Monday, May 12, 2008

The Burlington Mall Experience

Driving back from Burlington to Framingham this Friday afternoon, I put on the radio and heard the temperature - 102 degrees. We were in the middle of a heat wave that made everyone feel like moving to Alaska. I had the air conditioning on high as I pulled onto 128 South, but the heat made the inside of the car feel like a pressure cooker. Unfortunately, there was an accident on the highway, and all the cars were backed up. I had to turn the air conditioner off (so the car would not overheat) and open the windows.

Traffic was at a standstill, and even with the windows open, there was no small breeze of air to break the heat of the 3PM sun. I pushed the car into neutral and laid my head against the back of the seat. I knew that I had to conserve energy to keep cool, so I closed my eyes and started to breath normally. It was so hot that my thoughts began to wonder into a daydream - but this was not a fantasy, it was an account of the activities that I had just been a part of at the Burlington Mall.

It was Wednesday, and as hot as a whore's cunt. I decided to take the day and spend it sitting in my air conditioned room in front of the computer. I must have logged into every BBS in existence around the country when I finally logged into one of my favorite Boston boards. I was relieved when I saw one of my old friends online. We entered chat immediately.

Steve was at work, and we had not seen each other for a few months. We typed away on the computer and then discussed having lunch together later in the week. Friday was a good day for both of us, and since he worked in Burlington, I agreed to meet him at the Burlington Mall at 12:00 Noon. I asked him to confirm the next day, and then we jumped offline. I wrote in my appointment book: "Lunch, 12:00, Steve, Burlington Mall, BayBank machines."

The next day, I logged in and received an e-mail message: "Brownie - looking forward to lunch tomorrow at the Mall - can't wait to see you again - maybe we can rent a motel room? Love always, Steve." The thought of seeing Steve again made me quiver. He was married, had two kids, and was the epitome of a family man, even down to the clandestine rendezvous that we had three months ago - complete with pictures of the wife and children.

I thought back to that time we had shared and smiled from ear to ear. it was like being in bed with a wild animal who had not eaten for months, and I did not mind being the food to satisfy him. I still believe that I have a few burns on my inner thighs where his mustache was grinding into me. That was one night that I shall never forget. Of course, a repeat performance might be entertaining, but that first time was the height of ecstasy.

That night, I tried to go to bed early so that I could accomplish all the errands that had to be done before I drove north to meet Steve. I closed my eyes and tried, but the image of his throbbing cock made me feel more and more awake. The sheet over my groin began to rise and I knew that I could not wait until another 14 hours to release my passion. Tempting as it was, I resigned myself to waiting - knowing that good things come to those who are patient. When I awoke, my balls were swollen, and the muscles in my stomach were in knots.

I got out of bed and took a cold shower to calm myself so that I could carry out the tasks scheduled for this morning. The cold water fell on my body and became instantly warmed by my burning flesh. As I soaped myself, I ran my hands and fingers over ever inch of my chest and legs, avoiding the crucial areas. I knew that the slightest touch would set me loose, and I did not want to waste any chances to give Steve all that I had.

The events of the day went quickly, and I pulled onto the Mass Pike heading for 128 at 11:15 AM. By the time that I arrived at the entrance to the mall, it was 11:45 AM. Fifteen minutes early was just good enough to sit down, have a cigarette, watch some of the people in the stores, and mentally prepare for the afternoon of delight. The entrance that I needed to use was blocked off, and there was a sign telling me to enter the mall through Jordan Marsh.

I walked through the store and received many complimentary stares. I guess that the white shorts, blood red tank top, and knee socks were a good combination. I knew that I wanted to look good for Steve, and this was the confidence builder that I needed. As I exited the store into the mall, my eyes widened. I had forgotten about the construction that was started about a year ago.

The entire inside of the mall was covered in scaffolding, and cluttered with heavy machinery. Aside from the inanimate objects that possessed most of the space, there were construction men that went along with the equipment. As far as my eyes could see, the men milled around carrying various objects such as tools, and planks, and blueprints.

If this was not the crowning glory to the already burning desire that was inside me, I do not know what could have been. I made my way to the BayBank ATMs to wait for Steve. On the way, I took careful notice of all the renovations and the people who were working on them. Steve was in for a LONG session of animalistic hedonism due to the sights that I beheld.

I sat against one of the pillars that surrounded the area. I watched carefully for Steve, anxious for his arrival. I wanted to skip lunch and run right over to the Howard Johnson's Motor Lodge across the street and release the desires and feelings that I had. It was 12:10PM and Steve had not yet arrived.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was 12:15PM now. Steve could have been late, but at this point I did not care. It was Friday, and as we all know, pay day. It was also lunch hour, and the construction men took the opportunity to go to the bank and either deposit, or cash, the checks they had just received. I found that where I sat was the prime vantage point for the ensuing parade of studly hunks.

It was like attending a fashion show. Almost every man in the mall walked down the corridor, past me, and to the ATMs. Each one holding check in hand, and hurrying to get money for lunch. As they passed by, I made my visual inspections of each one. Each possessed unique merits, and I had never seen such a multitude of gorgeous males before in one place.

Because of the intense heat that day, the dress code was uniform. Each one wore cut off denims, and either a half tee-shirt or a sweat-top with the sleeves cut to the shoulders. I was expecting to see at least a few men who were older, or had the paunchy physiques of a tired manual laborer, but not one of them matched that description.

The other oddity that I noticed, was that as I semi-cruised the stream of studs, at least HALF cruised back! This had to be my imagination, so when they finished their business at the bank, I once again looked intently at them. They also cruised me, and I knew that it was not a hopeful fantasy, but the real thing.

As the procession waned, I looked at my watch to see how late Steve was. It was 12:45PM and he was no where in sight. My heart sank as I realized that he had stood me up - but was confident that he had a good reason. There would be no way that he could miss the meeting that we set up intentionally, for he was as excited as I was to be together again.

Figuring that the date was cancelled, I proceeded to look for a telephone to call my answering machine and check for a message from him. On the way to the phones, I noticed that the construction had halted, and the crews were lining the corridors, sitting against the walls, eating and talking. I felt wonderful as I passed by and received a few looks, a few smiles, and two comments about my tight ass.

I located the row of telephones and called my machine. There was a message from Steve. "Brownie, sorry for not showing up. The boss was in a rampage and we all had to skip lunch today. I hope you get this message before you wait too long for me - I really looked forward to being with you again. Maybe we can reschedule for next week?"

After getting the message from Steve, and sitting in the mall for an hour, I was thoroughly depressed. I wanted so badly to see him, and needed this time to express my natural needs with another man. I decided that it would have to wait until we could see each other again, but this was not a happy thought. I now had to head back to Framingham and the long drive was not a happy thought either. Before I departed, I had to make a "pit stop" in the men's room.

I made my way to the Food Court of the mall, and found more of the construction workers lining the corridor. They looked hot and sweaty - just the way I like them. Many of them had removed their shirts to battle the heat - the only reason that I was thankful for the high temperatures that day. I wandered through the center of the area and headed for the back exit where the bathrooms were located.

Walking into the bathroom, I noticed that I was alone, which surprised me due to the multitude of people in the mall at that time. I went into a stall and sat down, preparing for the long drive ahead. I looked at the walls of the small cubicle and noticed that most of the writing was washed off, but there was some new writing on the left wall. "Hot cock sex is the greatest!", "BWM 31 seeks young studs for J/O call 478-XXXX.", "I need my 8 1/2 inch cock in a guys mouth.", "I like to get fucked. If you like to fuck, meet here 8/12 at 1:00".

I was always an aficionado of t-room poetry, so this was nothing special to me. The last one though, set off a flag in my mind. I looked at my watch and saw that it was time for that anonymous person to arrive. I figured that it was bogus - as many of them were, but the thought of his arrival still entertained me.

During the time that I pondered about what the author of this message looked like, the door to the bathroom opened, and someone entered. I heard the footsteps approach the stalls, and without hesitation, the other customer occupied the stall next to me. Listening intently, the sound of a belt being unbuckled, a snap being opened, and a zipper being drawn down, filled the porcelain chamber. I saw his pants drop to his ankles under the partition and his right foot positioned itself close to the imaginary line that separated the floor space between the two enclosures.

I never could be accused of having a foot fetish, but in the time when I cruised t-rooms, there is an amount of proficiency one develops when watching the feet of the man next to you. I tend to scale and calibrate the amount of space that the foot moves against the tiles in the floor. This way, along with the amount of upward and downward tapping movement, one can generally ascertain the intentions of his neighbor.

This one was different. The lighting in the room was such that my vision was impeded, and I could not tell exactly by the size and shoe type what the age of my assumed partner would be. This added a sort of mystery to the situation that made my cock grow hard. Of course, at this point in the day, that was not a difficult feat to achieve.

My mind raced with the probabilities that this was the same man who wrote the invitation on the wall, and my ears and eyes became open with anticipation of any signs that I may receive. The tension was building and I heard only silence and saw no motion. Suddenly, my heart stopped as the foot began to move. Slow tapping at first, no sound. Then a slight shift toward my side, then a click of the heel.

That was all the information I needed and quickly deciphered the code that was transmitted to me: "Wanna play a game?" The foot remained still for a few moments, awaiting a reply to the message. I, of course, responded in the same code - Tap, tap, tap, slide, click - connection made. I wanted a 9600 baud transfer at this point, seeing that my balls were aching with anticipation, and I figured that we would not be alone for long.

I got my wish - I felt and saw the intruder's foot approach mine and place itself against my own. The pure excitement of the moment could have caused me to cum, and the slight physical contact sent electric shocks up my leg. The foot retreated quickly as the sound of the outside door opening reverberated on the smooth white walls. Two men entered. Both talking at the same time.

"It's hot out there - CHRIST! How do they expect us to work in heat like this?" "I dunno, good thing we ain't workin' tonight. Ya know, some of the guys gotta stay after for closing up, security ain't comin' in today." The faucets were turned on and there was no doubt that the two gentlemen were washing their hands after lunch. They left the bathroom and the door shut behind them.

I wanted to speed up the activities that were taking place between myself and my suitor, so I hastened to pull up my shorts and exit the stall. I figured that if I stood at the sinks long enough, he would eventually come out - then I could make contact, and see if he was someone that I wanted to get involved with. I turned on the water and washed my hands. My eyes kept darting to the space under the stall where I could see the feet of my would-be partner. I waited for two minutes until I saw motion.

The door of the stall finally opened. It seemed like an eternity until my prey exited into the sink area. I turned and glanced at him quickly, making sure to obviate the need for informality, and scoped his entire frame. I turned toward my task at the sink once again and waited for him to approach. Thinking about what I saw made me wonder.

He stood no more than 5'6", with straight blonde hair cut in the antiquated "bowl style". Age, approximately 19, weight, 145-155 pounds. Small features, and a feminine stance. DEFINITELY *NOT* my type at all. But, what the fuck? I was horny, and so was this kid. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

I figured that I would let him get a good look at me, and if he liked what he saw, or at least settled for a few minutes of fun if he did not like me, he would approach me at this point. I shut off the water and made my way to the hand dryer. He was standing next to the machine on the wall, so as I ran my hands under the hot stream of air, I looked intently into his eyes, not paying attention to what I was doing. He, in turn, looked into my eyes, and I knew at this point that he was ready for action.

The hand dryer shut off automatically. I rested my left elbow on top of the unit and moved closer to him, pinning him against the wall. He seemed frightened by my blank expression and open glare. "So, I guess you're here for the same thing as me, huh?" His eyes moved around my face as I spoke, and upon my last word, he tilted his head slightly to the right and furrowed his brow.

"Don't play stupid, it's too late for that." His actions were the same as I placed this sentence in front of him. At that moment, I backed off, realizing that he did not understand me. I stepped backward a few inches and looked at him. He straightened as I retreated, and I saw him relax slightly. It was apparent to me at this moment that I was dealing with a deaf boy.

From my limited training in sign language, I finger-spelled my name, and then the word: "Hi." He smiled as I did this and returned the salutation in the same manner. Connection made - handshake complete. I made the sign for "Sorry." and smiled. He quickly signed to me, which I did not understand, but from the facial expression understood that he was not offended. This made me even more relaxed around this young man.

The door to the bathroom opened, and three men entered. More of the construction workers from the inside of the mall. We both looked at them, and placed ourselves in a non-threatening position, far enough away form each other as not to be obvious. We continued to sign to each other, and I found out that his name was Chris. The three men in the room, watched us as they used the urinals.

"Hey, Bill - look at the two deaf guys. They're talking in that sign language stuff." "Yeah," said one of the others, "we could probably insult the living shit outta them and they wouldn't even hear it!" "YO! Cool down, Bobby, that ain't nice." was the response from the remaining man. I, of course, knew what they were saying, but did not let on that I could hear them. In a slow process, I informed Chris about the conversation behind us. He smiled as I proceeded to interpret the comments for him.

"Hey, Dave - you sweet on 'em, eh? Why you stickin' up for 'em?" "Fuck off, Chuck. They're probably nice kids. Leave 'em alone." The man who said that had the protective sound in his voice of a father that is shielding his children. Then Bill spoke again. "I wonder if they fuck like normal people?" "I dunno, why don't you fuck them and find out, faggot." was the retort from the man in the middle.

My translation of the conversation was crude, but Chris understood, and he began to grin from ear to ear. I decided to scare the piss out of them so that they would leave us alone to get on with business. I slowly turned around and faced the first man who had spoken. "You gonna stand there with you dick in your hand, or can you prove that you know how to use it?"

All three men stood straight up and glared at me as my voice echoed though the room. Surprise was not the term that I would use to describe the expression on Chuck's face, but for lack of a more intense adjective, it will do. "Holy shit! Hey, sorry about that man. Didn't mean it. I thought you were deaf. OH CHRIST! I'm really sorry." The other two, Dave and Bill, began to laugh.

I stood motionless, Chris behind me, looking at Chuck. "So, I asked you a question. Do you know how to use it, or are you just another big talker?" Dave and Bill began to shake feverishly with laughter as I propositioned Chuck. "YEAH CHUCK - he asked you a QUESTION. Answer him, Chucky, you afraid?" Bill had asked this question in a taunting manner, obviously trying his best to annoy his co-worker. "Oh, fuck you! What do ya think, I'm a fag or something? No way, man. Like I said, sorry. I want to get outta here." Chuck headed for the door.

Bill, who was closest to the exit stepped in front of him and blocked his retreat. Then he said: "Hey, you asked ME if I was sweet on them, but maybe YOU are.... go for it, dude!" Chuck tried to get past Bill, but was unable to. "Come on, lemme out. I was kiddin'!" He was noticably nervous at this point, and looked to Dave for support. Dave was not amused anymore, and looked at him in a stern manner.

The tension built to a point where the temperature was rising in the confined space. I felt obligated to speak. "Hey, Chuck, maybe YOU are the one who wants to get fucked! Huh, is that it? Chucky wanna get FUCKED?" Wanna get your asshole PLUGGED? HUH? Come on, Chucky, you know you want it." At this point, my anger was rising, as well as my cock. Chris tapped me on my shoulder.

He signed to me: 'What is going on, I am missing this. Tell me.' I turned to him and related the events that were transpiring. During my dialogue, Chuck approached Bill to exit the room. Bill pressed his back against the door, making it impossible to leave, and also preventing any others from entering. Chuck pleaded to the keeper of the gate, but to no avail. I finished my signing, and turned once again to face the men.

"My friend here, Chris, says he likes you. Thinks you're cute. He wants you to fuck him, but I told him 'no'. But, you know, I think you owe him an apology. HE'S deaf, and you insulted him. How can you make it up to him? I wonder.... hmmmmm.... perhaps you could fuck him, but, no, I think YOU deserve to get FUCKED. So, I'll make you an offer. I'm sure you're two friends here won't mind while we teach you a lesson."

Bill and Dave looked at each other and smiled. Dave turned to me, and with a wide-eyed expression said: "No, go right ahead. You're right. Chucky needs to learn a lesson." He then faced Bill. "Bill, don't let him out." Chuck had fear in his eyes, but a nervous smile on his face. "Oh yeah, you guys are funny. Right! Okay, game's over.... let's go." Bill and Dave remained motionless.

"Here's the deal, Chucky ol' man. You're gonna fuck Chris, but at the same time, I am gonna fuck YOU. Sound good? I think that should give you something to remember the next time you want to make fun of someone who's handicapped." My words fell on Chuck like a ton of bricks and his face dropped to a look of disbelief. Bill and Dave smiled after I made my offer of retribution for Chris. I turned and told Chris of my negotiations. He agreed wholeheartedly and stepped forward toward the sinks.

As Chris approached the sinks, Chuck backed himself into a corner. He was scared. It was four against one, and there was no way out. I began to unbuckle my belt slowly, and Chris did the same. Chuck was breathing heavily as he realized that the talk was over and the action was about to begin. Chris dropped his jeans to his ankles, and lowered his bikini briefs to the top of his thighs.

Chuck looked like a rodent in the corner avoiding a large feline. He shook from head to toe, and his eyes were glazed with the predicted tears that he would shed upon getting fucked. He darted to the door, and Bill clamped his arms around him, spun him around and held him tight against his chest. Dave approached him and standing to the side, reached for his belt. Chuck began to flail around and thrash his legs into the air wildly attempting to break free.

Dave opened Chuck's shorts and pulled them down to his knees, so that his motion was impeded. Bill covered Chuck's mouth with his left hand fearing that he would yell out. The sight of his bulge in his underware made me stiff as a rock. I wanted it now. I wanted this guy, and the thought of his two friends watching made it even hotter. I had never had a virgin ass before, so this was going to be a first for me that I would not forget.

The muffled screams of this large man were adding to the forceful atmosphere that I had started, and Bill was tightening his grip so that his captive could not move anymore. His underware was lowered, and his cock pointed downward. I, even being naive, knew that he had to get hard to fuck Chris. I thought fast, and then motioned to Chris to approach this restrained man.

He obviously needed no further instruction as he fell to his knees in front of Chuck and grabbed hold of the meat that hung before him. The full nine inches could not fit in Chris' small hand, but he compensated by running his closed fist up and down the shaft. Upon the first touch, Chuck writhed to free himself, but now Dave had his feet pinned to the ground. His sphere of motion was critically impaired, and the silenced screams of terror got no father than his eyes, which were shut tightly.

It took a few strokes, but his member began to stiffen. Chris looked behind at me, and I smiled at his fast achievement. Longer and longer it grew, as the sacks inside his cock filled with blood. Watching this young blonde kid kneeling in front of a large restrained hunk made my own blood flow and the throbbing in my pants prompted me to unleash my one eyed monster for air.

Before I even got my shorts down, I saw that Chuck's cock was stiff now, and stood straight up, with a small lean to the left. Chris still ran his open fist along the shaft, and then pulled it down so that the rod stood straight out from the nest of black pubic hair at the base of his groin. Bill flexed his muscles and grasped firmly onto his buddy as Chris lowered his ruby lips onto the throbbing prick at his face. One fast tightening of the muscles, a nasal whine and a final attempt to break free was the only other movement and sound in the room.

The hungry mouth lowered as almost simultaneously, the muscles in Chuck's body released. He became limp in Bill's arms and sank down, breathing deeply. Bill whispered seductively into his ear: "Now, doesn't that feel nice, Chucky? Huh? You like that? This kid gives good head, huh? Yeah, he sure does, yeah, you like that, don't ya? He knows how to suck cock. Let him suck on your cock, Chucky, let him suck it good."

Bill's arms relaxed and Chuck remained motionless with his eyes closed. Bill began to rub his right hand across Chuck's chest from pec to pec, back and forth in an oval motion, increasing his motion with each round to extend toward his stomach and the bottom of the tank top. When he reached the end of the tank top, he slid his hand underneath and reached up to Chuck's left nipple. I could see his fingers pinching and pulling slowly and then he transferred to the right nipple. Chuck's breathing slowed and began to get deep.

Bill slowly removed his left hand from Chuck's mouth. He slid his fingers down the powerful neck no longer supporting Chuck's head which rested back against Bill's shoulder. Dave deftly manoeuvered away from his position locking Chuck's feet to the ground, and stood up. "I think he likes this Bill. Maybe we should let him go, but stay against the door so no one comes in."

I stared at Chris' head moving back and forth as he pushed his mouth along the meat he wanted inside him. The sound of his mouth and lips sliding along Chuck's shaft along with the short grunts and gags was the focal point that filled my mind. I wanted to join, but at the same time, did not want to interrupt the motion.

Chuck's eyes were still closed and beads of sweat ran down his face. The heat was intense, and the five of us all being aroused made the temperature even more unbearable. There was no ventilation system in the men's room and the air was stagnant. The smell was overwhelming, but exciting as well. It was the scent of men and all of us breathed deeply to savor the aroma of lust and sexuality.

Bill had completely released his hold on Chuck, who stood motionless enjoying the wet receptacle around his member. Suddenly, both Bill and Chuck lurched forward, and Chris was thrust backwards. There was someone outside the door trying to get in. Bill's head whipped around and then he looked at me. "Uhhhh.... hold on.... ummm.... we're working in here. The bathroom's closed. Sorry."

"Hello? The bathroom is closed? No one told me about that. This is mall security. I should have been informed. Did they tell you which other bathroom is open while you guys are working?"

"Uhhhhh..... no. Well, you see..." Bill was getting rather nervous, and had not anticipated this turn of events. I quickly took the lead, and said in a rather gruff voice, imitating my vision of a repairman: "We won't be long. It's just a busted pipe. Water all over. We can't let you in - insurance problems. I'm sure you've seen this before. We'll tell you when we get it cleaned up."

"Okay. Just come to the security booth and ask for Roger. Tell me when you're finished. In the meantime, I'll put a sign on the door and rope off the entrance. When you leave, just put them to the side, okay?" He seemed to be waiting for a reply. "YEAH, okay. Roger at security - got it. Right." I had tried to keep in character while I sent him on his way. We all waited a few seconds and then proceeded to look at each other.

Bill stared at me. Chris sat on the floor, confused since he did not hear the conversation. Dave pressed his ear against the crack of the door, listening for footsteps and the sign being placed on the outside. Chuck just stood as if in a trance. I signed to Chris to fill him in on the past few minutes. He understood, and jumped to his feet. Bill had the look of indecision and I knew that I had to call the shots.

Dave came away from the door and approached me. "He's gone. I think we better split." "No way! We started this, we're going to finish it!" I was determined to release the sexual tension that had built up inside me for the past three days. Chuck stepped forward awkwardly. "No, please not yet. It felt real good. Let this kid finish."

"Chuck, we had a deal - it's gonna happen the way I told you." I did not want to miss the opportunity to fuck the ass of this guy who made my blood boil. I wanted so badly to probe his untouched rectum with my ever swelling prick. I pointed to the sinks and looked at Chris. He signed to me that he was nervous. I assured him that nothing was going to happen and that we had made the guard leave. I led him by the hand and positioned him over the sink.

His ass was bare and I removed his shorts from around his ankles. I pushed his torso forward so that it was horizontal over the faucets. His rear pushed out, and I swept my hand over his warm buns. They were as soft as when he was born, and pale as boiled white rice. His muscles were firm and showed the control that he could exert over his bottom section. I knelt down behind him and spread his ass cheeks. He had to be prepared for the following events, and I was more than willing to undertake the task.

The three men watched as I ran my tongue over the two mounds of flesh that encased his hot hole. I massaged the sides of his legs and licked the crack in the center. I slowly moved my hands to the insides of his groin, and then up the crack, separating his young, soft, buttocks. Staring at me was the entrance to his love canal. I flicked my tongue around the hole and saw it pucker with every touch of my hot and moist probe.

I made sure to leave plenty of saliva in the area so that Chuck would have no problem entering him. When he was wet enough, I stood up, and found Chuck still erect and watching what I had done. I walked over to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. I pushed him in Chris' direction and in a deep voice with no hesitation instructed him. "Fuck that ass. It's waiting for you. Plug his hole and ram it in."

Chuck stood behind Chris and looked at the young boy spread before him. He viewed the hole that I told him to plug and his cock stood at attention. I positioned myself against the opposite wall to watch in full view as he prepared himself. Dave crossed the room and stood next to me. He watched as intently as I did. Bill remained at the door, still fearful that there would be an unannounced intrusion. I looked over at him and asked him to come over to our vantage point.

He joined us quickly and I could see by the lump in his shorts that he also was excited. He made no attempts to hide his erection, and stood on my other side. The three of us watched as Chuck placed his left hand on Chris' back, his right hand around his cock. Chris grasped onto the sink and prepared himself for the moment he had been waiting for. Chuck moved cautiously toward him.

The sight was one that made all three of us lean forward in anticipation. Chuck slid his prick toward the pink hole and pressed deeply inside. He threw his head back as the feeling of total envelopment reached his brain. The sound that ensued was one of shear ecstasy and joy from both Chris and Chuck simultaneously. The group of voyeurs that I was a part of breathed a sigh of relief as Chuck buried the length of his manhood into Chris' ass.

It was not long until Chuck fell into the natural thrusting motion that he knew so well from being with women. Chris' body rocked back and forth as each thrust transformed his body into a human receptacle. The rhythm was set at a slow pace so that both men could enjoy the connection of their bodies. My groin was vibrating with the thought of being the caboose of this linkage.

As Bill, Dave and I watched this ballet of human sexuality, I saw Bill reached down and stroke himself through his pants. He caught me looking at him and smiled. I raised one eyebrow and smiled in return. My only thought was of entering Chuck's hole, but this man looking at me seemed as if he was also looking for action. "I'm open to share, if you're game." I said.

Without a word, Bill knelt down behind Chuck's thrusting ass and pushed him forward into Chris, holding him steady. He spread his hairy ass and began to lick furiously as if he had been wanting to do this for weeks. He thrust his tongue deeply into the crack and then sucked on the hole with a crackling sound. At the same time, he stroked his cock through his pants. "Man, I've wanted to eat this ass for a LONG time!"

I moved forward and held my cock out straight. "Get me wet. I'm gonna fuck him now. I need it wet. Do it for me." Bill pivoted on his knees and took me fully into his gaping mouth. I could feel the warm spit running down my shaft as he carried out my orders. He ran his tongue down my balls and then with one final stroke, he lubricated my entire length. I pulled away, and steadied myself into position.

My balls ached with anticipation, and seeing this construction worker's ass in front of me put me into a frenzy. I knew that this was a virgin ass, and that I had to go slow, so I took a deep breath and moved in for the penetration. The tip of my prick pressed up against his burning hole and I leant forward with slight pressure to enter him. I could feel him shaking, but at the same time, wanting me. I wanted to be inside him, deep inside him.

With every click of the clock, I applied more and more pressure, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, I could feel the slick track enveloping my cock. It was almost as if he drew me deeper with sheer will, and as I approached the half way mark, he grabbed onto Chris in front of him and held tight. Chris' breathing became rapid, and I feared that he would come prematurely. Reaching around, my left hand touched Chris' shoulder and he looked into the mirror in front of him.

There are some advantages to being deaf, and one of them is the ability to read lips. I slowly mouthed the words that I wanted to say to him without sound: `Squeeze his cock in your ass.... HARD.' Chris looked at me and understood, lowering his head once again, and bracing himself on the sink. Chuck emitted a low toned growl and I knew that Chris had begun his task. As Chuck's cock was put under pressure and the muscles in Chris' ass tightened even more around the cock inside it, I could feel Chuck's ass release and I plunged deep inside of him.

I wrapped my arms around his massive chest in front of me, and held tightly. Savoring the feeling of warmth and security and the idea of having my cock in a place never before touched my another man gave me a rush of sexual awareness, and every nerve in my body began to quiver. My pubic hair was crushed against his buns, and I wanted to go deeper yet, exploring the inner depths of this fantasy man.

Keeping my task in prospective, I remembered that I had made a deal for the injustice that was directed toward my deaf companion. Chuck had to feel the anger that I had stored inside me and pay for his mistake. Although my selfish desire to fuck this man was strong, the offer that I made was still in effect. I wanted him to feel my wrath. Pulling my cock out so that only the very tip was still inside him, I thrusted forward with all my strength.

I expected him to scream in pain as I rammed into him intending to make him hurt. He did not fulfill my wish, but accepted all of my manhood into him and at the same time took the opportunity to writhe deeper into his own secure setting within Chris. He wanted it rough, and I was willing to give him all I had.

My hands dug into his sides and with short and deliberate movements, I pounded my cock into his ass. I pulled and pushed his pelvis, controlling his movements into the blonde boy's body. Within seconds, we had attained a rhythm that could not have been choreographed any better. It was as if the three of us had been doing this for eternity and it was the most natural motion in our repertoire.

The three of us were connected cock to ass, cock to ass. I had never experienced this before, but it seemed incredibly easy. I was becoming rough now, and controlling the three of us completely. Chris was in his glory - having Chuck inside him, a 9 inch snake nestled into his rectum. Chuck was getting the best of both worlds, secure into Chris' tight warm hole, and me inside his virgin canal. I, of course, had the power of the chain, and used it to my full advantage, trying to coordinate all the pleasure for the group.

Bill still kneeled beside me, almost in awe of the events transpiring. The look of his face was of amazement and envy. I could tell that he wanted to be part of the action, but could not find the last ounce of motivation and confidence that he needed. That was my job, and I wanted to include him. "Bill, get between my legs. Lick my balls. Lick them hard, and watch us fuck. Watch us fuck each other. Up close.... do it. Suck on my sack."

My estimate of the incentive needed for Bill to participate was incredibly accurate. Upon the last word falling from my lips, he swung into action. He had completely forgotten that Dave was watching all of us, and in the mirror I could see him stroking his own meat. He was too new to the scene, and would never join in, but the thought of this he-man looking at us entangled together and preparing himself to shoot a load, made me even more excited.

I could feel Bill's tongue swabbing my balls, and each lick was like a cooling fan prompting me to hold off ejaculation. Chuck was loose now, and the traverse of my cock was smooth within him. With every inch of entrance that I was granted, I pushed him to the limit. He had to pay dearly for his actions. He was to be punished. I grabbed the back of his hair and pulled his head backwards toward me. He opened his eyes in fear and whimpered slowly, "More, please. Don't stop, fuck me more, please."

"I'd love to fuck you to death, Chucky. You're gonna get punished for what you did. I'm gonna cum so deep inside you, you won't forget it until the day you die. Pull out of the kid. Spin him around and sit him on the sink. Go at it from the front. I want him to shoot on your chest." Bill heard me barking at Chuck to carry out my demands. I felt for the first time that my every order would be obeyed. I dove deep into Chuck and held tightly.

When he pulled out of Chris, the thin blonde gasped for air. Chuck wasted no time in lifting him off the ground and turning him around. I could see the silent ecstasy as he faced me. His legs snapped to his sides as he knew what he wanted. With one shot, Chuck was in again, and pumping furiously. I matched the fury and added to it. I could still feel Bill in a frenzy below me and looked down to see him pumping his rod.

It was time to release, and I could no longer hold it. My balls were swelling to a size that I had never felt before, and Chuck's hot anus was eating my cock alive. From between my legs, Bill's hot breath became rapid, and I felt him shudder. Like a lash of a whip, a burning stream of cum hit my inner thigh, then again, and once again. I felt it searing into my flesh. The feeling of Bill's juices running toward my knees set me off.

My head was thrown back and I felt the rush of semen throughout my groin racing into Chuck's body. My heart stopped, breathing was halted, and every muscle in my body tightened as I thrust into him. I could feel his sphincter close around the base of my cock, strangling the flow of liquid, and retaining what had already been deposited. Chris began to squeal as his own spurting began.

I watched as the thick stream of jism was propelled from his thin, hard tool. It splashed against his face, his neck, his small nipples, and continued to quiver and squirt onto his smooth stomach. Chuck leaned forward and raised up onto the tips of his feet, gaining momentum for the final thrust. He fell frontward into his goal, and Chris grabbed his face and inserted his tongue into Chuck's mouth. Chuck's body tightened and began to tremor as he achieved orgasm.

In my mind I visualized the rush of cum from his cock, the heat of his lust, and the acceptance of Chris' insides which waited for the soothing flow of liquid. The deaf boy opened his mouth wide and received Chuck's tongue as deeply as he could. The sight of this made me continue to cum. It was like I had opened a faucet and was draining the built up anxiety that had been trapped for days.

Simultaneously, Chuck, Chris, and I were draining our bodies of the manly secretion of which life was dependant upon. Sound and sight were not issues at this point - only the physiological bond with which we were injecting each other. There were no longer three people connected by sexual apparatus, but one mass of flesh that was melting toward the ground, mixing into the amorphous glob of organic matter.

We all remained still, savoring the feeling. I felt Bill move to the side and then emerged from under us. He placed his hand on my back, and caressed me with his thumb. "Hey, you did it. Chuck learned his lesson. He needed that. So did I. I've needed this for months. Thanks." I looked toward my right, into Bill's smiling face. "Next time, YOU get the punishment Bill. Naughty boys need to be taught a lesson."

My body was relaxed and the heat penetrated deep into my skin. I heard the soft sounds of classical music cascading around my ears. There was no breeze, there was no air, only the heat. My watch beeped and I looked at it. 3:30PM on the head. I shifted the car out of neutral and inched forward, closing the gap between my car and the car in front of me. I glanced into the rear view mirror and smiled at the man in the car behind me. If he only knew why I was smiling so.

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Sunday, May 11, 2008

Piece on Earth

You don't see hitch-hikers on the freeway much any more: so I was past him and into traffic before I realized he was there. The glimpse I got in my rear-view mirror suggested his eyes had followed me as I passed, but I couldn't be sure. Still, the prospect of having a companion for the dull drive back to the City made it worth doubling back at the next interchange. I knew that when I got back to my starting point, he'd be gone: sure enough, the roadside was bare as I once again swung into traffic, cursing myself for not having stopped the first time, and wondering yet again why it seemed that whenever I traveled alone, there was never anyone hitch-hiking, but if I was traveling WITH someone, the roadsides were littered with cute guys!

So when, a few exits further on, I spotted him again, I pulled over and screeched to a halt. The head that popped into the window opposite me appeared to be that of a youth of (perhaps) 17 years: dark, almost black hair, sparkling brown eyes, smooth, tanned complexion, wispy dark fuzz on the upper lip; mediterranean or hispanic, I thought.

"Can you get me to Oakland?" the face asked?

"Right on my way: hop in," I replied. What happened to your previous driver?

He tossed his little bag into the back seat and settled in, fumbling with the old-fashioned lap belts in my car.

"The guy was a creep."

Rats, I thought, somebody's already hit on him, and he doesn't give out.

"A creep?"

"On his way to church. Said I should go with him and pray. Yuk!"

"Takes all kinds," I said.

"Cool set of wheels".

"Older than you, I expect." How was your Christmas?

"Bummer. Went home to see my mom and sisters, but my Dad was drunk the whole time. Yours?"

"Hah! Cooped up with an ancient and invalid step-mother for three days? As you said, 'bummer'. Must not have been much fun for you with your dad in that condition," I said, recalling for a moment the problems I'd had with my second lover, a lush.

"Oh, it's no biggie. He sucked me off just once when I was twelve, and he's been on a heavy guilt trip ever since."

Wow! I thought: I know today's youth are "up front", but something like this in the first five minutes of a conversation with a total stranger was startling for an old fart like me.

I replied, "Yes, in today's climate, I can see how it might be tough for him to deal with it, uh ..." I was fishing for a name.

"Juan", he supplied it. (Hispanic, then, I thought). "My dad is Mexican, my mom is Irish. My middle name is Kevin. My sisters are both as Irish as patty's pig".

"Well your dad has the added complication of coming from a culture that takes a dim view of, um, fathers blowing their minor sons".

"Yeah, I know all that. But I enjoyed that blow-job: in fact, my dad's still a hunk - I'd get it on with him in a minute if I thought he could handle it: but I'm sure he can't. What's your name?"

"Bruce." This lad has his act together, I thought. I wouldn't have dared to tell an adult such things when I was his age. Refreshing! And certainly, not bad looking, either. Not spectacular, just wholesome - and very young. We were on dangerous ground, given my many more years.

"Say, Bruce, just how old is this car, anyway? I sure runs nice!"

" '64 Chrysler New Yorker," I replied. My dad bought it new, though I suppose people seeing me drive it think I am its original owner. And it is older than you, right?"

"Oh, yeah: I'm a Bicentennial edition - 1976. I'll be 19 next April".

He has to be lying, I thought. But then, there are late-bloomers: I was one of them.

Juan had turned towards me and put his Levi-clad leg up on the seat. Between the end of his pants-leg and his sock was a short expanse of bare calf; there was a bit of peach-fuzz there to match his upper lip, but no more. I still thought 17 was closer to the truth.

"Hey, Bruce: would you like a hand-job?" Juan brought me out of my musings instantly!

"Oh, come on, Juanito," I said: "I'm old enough to be your Grandfather! A young dude like you isn't interested in an old fart like me!"

Juan put an exquisite "little-boy" pout on his face: "Don't call me 'Juanito'," he said quietly. And I see you don't believe I'm 18, either. I can't help it if I look younger, jeeeezus! I get carded at the 7-eleven just to buy a Pepsi - and I'm supposed to be the 'Pepsi Generation'!" He had dropped a hand to his crotch, and was not-so-subtly groping himself.

Ah, the sensitivity of youth! I should have remembered more of my own: I had blundered.

"I'm sorry," I said as sincerely as I could. "There is nothing wrong with looking as young as you do, and you should relax and enjoy it, for it'll be gone before you know it."

"And you should relax and enjoy me," Juan replied, his face returning to its former brightness. "Actually, my Grand-dad was a handsome guy, judging from my mom's pictures. I've fantasized more than once about getting it on with him. And you're not an 'old fart': sure, you're older than I am, but so what? You aren't going to tell me you don't get horny, are you?"

"No, indeed, I'm not!" I replied. "Three days with that old hen has left me, ah, 'horny', as you put it."

"Good!" Juan unbuckled his lap belt, and slid across the expanse of seat separating us. He expertly flipped the top button of my pants, slid the zipper down, and put his glabrous hand inside my pants. When that hand found my stiffened member, I was instantly transported back to 1951, when the first hand other than my own had touched me "there".

The summer after my freshman year in High School I spent a lot of time with a neighbor who, like myself, was "into" old cars. I was 17, Jim one year older. His dad owned a hardware store, and made a lot more money than my dad (a teacher), so Jim never lacked anything. But he wasn't "stuck-up", like most of the wealthier kids in town. Jim and I had been pals for years.

One warm summer evening, Jim said he had something to show me. We went to his small work-room attached to the garage, and from a shelf he took down a coffee-can innocently labeled "spikes". Inside was an envelope which he handed to me, and inside the envelope was a thick wad of photographs. These were all of guys, all of them with hard-ons. I was astounded! I was fascinated!

"The folks gave me one of those new Polaroid instant cameras for my birthday," Jim explained. (These were expensive, I knew: I'd wanted one, but hadn't even bothered to ask...).

While there was a certain, uh, repetitiveness about the collection, it riveted my attention. Each photo was just the mid-section of each guy - no faces, or identifying features to be seen. Most of the guys had just pushed their pants to their knees, pulled their shirts up, and "strutted their stuff" for the camera. The pricks were the "focus" of attention, they were all hard - and as I shuffled through the collection, my own pecker emulated them.

"Do I know any of these guys?" I asked breathlessly.

"Most of them," Jim replied. (He took the pack and shuffled them quickly) "That's Don" (another quick shuffle) "that's Eric" -- "that's me".

My mind was exploding. I'd always wanted to see my friends' dicks hard, rather than soft like in the showers at school, but had never dared ask. For that matter, I'd always wanted to see Jim's cock - I'd even groped him once or twice, but without effect - and here in my hand was a picture of it, hard, a lot like my own, but different in its way. I was speechless - and horny as hell!

"You want to pose?" Jim asked. "I have film..."

"Aw, jeeez, I don't know..."

"Here: stand in front of the door there," (I suddenly recognized the backdrop for most of the pictures in my sweaty hands) "and I'll shoot from over here. These things are amazing, really..."

I was in a daze. The bulge in my pants could no longer be hidden, but I noticed a similar bulge in Jim's trousers. Jim was fiddling with the camera just a few feet away, and in my clammy hands I now held (in a sense) the "essence" of a dozen or more of my classmates. I stood in front of the closed door, and studied again the pictures I held. Just as I found one of a particularly well-endowed youth, Jim took the pack from me, and told me to drop my pants. Gawd, I was nervous! Sweat gathered in my armpits. I fumbled with my belt, unzipped, and moved my pants down to my knees. My pecker tented my shorts, and as I went for the elastic, there was a terrific FLASH! Jim pulled something out of the camera and glanced at his watch.

The next sixty seconds was an eternity. With my pants at half-mast, I hobbled over to where Jim stood with the camera. Finally, he opened the camera's back, and peeled out the still-developing picture. The image sharpened, and there I was, or at least there was the mid-section of me, my fingers poised to lower my shorts and my evident hard-on pushing out the snowy fabric. It was, I remember thinking, the most exciting photograph of myself I'd ever seen.

"Another!" exclaimed Jim.

I hobbled back in front of the door. "Wait," I said, "I have to get these pants off." I turned and lifted one leg to remove a shoe: FLASH! I finished getting out of my pants, and waited again the requisite 60 seconds. Presently I was able to view myself with a hairless leg drawn up, a youthful arm in front of it, un-tying my shoelaces. "Neat!" Jim said: "Another!"

He took an entire packet of 8 pictures of me. Then he spread them out on a newspaper on the workbench. "Gotta put this coating stuff on 'em, or they fade out," he explained. I, naked now, watched as he took the pinkish squeegee out of its tube and carefully coated each picture. The acrid smell of acetic acid hit my nostrils. (I have forever since associated that smell with sex). I stood next to Jim, one hand on his shoulder as he bent to the task. My hard-on raged. Boldly, I reached around and groped him, and felt the hardness of his dick. I fumbled with his zipper, and got my hand inside. "Wait: not here," Jim said, capping the tube of smelly stuff. "These have to dry a while." He grabbed my hand and led me through the door into the garage. We climbed into the back seat of his dad's '49 Caddie - such luxury! - and he pushed his pants and shorts down to his ankle. Jim had hairy legs! I ran my hand over them, then gripped his throbbing member.

He moaned and let me play with him, then suddenly turned and put his hand on my red-hot poker. I had never been "touched" there before, and the effect was electrifying! "Jeeeeeeeeez!" I exclaimed. Jim fumbled under the seat and produced an old towel: not a moment too soon, either, because his hand jacking me off had the expected result within seconds, and I began to shoot big wads of boy-cum every which-way. Before I was through cumming, I grabbed Jim's dick, and within moments he erupted as well...

"Uh, Juan, do you mind if I take the back road through the hills? I hate this heavy traffic, and there's a spot I know where we could park..."

"Fine with me, Gramps," Juan replied. His ministrations to my tumescence had sent me into my reverie, but now, with juices beginning to flow, I found concentrating on my driving a bit difficult. Besides, I wanted more of this boy. I had put my arm around his lean shoulder, but I had not encouraged him to do any more than play with me: that, of itself, was so delightful, that anything more would likely send me over the edge anyway.

As I dove off the freeway and headed into the fields by an older back road, Juan bent over and took my pecker in his mouth. I dropped my hand to the back of his neck, and toyed with his straight dark hair. The stiff hairs of his tapered cut on the back of his neck were unbelievably sexy. Driving more slowly now, I slipped back in time to my first blow-job.

In Jim's collection of photos I had noticed one particularly long toad- stabber, which turned out to belong to someone I did NOT know: Jim told me his name was Butch, and he was only in the eighth grade! With my new- found fondness for grabbing dick, I wanted to see that one for myself. It turned out that my step-brother, in the 7th grade, knew Butch (who lived close by), so I got Dougie to invite him over. Dougie was still pre- pubescent and he did not interest me much, but Butch (the name referred to his haircut, so popular then) was something else. He was taller than me by a head, and very precocious (as I knew from the pictures). He was incredibly "sexy", and when I boldly told him I had seen Jim's pictures of him, he turned out not to be averse at all to "fooling around". I got rid of Dougie, and Butch and I repaired to a corner of our storage barn, where I had an old bed sort of hidden by all the other junk. It was my "hideaway". Not only was Butch precocious: he was always horny, and willing to try just about anything.

Butch had gloriously smooth skin with just a light dusting of light-brown hair. But he had a generous bush in his crotch, and from it sprang this really amazing prong, among the longest I have ever seen. Butch had absolutely no qualms about shucking his Levis and letting me have my way with him. So long as I kept him hard (not difficult) he let me play with his dick for hours. He loved to be the object of attention, and in our oft-repeated sessions, he would only occasionally actually play with me. We usually ended up in a contest to see who could come first, contests I invariably won, because playing with his glorious body always got my juices flowing, and because (for whatever reason) Butch was just naturally slow to shoot his wad. He was only 15 then, but far ahead of me physically. Perhaps my more normal endowment was a disappointment after clutching his own graceful pecker for so long.

But he was occasionally willing to experiment, and one hot summer night as we rolled around on that crummy bed, I was seized with the impulse to suck on his dick, something I had never done. I could not take much over half of it, so I augmented my mouth with one fist. Butch enjoyed this so much that he was moved to do the same for me, and in one blazing instant I was made aware of the inadequacies of the five-fingered shuffle. Nevertheless, after making this stunning discovery, we finished up in the usual way. Un-practiced and amateurish though it was, my first blow-job was an instant suck-cess.

But sometime that summer a girl in town discovered what Butch had in his pants, and he was out of my life in an instant. His nick-name was not so inappropriate, after all...

On the other hand, Juan's head bobbing between my legs was neither that of one highly experienced, nor that of an amateur. He knew what he was doing, but the confines of the front seat and some interference from the steering-wheel combined to make his effort less than wholly satisfactory. Further-more, I was scarcely participating, having still to concentrate on avoiding driving off the road, and my desire to really "know" my young friend was increasing steadily. So I was glad to see the side road that I knew about appear ahead. I slowed and turned on to it: I knew from past explorations that it went just a short way into a side canyon where there had once been a farmhouse. Juan sat up in some alarm as the car lurched over the potholes: "Hey, where are we?" he asked. "What's up, Gramps?"

I turned the car around and parked. I did my best to put my face into a pout and turned to Juan.

"Don't call me 'Gramps'," I said, trying to be stern. Juan looked me in the eye; I saw apprehension in his.

"Awww, don't feel bad; I didn't mean to hurt you. I think you're really neat..."

I could not contain my laughter - never was good with a "straight face". I moved out from beneath the wheel, gripped Juan's head, and pulled him to my lips. I kissed him passionately, and he melted in my arms. When we broke apart, I said (still chuckling), "If you like to call me 'Gramps', you can do so any time. I really don't mind."

Juan's eyes brightened, and he gave me a wet, slurpy kiss on my cheek. "In that case", he breathed into my ear, "You can call me 'Jaunito'...

"The back seat is more comfortable, Juan," I said, reaching across to open the door on his side. We tumbled out, and got into the back.

"Wow! the back of mom's toyota is nothing like this!"

"No, they don't build 'em like this any more. There's a whole generation of kids who were conceived in the back seats of cars like this."

"I believe it," Juan said, settling into the deep cushions with a sexy wiggle. This is a real playroom!"

"So, let's play!" So saying, I reached over and flipped open the buckle of his belt. The action caused another flash back to my own youth...

I eventually posed for a second set of Polaroid pictures for Jim, so I could have a set of my own; he also gave me a few others that he seemed to have lost interest in, including a great shot of Butch, my favorite. I hid these under the mattress of the bed in my hideaway in the barn. There were those occasions when no one else was around to play with, and I would have to go study those pics and jack myself off.

Although my dad had married his mother, my step-brother Dougie and I did not seem to hit it off. Neither did our parents, for that matter! But after I learned the joy of sucking cock, I began to wonder if Dougie might like to benefit from my insights into feeling good. But I could never seem to find a way to bring up the subject.

Then one day, after phoning around and finding no one to play with, I repaired to my hideaway. As I walked the labyrinth of cartons I'd arranged to make it private, I heard noises. In the open space I found Dougie, trying hard to squeeze out of sight between the rough boards of the wall and some piled up junk. But, I'd caught him in the act. My collection of pictures was strewn over the bed. The little sneak had found me out!

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the room. "So, you've found my little hideaway, eh Dougie?" I said gruffly. He was shaking. "Now, how are we going to be sure the whole neighborhood doesn't find out about this, eh?"

"I w-won't tell anyone, I promise!" Dougie cringed.

"And did you enjoy my selection of pictures?" I asked as sarcastically as I could.

"They're...they're..." Dougie was out of words.

"Did your little pecker get hard as you looked at my buddies' dicks?" I asked. Dougie's legs were about to go out from under him. I was enjoying a feeling of power I had never experienced. Even though there was less than two full years between us, we were many more years apart in development. I let go of his shirt, swept the pictures into a corner of the bed, and roughly pushed Dougie down on the sagging mattress. It was not all that obvious, but yes, he surely did have a hard-on.

I dove for the top of his pants as if possessed. I yanked his pants down the way I'd seen guys do at school when they were harassing a younger kid; his pants turned inside out as I pulled them roughly off, and his shoes came off with them. Dougie began to cry, and he threw his hands over his stiffy. I decided to enjoy the view as he sobbed uncontrollably. There was not a hair to be seen on him anywhere, but as it was summer, he had a tan-line. For some reason, I had never paid any real attention to him, even though he ran around the yard in his bathing suit most of the time. Looking back on it, I realize he was just at the onset of puberty: his baby-fat was gone, his muscles were showing a bit of definition. That he had an interest in sex seemed evident, and that he could be stimulated was obvious.

I suddenly knelt between his hairless, fully exposed legs, pushing them apart; then I grasped his wrists forcibly and uncovered his pubic area. Dougie was so scared that he began to pee! His piss-stream arched up over his smooth stomach and splashed down there, running away onto the already heavily soiled old blankets on the bed. When I released one wrist to retrieve a crusty rag from beneath the bed, his hand instinctively returned to cover himself, and he realized only then that he had lost control when he felt the warm pee striking his hand.

He bawled even more loudly, this time with humiliation. His eyes were tightly shut, and tears flowed copiously from beneath his lids and like his piss, fell away on to the bed. I stood up, tossed the old towel across his tummy, and shucked my clothes as fast as I could: I was not altogether sure why I was so turned on, but I was rock-hard, and the familiar warmth in my groin told me I was on a sexual high. Roughly, I mopped up the bulk of the wetness on his lithe body with the cum-stained rag, told him to stop crying, then bent down and took his entire little prick and his balls into my mouth. He calmed down almost at once, and his legs that were bent over the side of the bed suddenly straightened out. I knelt again between them, wrapped my arms around them, and sucked his dick far all I was worth. The salty, slightly acidic flavor of his recent discharge was new to me, and I found it strangely exciting.

I felt his small hands grip the sides of my head. I needed no encouragement, but those hands were urging me to increase my rhythm, and I complied. Suddenly he let out a great sob, his whole body began shaking violently, and what I felt sure was his first ejaculation exploded in my mouth as I, in my frenzy, worked my tongue around his neatly circumcised pecker-head. The flavor turned to that of boy-cum, almost cloyingly warm, smooth, and distinctive. I savored every drop. When at last his orgasm subsided, I released his legs, stood up, bent over, grabbed his arms and pulled him up into a sitting position: still in the grip of my power trip, I jammed my lurching pecker between his lips so forcibly that he had no chance to complain, and I fucked his mouth viciously. Of course, I shot my wad within seconds, and he gagged. When I withdrew, tears were still pouring down his face and my load of boy-cum drooled from his lips, down his chin, and dripped onto his pubic mound, still shiny with my spit.

At length I regained my composure. "So, Dougie, are you ever again going to sneak into my private space?" I asked.

"No, never..."

"And are you going to tell anyone what WE (you and me!) did in here just now?"

"No, never..."

"And will you ever so much as breathe a word to anyone about those pictures?"

"No, no, I don't know about 'ny pictures..."

" 'Cause you know if you do, I'm going to tell that you pissed yourself..."

"No, no..."

"And I'm going to say it was you that wanted to suck my cock..."

"..."

"And I'm going to say you enjoyed every minute of what we did together just now..."

Dougie sniffed up a big wad of tears and snot. "It did feel pretty good," he said weakly, wiping his chin with the soggy rag.

"Then I think we can go back to being step-brothers, you and me, OK?" I said, a little more gently.

"Yeah, I guess;" he was still a bit shaken. And he was hard again!

"Here, I'll show you how to take care of that," I said, and I grasped his wrist gently and wrapped his fingers around his woodie. "Rub it up and down" --I showed him the motion -- and stretched out along side him and demonstrated. He closed his eyes, jacked his dick sensuously, and grabbed my thigh as he sent another geyser of boy-juice skyward. His hand on my thigh sent me over the edge and I aimed my jism across on to his smooth tummy.

We never did it together again, but I got used to hearing the rhythmic bed-squeaks in his bedroom every night, until our folks parted company and he disappeared from my life.

Juan cooperated as I opened his pants and squirmed helpfully as I worked them over his buns and down to the floor of the car. What I found revealed before me took my breath away. There was no doubt that Juan was past puberty, but only just. His patch of pubic hair barely covered the area just above his dick, and what would someday be a more defined treasure-trail was as yet just the faintest outline of dark fuzz leading up to his navel. His ball-sack reminded me of a buckeye nut on the tree, wrinkled and fuzzy, but essentially without hair as yet. His dick was somewhat darker than the surrounding skin, and although he was cut, the skin on his tool was very loose.

There was not an ounce of fat on his frame, and his veins lay close to the surface, where they could easily be traced, especially as they threaded their way down the insides of his thighs. His musculature was perfection itself; it took no imagination, looking at his frontside, to imagine the glory of his backside. All this I drank in as my hands got busy feeling him up; his dick waved at me from time to time as my fingers found various erogenous zones whose urgent neuronal messages found their way to the center of his pleasure. He was fully relaxed, apparently confident that my intent was to make him feel as good as I could, and in this assessment he was not wrong.

There was absolutely no urgency about our love-making: we had the whole afternoon. So, while doing my best to tease Juan into some sort of wild orgasm, I still had plenty of time to admire his beautiful form. With his pants down and his shirt open, it became clear that his Hispanic genes predominated; I would not have guessed, seeing him thus, that he had any Irish blood in him at all. His ab muscles were prominent, his rib-cage a bit less so, and his pecs were perfectly formed. Large, dark nipples that would one day be hairy, I supposed, were now deliciously smooth, and they reacted to the teasing of my tongue by becoming hard like his dick. I searched in vain under his arms for anything more than a trace of hair, and while doing so, was reminded of the first time in my life that I had encountered someone whose ethnicity differed from my own.

Jim and I remained friends through high-school, though of course he graduated a year ahead of me. Apparently, his prowess with the Polaroid became widely known, and it became something of a status symbol to be included in his "rogues' gallery". Knowing how much I enjoyed his pictures, Jim often would make duplicates for me, though I was almost never included in his photo sessions. Since we still jacked off together a lot, I did not mind knowing that he was getting it on with lots of other guys; my active imagination needed only a couple of his photos to fill in the details.

One picture he showed me, but would never let me have though, could get my juices flowing faster than all the others. It was another boy in junior-high, who was Oriental. The picture was a trifle out of focus, and I longed to get a better view. But I no longer had contact with Butch or Dougie, so there was nothing to do but loiter around the school whenever I had time in hopes I could spot this kid and maybe get something going. There were so few Orientals around in those days, I thought it would be easy. But some months went by without my ever seeing even one. Just when I thought I would give it up, he stepped into my web so unexpectedly that I almost missed him.

My dad married a third time, and at his wedding reception I spied Kenji with his parents. I knew at once it was him, even though I had no more than Jim's picture to go on. It turns out my new step-mother and Kenji's mom taught in the same school! Not so long thereafter, some complicated arrangements fell through at the last minute and it fell to me to entertain Kenji at our house one night when everyone was at a conference out of town.

Kenji blushed when I mentioned casually that I knew Jim: he blushed more deeply when I told him I had seen his picture. He blushed even more deeply when I told him I wanted to have sex with him! I was a bold, in those days. But Kenji was willing, and we were alone, and I was bigger and older...

We got comfortable in front of a nice little fire. I'd found with other friends that it could be incredibly stimulating to have someone unbuckle my belt, open my pants, and lift my shirt over my head, even take off my shoes and socks. So I thought Kenji might respond to the same thing, and he certainly did. It was my good fortune that he liked to reciprocate! While still in our shorts, we began fondling and licking. I used my tongue on his inner thighs, working my way up to the cloth of his shorts, while my hands felt his arms, legs, face. (The value of hand work is often greatly under-estimated as a means of stimulating another guy). My exploration revealed erogenous zones Kenji never knew he had, like the cavities behind his knees, for instance.

He was only about 4-ft 6-inches tall, and in truth he looked just like a little boy. But he was long past puberty, perhaps farther past it than I. His shape, his incredibly smooth skin, and his almost total lack of body hair gave him the attributes of a pre-pubescent. He was, however, already skilled at making love (I never found out who had taught him) and he was able to teach even me a few things. And he was "verbal": he kept telling me things like, "You have great legs; I like your arms; neat hair;" things like that. He made me feel nice. I loved to run my fingers through his straight jet-black hair. We got into tonguing each other's eye-brows, and went from there to heavy kissing and tongue-tasting. While cupping his still-clothed crotch with my hand I lightly ran my hand up his thighs and slipped a finger under his shorts.

Of course we had both long-since gotten very hard and Kenji was the first person to remove my shorts with his teeth, which nearly sent me over the edge too soon. Finally, we were together buck-naked, basking in the glow of the fire and getting very excited. After a lingering kiss, I moved down, slowly licking my way across his chest, down along his smooth, tan stomach, on past his cock to lick his balls; then I worked my tongue around the head of his rigid cock before I went down on it completely. He moaned with pleasure at the sensation, but swung his gorgeous little body around so we could do a sixty-nine (new to me at the time!)

Presently, Kenji said he had to take a whiz, and as he stood up and walked out of the room I admired the nice musculature and general sexiness of his body. Recalling my excitement watching Dougie, I got up and followed Kenji into the bathroom. He stood at the toilet, and I knelt behind him and gently turned him around, aiming his pecker at my open mouth.

"I can't piss with a hard-on, silly!" he said. "Wait here, and don't "go" 'till I get back," I said.

I ran to the kitchen, pushed the ice-dispenser bar on the fridge, and got two round cubes in my hand: I rushed back to the john and resumed my position before Kenji. Then I took the hand with the ice cubes and worked them up around his balls.

"Ooooh, wow, that's cold!" he said, startled: but it had the effect I wanted: his cock lost its turgidity almost at once, and scarcely thinking about it, he began to pee in my waiting mouth. I drank his water as if in a desert, finding its flavor astringent but not unpleasant. Pumping out his last drops got his pecker started towards hard again, and we went back to the fire.

After more delicious foreplay, another new idea hit me. "Let's take a shower together," I said. Kenji giggled, but he was game for it. He helped me up, and we ran like school-kids back to the bathroom. We stepped into the shower-stall, closed the door, and turned on the water, adjusting it quite hot. I soaped him all over, relishing his statuesque beauty, smooth-ness and sensuality. The combination of hot water, fragrant soap, and slipperiness got us both very excited! We switched places and he soaped me down, too. Over and over I had to stop him briefly while I "cooled down": it was sensational! Even toweling off was a turn-on.

We dozed briefly, wrapped in each other on the sheepskin in front of the fire. But eventually foreplay began again, this time a little more fervently, a bit less tentatively, because now we both knew more about what each of us liked. Kenji rolled over on top of me, and slipped his hard-on between my legs while I kissed him and ran my hands through his still-wet hair. He humped me slowly, then moved up and drove his dick into my waiting mouth while I held his tense thighs in each hand and assisted the motion. I knew he was almost ready to come, and decided this was a neat way to take his load. His thigh muscles worked beneath my fingers, he cried out, and I felt his warm exudate flood the back of my throat. His cum was sweet tasting and I loved it; it was something I could never seem to get enough of! He collapsed beside me, utterly spent. After a brief interlude, he took my dick in his hand and began a slow jack-off, running his other hand up the insides of my thighs and toying with my balls. I was so enthralled with his beauty and general sexiness that just a few strokes of his hand were enough, and I erupted and shot my load all over his gorgeous smooth tummy, his sparse pubic hair, and his thigh before I was through spurting. It was one of the most memorable hand-jobs I had had (out of many!) up to that time. We curled up together completely nude in my bed, and dropped off into that wonderful deep sleep that comes ONLY after a thoroughly satisfying sexual encounter.

Juan luxuriated in my attention. After perhaps a half hour of intimate exploration of everything I could reach, I decided to see if he still had any interest in me: I was, by this time, past being horny! I moved into a reclining position beside him and prepared to remove my pants.

"No! wait:" Juan seemed to awaken as if from a dream. "Let me do that."

He assumed the position I had so recently occupied, and began to work my pants down and under me. He was adroit. I looked down at the top of his head, where he had a sexy whorl of hair at the end of his part. My oppressed cock sprang out as he managed to get my pants and shorts out from beneath me, and he slid them down to my ankles. Then he bent down to my knee, and began virtually washing me with his tongue. I've always had sensitive legs, and his tongue licking me was incredibly exciting. I grabbed my cock because I could easily have shot my wad with a couple of strokes and his wild tongue-bath, but he pushed my hand away and ever-so gradually worked his way in between my thighs. When his bristly hair met my engorged balls, his tongue still bathing my inner thighs just a few inches below my crotch, I thought I might just lose my load without further ado.

I watched as his shapely head moved between my outstretched legs.

"What would your lover say, if he could see you now?" I asked.

Juan paused long enough to say, "Don't have a lover; still playin' the field." He resumed his enthusiastic application of his tongue to my private parts, but after a few minutes, rose up to ask, "What's it like to have a lover?" I reached down, pulled him up beside me on the car seat, and drew one of his shapely legs across my lap: he nestled my rigid pole in the fold behind his knee. "That's a tough question to answer," I said, "but let me try..."

In my freshman year at Junior College, having at last taken on some of the physical characteristics of young manhood -- which meant I was no longer hassled as a "sissy" in the gym -- I got mildly interested in sports. Though I loved the "body-contact" of basketball, I was still too uncoordinated to do well at it. Hence, I spent most of my time on the bench, happily pressing my bare legs against any of my team-mates who would allow it. As the weeks wore on, I realized that most often that team-mate was Ed. Though fair of skin, Ed was very hairy, which I found to be a real turn-on. He never pulled his legs away when we sat close on the bench, and once or twice I fancied that my slight pressure, so carefully applied, was re-turned; but I couldn't be sure. I had no reason to suspect Ed had the slightest interest in me.

One week-end, Ed invited me to his place, along with several others: the intent was a pick-up game of basketball in the driveway of his folks' house. It was a warm, sunny day, and I got there early, so we shucked our shirts and shot some baskets to pass the time. I realized quite un- expectedly that I very much "wanted" this handsome guy. As luck would have it, none of the other guys showed up: only several years later did I discover that Ed had actually only invited me!

When the novelty of the two-up game wore off, and we'd worked up a good sweat, Ed suggested a swim in their pool to cool off. In the pool-house, he shucked the rest of his clothes unabashedly and rinsed his sticky bod in the tiny shower. The way the water interacted with his black body- hair, plastering it down to the surface in streaks, fascinated me: in shape and appearance, he was splendidly put together, and I could not take my eyes off him. The cold shower helped to prevent any embarrassment on my part, and in a few moments we were splashing around in the pool. After a bit of actual swimming, we both wound up sitting, submerged from our waists down, on a stair into the shallow end. I realized with a start that neither of us had bothered with swim-trunks (not being much of a swimmer, I did not even own a pair). There, within easy reach, nestled in a thicket of silky black hair was Ed's shriveled dick. He put his head back on the rim of the pool and his body floated free: his eyes were closed. On impulse, I stood in the water, placed one hand underneath his shapely buns, and without warning bent over and slurped his dick into my mouth. It was wonderfully soft: I think it was the first SOFT cock I'd ever tasted. When it began to stir, I got worried about the directness of my approach, and sat back down in the water: Ed did likewise.

"Would you believe me if I told you I'd fantasized a thousand times about your doing that?" he asked.

"Really? Why'ncha say so!" I replied. "Should I do it again?"

"No, not here, not now. We'll go inside."

We returned to the pool-house, rinsed the chlorinous water from ourselves, and picked up big soft towels. Emboldened by his earlier remark, I threw a towel against his back and began patting him dry. He leaned against me; I reached around with the towel in my hands and rubbed his chest and his flat stomach: I could not quite reach his crotch, but his wet hair falling in my face, still smelling faintly of chlorine, was an aphrodisiac. I was rapidly developing a hard-on, which he could doubtless feel against his buns. After a few minutes of this, he turned around, grasped my head powerfully, and kissed me, driving his tongue between my lips then sucking my tongue into his mouth. He pressed his body against mine, and I felt his now rigid pecker slide between my legs. This was no casual kiss: it was blazing passion! We embraced this way, kissing, hugging, pressing urgently against each other for what seemed like hours. Presently, he slowly broke away, gently took my towel and rubbed down every inch of me. He wiped my dick as if it were his own, without embarrassment, without undue attention either. When he had dried me to my toes, I did the same for him, discovering as I did so how sexy he really was.

A trifle shorter than I, about 5-foot ten-inches, I guessed. The same age as myself, now 21. But where I still had traces of baby fat and rather poor muscle definition, he had only young-man muscle, sharply defined but not over-grown. He was heavily carpeted with jet-black hair: not the typical curly stuff one is apt to find, but long, dead-straight, fine and silky, the hair on his head and under his arms indistinguishable from that of his treasure trail and all around his dick. As for that, it was "classic": perfectly circumcised, dead straight, close to six inches long, with prominent veins and a clearly defined urethra along the bottom. His balls, in their silky black shroud, were in perfect proportion to his cock, which stood at rapt attention as I dried his body.

We stood now, both dry, both nude, and both erect. Not twenty words had yet passed between us: but I knew this was a special moment. We drank each other in, each apparently pleased, and completely at ease with each other. At length, he spoke: "Wouldja like a beer?"

My dad was a tee-totaler; I had never yet tasted beer, but the frosty glass Ed handed me was welcome, as it was getting warm in the pool-house. We sat together on a sofa, close; Ed put his hand around my shoulders and we drank in silence, our erections pulsing from time to time. Cares and problems seem to melt away and our bodies communicated contentment. Conversation seemed unnecessary. As my first taste of anything alcoholic emboldened me, I caressed Ed's hirsute leg, fascinated by the unfamiliar feeling of his abundant hair. Silently, we moved to the nearby bed and began to explore each other intimately. Before the afternoon was over, we had fit ourselves together in every possible way and had maintained our state of sexual animation, without reaching any climax, for close to three hours. Scarcely a word passed between us, though numerous other noises signaled a degree of satisfaction I'd never experienced from just "being with" another guy.

When we heard noises in the house, we dressed, helping each other. Fully clothed, Ed embraced and kissed me savagely, pressing his body tightly to mine. Suddenly he froze: he stopped breathing, and I knew from the rhythmic pulse I felt against my stomach that he was cumming. When at last he relaxed, a hot blast of his breath flowed sensuously past my ear, and he said, "Bruce, I love you." I was dumfounded! Did I really excite this guy so much that just hugging him would get him off? This was something new. And what about this "love" thing? My experience up to then with boy-lust and teen-age horniness had left no room for the idea of "love". Wow!

"Damn!" he said. Releasing me, he went into the bathroom and shucked his pants. Right behind him, I pulled down his white shorts, besoaked with his exudate, the familiar smell flooding my nostrils. I whipped out my own rod, stuffed a soggy fold of his shorts into my mouth, grabbed my cock: Ed put a leg up on the toilet, moved me into position, and within seconds I shot my wad all over his hairy thigh - more cum, I thought, than I'd ever produced before. When I was nearly done, Ed grasped my dick and milked it, squeezed out the last drops of my load and shook them on to his leg. As I began to relax, he kissed me again and again and again, until at last some semblance of composure came over us both. He cleaned up his leg with a towel, pulled on his pants without his shorts, which I wadded up and slipped into a pocket.

Later that night, when I had returned home and was lying in bed hoping to sleep, I sucked every drop of cum out of those shorts, and reveled in my new-found friend's aroma. The sensation of him holding me and dropping a load in his pants was so fresh in my mind that I could experience it again, aided by that pair of gooey shorts, which then absorbed my second load of the day.

Ed was my first true lover. The books all say he was the best, and they're right. We lived together, enraptured by each other, for more than three years: military service intervened, and a bullet in some far-off land ended it. It was Ed who taught me to say "I love you", and mean it.

"I wonder if it will be that way for me," Juan mused dreamily as I concluded my tale.

"It'll be something like that, I expect," I said: "The details will be different, but the feeling will be about the same. You will know by instinct. But for now..."

It was growing late: there was some distance to go before reaching Oakland. I pressed Juan over onto his back on the seat and began a long, torturous and convoluted tongue-bath, commencing with his dark eye-brows, briefly frenching his ears and blowing softly into them; on down, toying with each brown nipple; then on down the smooth expanse of his stomach. I purposely by-passed his cock, now oozing a bit of pre-cum, and began a slow ascent from his knees up towards his balls. He shivered as I swept my tongue in long strokes up his inner thighs, and moaned softly as I lifted his legs and bathed his perineum. I briefly explored his exquisite anus, which animated him so that I thought he might toss his load before I was ready to receive it. There was nothing I wanted at that moment more than to feel his starchy load spraying my tonsils! And when I put his legs back down and went down on his lovely cock, he arched his back and roughly drew my left hand under his buns. My finger quickly found his hole, and penetrated it easily. With my years of experience, I knew just where to apply a bit of pressure, and it sent him over the edge. Wave after peristaltic wave, his gloriously sweet teen-juice flooded my throat. I thought (and hoped) it would never end, but of course it did eventually; I carefully withdrew my finger and he relaxed back on the car seat, breathing heavily. His thigh muscles were still knotted and his dick still throbbed in my mouth. Calm slowly returned.

"Jesus, Maria y Josefa!" he uttered the words as if astonished. "You are the man with the golden throat!" he exclaimed.

"Well, to quote an old saying, 'There's many a good tune in an old fiddle, all it needs is a good Beaux,'" I said.

Juan chuckled. "So, gramps, now it's your turn!"

So saying, Juan applied the golden rule: he did unto me as I had done unto him. By the time I reached nirvana, he had me so wound up I nearly passed out from the sheer pleasure. I flooded his honeyed throat with my long-pent effusion, and he took every drop of it. I tend to "dribble", and as I slowly came down from this thoroughly unexpected high, he repeatedly took my softening tool between his lips and milked out those last drops of jizz.

"Gotta pee," he said, as he opened the door and stepped out into the waning sunshine, his pants only part-way pulled up. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on his olive skin, and his piss-stream gleamed as it arched to the ground. He was breathtakingly beautiful. He could have been that funny fountain in Brussels, grown up a bit. I wiggled into my clothes.

"Come along, Juanito," I said - I have to get you to Oakland, and myself home."

Once back on the smooth highway, he curled up on the seat with his head in my lap and slept soundly. Even in this quiet state, he was beautiful, and I had trouble concentrating on my driving...

"Where in Oakland?" I asked, gently teasing his hair to awaken him.

"Can I come live with you?" he asked meekly.

"No, bambino: my life is behind me, but you have yours entirely ahead of you. You need to find your first lover, and your second, or whoever it is that will make your life exciting. There's a hunky young guy about your age out there just waiting to make you his..."

"Broadway and Telegraph, then: I can walk from there..."

"Good: maybe you'll meet Mr. Right on the way!"

"Who knows?"

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