

Rolf's fingertips traveled down to Jon's testes, which were cramped within the confines of his briefs. "Stand up a moment," he said confidently.

Jon slid off the man's thigh. Rolf squatted down and slowly pushed the boy's trousers down to his ankles. Then with even more graceful delay, he lifted the waistband of the briefs and put them around his ankles. Jon stood with his hands slightly raised, feeling they didn't belong anywhere. He looked down at his thin little erection, which pointed straight at the ceiling. He wanted Rolf to take it back into his fingertips, to continue to give him that tingly feeling.

Rolf surprised him by bringing his face to his crotch. He felt the man's breath on his stiffie. "Oh," he uttered in surprise. Then he felt the beard scratch against his thin, hairless upper thigh, and a hot, wet gliding sensation on his dickie. "Oh," he said again, this time in pleasure and surprise. As the man's tongue began to move, he felt a strange sensation as though his stomach were being pulled out the end of his dickie. He had never imagined anything could feel so intense. It felt so good that it frightened him, and without thinking, he grabbed the man's head with both hands.

He was trying to find words to tel the man he was going to pee when suddenly his hips jerked around like a string of firecrackers dancing on the pavement. It felt alarmingly good. It couldn't be right to feel so out of control. Then the delicious spasms stopped and he tried to wince away from sudden overstimulation.

"It hurts!" he cried, and Rolf lifted his head at once. "What did you do?" the boy asked.

"I just sucked your cock and you had an orgasm." From his knees, the man warmly smiled up at Jon.

"Did I pee? I didn't mean to 3;"

Jon grabbed the boy's hips and pulled him close. "No, sweet boy. You didn't pee. You did everything perfectly. What a fine lover you are!"

Jon looked down at the top of Rolf's head as the man embraced him tightly. He couldn't remember ever feeling so happy. As the man's strong hands caressed his butt, Jon caressed the thick neck.

Then Rolf stood and pushed his trousers down. A huge wet spot had formed at the waistband of his shorts where his monster-sized stiffie was threatening to burst forth. Jon wondered if the man had peed. But he didn't smell like pee, and Jon had just felt as though he peed, but instead Rolf called it an orgasm. He decided this wet stuff must be something else.

"Should I 3; should I touch it?"

"Make me feel good, just like I did for you."

Jon wondered if the man wanted him to lick on the giant dickie. He remembered doing that years earlier with a friend his own age and sort of liking it. When he reached for the massive column beneath the white briefs, Rolf said, "Wait," and finished undressing.

Rolf sat on a kitchen chair and Jon quickly sat on his lap, bringing both hands to the huge dickie. It felt hard, yet the skin covering it felt silky and sort of loose. It seemed like there was hair everywhere – on his stomach, a sprinkling on his fat ball sac, and a thick tuft above his dickie. A pungent smell wafted up to him. It seemed like the sort of smell he would normally consider gross, but somehow this smell made him feel more alert, more attracted to the man.

"Peel the skin back," the man said in an urgent, low-pitched voice. He took a firm grip and pushed back much like he would have done to his own dickie to show the little helmet. Only Rolf's dickie didn't have a little helmet, it had a fat, slick, dark purple knob that seemed to be the size of a fist.

Mesmerized by the sight of it, he stared without moving. He resisted for a moment when he felt Rolf's hand pressing on his neck. Then he stopped resisting as he slid from the man's lap and allowed his face to be propelled to within inches of the oozing slit at the end of the dickie.

He knew the man wanted him to lick it and take it in his mouth, just as he had done. The wet stuff seemed kind of gross, and the nasty-but-enticing smell was so strong it made his eyes begin to water. Again he hesitated. Rolf gently nudged the back of his head, making the big knob bounce against his closed lips. As he pulled back, a string of clear wet stuff connected the dickie to his face as though it was pulled taffy.

He wanted to make Rolf happy, and this propelled him to action. He licked at the fat knob, tasting the rather salty but pleasant wet stuff. He discovered it was slippery – more so than spit.

He grabbed the shaft in one hand and held it so he could lick all around the purple glans. Rolf made little appreciative sounds and used his strong hands to guide the boy's face. He had to stretch his lips really wide to fit the end of it inside his mouth. He knew to try to keep from biting or scraping with his teeth, but it was so huge, it seemed impossible. If it hurt, Rolf didn't say so. Rolf was using both hands to urge Jon's head up and down so that the glans entered and nearly left his mouth repeatedly.

"Use your hands, too," Rolf said.

For ten minutes, the boy concentrated and worked as hard as he could to make Rolf feel good. He felt ashamed when he gagged or when his lips made loud snacking sounds, but it didn't dampen his enthusiasm. He sensed that something was changing because Rolf's hips seemed a little restless. The hands clutched at his head more tightly, and the man often pushed down on his head so hard it made him gag.

Then, without warning, Rolf orgasmed, sending a huge wad of semen against the back of the boy's throat. Jon gagged and sputtered to get his breath. He couldn't believe the man was peeing in his mouth! Then some more came. It had a sort of salty, bitter taste. He forced himself to swallow and tried to keep making the man feel good as another and another spurt of the warm fluid come out the end of his dickie. Some of it ran out of his mouth and went across his hand. Through watery eyes, he could see that it was not pee, but was something white and thick. After Rolf let him lift his mouth off the dickie, he continued to gag several more times. He crumpled to the floor, exhausted and feeling sort of sick. But Rolf hooked him under the arms and easily lifted the boy onto his lap. He kissed the boy's face and lips, tasting tears and his own semen. Jon saw that some of the white stuff had gotten on Rolf's beard. Apparently the man did not mind getting the white stuff in his mouth. That made Jon feel a lot better about the whole thing.

And the kisses made him feel good. Until Rolf, no one had kissed Jon for several years. Though he didn't know why, suddenly he was giggling. Maybe it was the tickling of the beard. Maybe it was the joy of feeling loved.

They stayed naked and snuggled until his shirt was dry. Then Rolf said, "Remember, this is our secret. You must tell no one. Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you." They hugged again.

And the next day Jon worked up the courage to knock on the door again. Rolf snuck him inside and they did the same things.

And the next day.

And the next.

He so adored the man, that he would unquestioningly have done anything he asked, so when the man asked to do something really naughty, Jon eagerly agreed, even though he had been warned it would be painful at first.

***

He rubbed Richard's soft hair. "About the first time I sucked a man's cock."

"Tell me about it."

So he did. And it inspired them to another round of orgasms.

"Can I come back tomorrow" Richard asked hopefully as he stood in the doorway.

"I can think of nothing I'd rather have than your smiling face in my home."

"And tomorrow you are going to do it to me."

"You're not ready yet."

"Don't you want to?"

"Yes. Yes. You know I do. But I want it to be a good experience for you, too. It's too soon."

"Tomorrow it is, then," Richard said, flashing a devilish smile. He darted down the sidewalk toward his bicycle.

Sunday

Jon gazed across his slightly rounded, furry stomach to the place where his cock touched the boy's buttocks. He slouched on the sofa as the boy hovered over him. Richard's shins dug into Jon's thighs as he struggled to get himself aligned. The boy's graceful fist encircled John's thick cock, trying to point it at the right angle. Jon's hands cupped and supported the 10 year old's slender buttocks. Richard's expression had changed from determination to frustration as he attempted to impale himself. His hairless balls were drawn tight in their wrinkled, brown sac. His penis looked more like foreskin than flesh as it dangled off to one side of his testes.

"Maybe we should take a little break, Richard," Jon said softly.

"No!" the boy called. "I can do it. There. Is it lined up?"

Jon probed down the boy's cleft till his fingertip touched the place where the blunt knob of his penis pressed into the boy's tender flesh. "I think so. Go easy, now."

Richard's blue eyes vanished as he tightened his face into a grimace. The pressure on Jon's aching penis steadily increased. "Try to relax yourself, Richard. Push out with your bowel. Go very slowly."

"Slowly isn't working!" Richard spat with frustration and discomfort. "You could get it in if you'd get on top."

"Richard," he said tenderly. "We've discussed this. I can't do anything to hurt you. I love you."

"But I want you to!"

"Let's take a break. Maybe if I kissed you there again."

"No! No! No!" With that the fifth grader thrust his hips down forcefully.

Jon felt sudden intense pressure on the end of his penis and knew that at least the glans was inside. The boy's sphincter was like a vise. Richard cried out at the first penetration, then fell to whimpering, his face contorted with pain, his eyes and teeth clenched. He beat one fist against Jon's chest.

"Just stay right there, Richard. The pain will ease more you allow yourself to relax. You did it, boy. You took me inside you."

For the rest of his life, Jon would remember the look of triumph on Richard's face. It was a moment of love and beauty. And, once he knew he could do it, the boy relaxed. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore," the boy said cautiously. That moment of triumph sent Jon's thoughts back to his own first time, when he lay face down on Rolf's cot and let the man poke at him with a greased finger. Even the finger had hurt. Jon had not benefitted from the three weekends of preparation that Richard had received. Within 15 minutes of learning that men could do that to boys, Jon was being penetrated.

In retrospect, he didn't think Rolf was intentionally cruel, but the man was married and a novice himself to anal intercourse. At least he knew enough to use a lubricant.

It had been a Sunday afternoon and Jon had already tasted Rolf's semen. But the thought of penetrating the 9 year old's virgin ass had sent new life to his penis.

"It sort of hurts," Jon said timidly as the man's finger pressed inside him. His face was in the pillow and he couldn't see exactly what Rolf was doing behind him.

"It'll be okay," Rolf said. "Lot's of people have done this sort of thing before." His voice was husky and his breathing was rapid. "This is the most exciting thing I've ever done. Thank you, sweet Jon."

Jon promised himself that no matter how much it hurt, he wouldn't complain. If Rolf wanted to do this, he would do it gladly. But he found himself groaning in discomfort as the finger pressed deeper into his bowels. He bit his lip.

When the finger was withdrawn, Rolf said, "Here goes."

"Are you sure it will fit?" Jon asked, lifting his shoulders and craning his neck around.

Rolf's gentle hand pressed him back onto the mattress. "It will be the greatest moment of my life."

The cot springs groaned as the man got into position over him. Rolf grasped both of the boy's wrists and probed around with his Vaseline-coated cock, trying to find the pink heart of the boy's buttocks. He found the mark and pressed forward with increasing force. He did not get inside.

Just the blunt pressure against the outside of his anus caused some discomfort, and Jon's heart was pounding with fear. Without warning, Rolf suddenly thrust forward with his hips. It felt as though he had been torn open. Jon cried out and whimpered, but he did not ask the man to pull out.

Again Rolf thrust forward. Again Jon cried out. He felt trapped beneath the man with incredible pressure against his butt. He couldn't move his arms because of Rolf's powerful grip on his wrists. He sobbed and bit at the pillow.

Again the thrust, like a sharp jab. And another. "I guess this is all that fits," Rolf muttered. Instead of a sharp jab, his next movement was a gentle, sliding withdrawal. He stopped for a moment with only half of the glans inside the boy, then thrust his cock back inside Jon's rectum. Jon was in pain and only wanted it to be over. Since Rolf had orgasmed earlier in the day, it took longer for him to orgasm again.

Jon continued to chew on the pillow. His hands were clenched into fists. His tears flowed freely as he tried to endure the assault. He managed to hold on by counting the number of times the springs of the cot squeaked. When the frenzy of orgasmic thrusting exploded, Jon lost count. He wondered if he was going to pass out.

Then Rolf collapsed, his sweaty, hairy body completely covering the small pale-skinned boy. It felt as though a giant tree was growing from his butt. Where the huge dickie entered him, it burned and felt wet. He wondered if he was bleeding.

Eventually Rolf slid off to one side. The man gently and lovingly kissed his nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, and neck. Jon could tell that the man was very happy. That alone made the whole ordeal worthwhile. Later, in the water closet, the man gave him a gentle sponge bath that ended in a wonderful dry orgasm.

Jon didn't like the anal sex at first, but Rolf insisted upon it each time he visited. And Jon couldn't go more than a day or two without visiting. After about a dozen times, Jon began to actually enjoy being penetrated. The discomfort was no longer unmanageable, and the rewards of being so close to Rolf made it a desirable activity.

***

Jon's memory was replaced by the sudden delicious sensation of his cock sliding slowly into Richard's rectum. Richard again had his eyes closed and his brow wrinkled as he pressed downward to take more of Jon's cock inside him. They seemed to reach the bottom with only an inch or so of Jon's cock on the outside.

"Now what?" Richard asked, his blue eyes again hovering over Jon's face.

"First, kiss me, then make me cum in your ass."

As the boy leaned to accept a passionate kiss, Jon used his hands to slightly bounce the buttocks up and down. "Oh, that feels kind of good," the boy murmured into Jon's open mouth.

"I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to me," Jon said, feeling himself getting choked up with love for his eager partner. "I love you, Richard."

Jon saw the briefest flash of white teeth as the boy smiled, then began to raise up, wiggling his hips as he did so. He continued to wiggle in a little circular motion as he lowered himself again. Jon gasped as he realized his orgasm was imminent. He had never been one to have a hair trigger, but Richard had raised his passion to an unsustainable level.

"I'm cumming," he warned, and the boy responded by slapping himself up and down hard. Richard remained mostly impaled as Jon's cock jabbed up at him in fierce staccato thrusts. When his passion waned, Jon pulled the boy down onto his stomach and chest without breaking their fleshy connection.

"It feels like there is a giant turd stuck in my butt."

Jon rubbed the boy's back, not in the least offended by the boy's crudeness. It was so typical of a pre-teen boy, and he loved nothing more than pre-teen boys. Especially this boy.

"It feels like an angel is trying to crush my cock."

Richard lifted his head and grinned. Jon could feel the pressure increase briefly on his cock as the boy tried to contract his stretched sphincter. "Well, maybe one is."

He pulled the boy's face closer and kissed tenderly at his ear and neck. "Definitely one is."

Even after his cock had shriveled to its most flaccid state, they remained connected and in each other's arms. Twilight had come and the house grew dark. Richard had burrowed his face beneath Jon's chin. "Sometimes I get scared you won't want to see me anymore."

"That will never happen."

"Never? Even when I start to grow hair?"

"I love you, Richard. Forever and for always. When you get older we may not want to keep having sex like this, but you'll always be welcome at my house."

Again Jon remembered his first lover, Rolf, and remembered feeling like the man had saved him from a life of misery. Until one day, when Jon came to see him and the apartment was vacant. Rolf had vanished as suddenly as he came, leaving no word of his destination, no explanation, no goodbye.

A vulnerable and lonely 9 year old, Jon had been devastated. First he just felt empty, like someone had knocked the wind from his soul. Then for a while, in his anger and grief, he swore that getting to know Rolf was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

There were no other men to take Rolf's place, no one to make him feel special and loved. But Rolf had taught him he deserved to be noticed, to be loved. He knew that Rolf had loved him as well as he could given his situation, that it would have been different had the man not been married and had children of his own.

And in the long run, those two months of being loved made all the difference. At his mother's funeral he couldn't even cry, not for her, not for himself. But it did signal him to move on. In high school and college he had many gay lovers. But he had love, and not just sex, in his life. And Richard was his third boy. He knew that he should introduce Richard to the other two lovers. Marc was now in college, and Peter was in high school. He saw them occasionally and they spoke via telephone a couple of times a month. He knew that would reassure the boy.

"Hey, Jon," Richard said, again interrupting his reverie.

"Yeah?" It was completely dark.

"You're my best friend in the whole world."

"You're mine, too."

"Next time I want you to be on top."

Jon felt the small erection pressing into his belly. "Next time?"

Richard giggled. "Okay, this time." He got up and Jon felt a sudden cool tingle as his slick cock was exposed to the late afternoon air. "But first I have to call my parents to tell them I'll be a little late."

The End