Date: Sun, 17 May 2009 23:21:28 -0400 (EDT) From: Clark Building Subject: Auto Mechanics for Certain Boys When I was fourteen, my divorced parents arranged for me to spend half of summer vacation with my mother who worked all day leaving me to hang around the house all day, five days a week. There was a neighbor down the street who worked nights at Douglas Aircraft where he was some kind of engineer. During the day he was rebuilding the engine of a Jaguar XK120 sportscar in his garage. I wandered in one day and started asking questions, getting in the way, and generally making a pest of myself, but he made the effort to be very, very nice to me. I handed him a tool once in awhile, or wiped up oil or grease. I returned each day, having little else to do. I wasn't much help really. In those days, I was kind of a loner kid, slender and fit and a little swishy. Having lived with my Swedish grandparents from infancy to about age ten, I was allowed to have long hair, not really common for boys in those days. I liked it because frankly it was lovely to look at, a straw colored blonde lightened on top by the sun. I was often mistaken for a girl, a fact that bothered me not at all. My grandparents seemed to treat me like a girl and to prefer that I was a girl. I was kind of girl-like in other ways as well. I kept myself clean and neat, more so than ordinary boys my age, my fingernails always clean and properly trimmed. I was still in the peach fuzz stage, without facial hair to speak of. Anyway, after a few days of my idle chatter, my engineer began get more friendly and to touch me now and then in a friendly way, mess my long blond hair, stroke the side of my face, hug me quickly across the shoulders. I sometimes touched his arm with my hand or put my hand up his sweaty back under his loose t-shirt as he was bent over the fender of the car. I saw the way he looked at me when I did something like that and I knew the little wheels in his head were turning. He liked to be touched by effeminate little me. One day I got into his car and sat in the drivers seat trying to reach the pedals with their odd backward slant, typical of XK Jaguars. It was a very strange car and I wondered if I might someday get a chance to drive it. After a few minutes of my messing around in the cockpit, what a name, he got into the passenger seat and started making idiotic small talk about whether I liked his car, did I think I would like to drive one like it when I was older, stuff like that. As usual, I was wearing shorts. He stroked my leg, making some inane comment about me getting tan from the summer sun. He kept stroking my leg, watching my face for some sign, of protest, I suppose. Instead, I closed my eyes and my breathing increased as my little cock got stiff and I imagined he was about to touch it. He did not, but I was certain that he noted my reactions. The very next day, when I came into the garage, he looked up and down the street, apparently to make sure no one was watching my arrival, then closed the garage door. He invited me into the adjoining house, through the kitchen and into the living room. He instructed me to watch the TV while he took a quick shower and to help myself to Cokes in the fridge. I opened a Coke and turned on the TV to some mindless daytime show, sat back on the couch and kicked off my sandals, feet up on the coffee table. In a few minutes he came out in a robe, smelling of soap, still dripping, but mostly dried off and fresh. Without a word, he took the Coke from my hand and pulled me over to sit on the ottoman. Him tall, me short, he straddled my legs and pushed his crotch toward my face and opened his robe then closed it around my head. I was face to face with what then seemed like a very large penis, certainly much larger than my own, and I was really scared, or just excited. I thought that I had no idea what to do, or say. His dick was limp and dangled in my face for a brief time when my hot breath apparently affected its state of arousal. It began to rise and point at my face. I was not even tempted to pull away, as I recall, but frozen in my confused and ignorant excitement. I knew something great, but nasty and forbidden, was happening to me. My little cock was instantly bursting with joy. As his dick became perpendicular, I was cross-eyed looking at it when he opened his robe and took his stiff cock in his hand. It was, like mine, uncircumcised. He pulled back the foreskin and began drawing the wet tip across my face starting on my forehead. I closed my eyes and pushed my face forward for my sissy boy anointment. I was thrilled but scared. Scared that he would quit or that we would be discovered by someone else and get into trouble. I was basically an obedient child and tried to avoid getting into trouble. But I was willing to do whatever he wanted with me. By his hand, his wet cock went back and forth covering every pore of my face, into my eye sockets, all around my nose, my lips, my chin, and down my neck, then back up. After a few minutes, he said, "open," and I opened my eyes. "Your mouth," he said. And I opened wide. It was the most natural thing imaginable to me and to this day I remember being shocked at how much I enjoyed feeling and tasting his cock in my mouth. So big and smooth and firm, my tongue flicked and rolled about the head and crest and he made approving throaty grunts, you can tell when men like it. Cock sucking is pure pleasure for both parties, I am certain. It also seemed somehow familiar to me as I began bobbing my head, taking it in and out of my little face pussy, my lips milking the shaft. Only then did I remember that I had been forced by my uncle and my cousin about four or five years earlier to lick and suck their cocks during the year that I lived with them. I had repressed the memory, maybe because I was sworn to secrecy. More about that later. My forgotten cocksucking past was coming back into my consciousness just about the time my pedophile engineer ejaculated into my mouth. It was a taste I knew from long before, and I had no gag reflex, but took several swallows to get his big load down. What had changed in the intervening years was that my own sexual arousal had matured and, whereas at age ten, I just did what I was told, by age fourteen I was eager and hungry for it. For the next week, not much work was done to the Jaguar, as we were indoors messing around. I especially liked to have him fuck me in the ass. It was painful but left me feeling sexually used and powerfully girl-like. To have a man's cock up your ass is really something special. For him to get his rocks off in your rectum is very, very sexy. You should try it.