Date: Wed, 29 May 2019 15:35:05 -0400 (EDT) From: Five Hole Punch Subject: Baltimore Part Eight Please give to Nifty Baltimore Part Eight Kirk I had seen a boy hanging around the A-1 Mart a few times. He had an ashen complexion with purple circles under his eyes. His clothing was, today and on the other occasions I had seen him, an odd combination of a homemade sweater, baggy and worn cargo pants an inch or so too short, displaying a knitted pattern of socks not seen outside of Eastern European markets, on long legs inserted into the cheapest sort of shoes that could be had. I noticed him because, well, because he was a fourteen year old boy, but also because, on this day, I could tell he wanted to shoplift some snack cakes. He was very obviously contemplating this act with a conscience; a lot of other kids in this neighborhood would have snatched the goods with a practiced hand and a detached air. They would've been watched like the thieves they were by the Korean proprietor but the eagle eye of Mrs. Rhee seemed to pass over this boy - she knew her clientele. "Hey!" I called out, loud but not loud enough to alert Mrs. Rhee. The lad jumped and gave a look of guilt that was so ingenuous as to make me feel guilty at taking advantage of his simple nature. "Sorry, pal, I didn't mean to startle you," I apologized, "I was looking to get a pack of those snack cakes you're in front of." "Sorry ..." The teenager began, with a stumble, to slink away. "Hey, let me make it up to you. I'll get you a pack too." "You don't have to ..." "I know but I will anyway. Want some milk to go with `em?" "Y-yeah," was the hesitant reply. "What flavor?" "Chocolate." "Good choice, ah, what's your name? I'm having the same." As I grabbed a couple of milks from the cooler I heard, "Kirk, my name is Kirk." "Nice to meet you, Kirk. My name is Alex." I paid Mrs. Rhee and asked for a bag, I use it for my small kitchen trash can, which drove Mrs. Rhee over the fiscal edge; she was cheap when it came to bags. "Bags very expensive, you know." "I know but I have to get this stuff home, Mrs. Rhee." It didn't please her but she gave up the bag. I headed out the door with the stuff. "Hey, Kirk, I live across the street, you wanna come over and we'll eat our snack there?" "Umm, I don't know if I am supposed to." "C'mon, you've got ten minutes." I headed across the street with Kirk two steps back. I had the cakes. We got upstairs and I unlocked the door. "C'mon in," I invited. The boy looked torn. "It's okay," I coaxed. "I was told not to ...," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "Who told you that?" "Uh ..." "Look, Kirk, I don't know what you were told but it's okay, you can eat your snack and go, nothing is going to happen." The boy took me at my word. We sat at the table and ate. I found out that he was warned by a priest about "bad men" and his mother reinforced the message. I also found out he had heard of me, my reputation preceding me, because he heard that boys visited my apartment for sex (see footnote below). I told him that was true but that they wanted to come over and no boys did anything that they didn't want to do, it was up to them. I thanked him for coming over and told him to feel free come by again if he wanted to. I really was thinking of him so he wouldn't go hungry, not getting him in bed. I had enough visitors for sexual thrills. I saw him a few days later and asked if he "wanted some cake and moo juice." He thought it was funny; he had only started learning English four years earlier. Kirk did come on up for another snack treat. Kirk was a simple boy and I mean that as an objective observation not as an insult. He had a purity, a trust, not yet spoiled by religion or, in all honesty, the likelihood of intellectual concerns. He talked of his home country and his experiences in America. It was interesting to hear observations of the United States from another who came from such poor circumstances and what was taken for granted by many of his classmates. We had several conversations over milk and cake and developed an odd sort of friendship with nothing expected other than the conversation of the moment. I had no expectations of seducing this boy. Kirk appeared too shy and I was having an intense month with Joey. But the unexpected can happen. The first thing to happen was Kirk being "caught" in my apartment when Joey came knocking. They hadn't met before but I did notice that Kirk looked embarrassed and made a quick exit. I hadn't realized how affected he was until I noticed he did not show up for nearly two weeks at the A-1 Mart. Then there came a knock at my door one Saturday morning. I had been sitting on the couch reading the paper with a cup of coffee. "May I come in?" "Sure, Kirk. I haven't seen you for a while." "I have to say something to you." "Okay. You can sit here with me if you want." The boy did not sit but started slowly, explaining in a serious and heartfelt manner his thoughts and feelings. He apologized for not coming around and told me he was afraid that he would be thought of as one of the boys who came to my apartment for sex. In his old country many boys did things for money and he had promised his mother and made a vow to himself not to do that as it would be sinful. But he knew that he liked to visit and talk. "I told you, you could come over without having to do what the other boys do, Kirk." "I know, but ...," the boy paused and thought with his lips pressed tight, "... but, I ... I thought about what the other boys were doing and I wanted to be with you, too." This was a confession from a pure heart. I was humbled. I stood. "Come here." I gave the boy my hand. "I'm honored you want to be with me. You know I like you very much." Kirk said nothing. I pulled him close. He tucked himself under my arm. I kissed the top of his head. He looked up and I caressed his smooth cheek with the back of my finger. He melted with my touch. A passion rushed through me and between us. I began to strip the boy, more and more rapidly. I tore at my own clothes, baring my chest, unbuckling my pants. I lifted Kirk, yanking first one shoe, then another from his feet. I struggled with his pants, pulling them off his socked feet, left then right. My left hand went under the elastic of the boy's underpants, grasping his naked ass. "Ohhh!" the boy moaned in complete abandon. I swept his underwear down with a slow swipe of my arm, stretching the elastic to the limit. I had to reach about to free it from the boy's completely vertical, arched, rod of rigid flesh. I wriggled my own pants to my ankles awkwardly, pressing my lips to the boy's, rubbing cheek to cheek, and stubble to down, while I did so. I embraced Kirk, lifting his ass with a firm hand. The boy raised his legs and wrapped them around my waist. When his cock touched mine and pushed upon my thick manhood, he gasped out a wordless, aching sob of lust. "Ohhh!" We grappled clumsily; me positioning the boy for an intimate hug and unhurried pleasure, the boy wanting to thrust his cock, compelled by the basic nature of the teenage male yet, in the novelty of being with a man, pausing, wanting to defer to his senior partner. I recognized what was Nature's prerogative and confined myself to putting Kirk in the position to gratify his uncompromising desire. I took my satisfaction in feeling the building tension in the lean muscles of the boy, the thin lats over bony ribs, the torsion imparted by the cords of the lower spine, the tightening of the boy's thighs as he sought to push his rampant erection impossibly closer to mine. He wouldn't last long. Some say every boy is the same, led by that ever present God of Male Youth, the Cock; this is true as far as it goes but for those who have savored boys as an experienced connoisseur, they find an individual, a unique quality to every boy. Kirk's unique quality was his orgasmic culmination, specifically his vocalizations immediately prior to his ejaculatory zenith. In this initial encounter, it was the feel of Kirk's lithe body writhing against me that made the first impression, and this would have been enough for one of Life's recollections, but as I watched the alternating waves of conscious and unconscious gratification play upon the boy's features, there began a rising crescendo worthy of Wagner. Kirk's eyes lost focus and his mouth went agape. I recall his upper lip curving over his snaggled malocclusions as his head tilted in ecstasy. An irregular series of breathy gasps came forth, gentle at first, and then from deeper down, rising in frequency and volume until Kirk was uttering rapturous cries worthy of an ascension to Valhalla. "Ah ... Ahhh ... Ohh ... Ahhh ... Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" Eyes shut tight and head thrown back, Kirk clutched at my shoulders, his body rigid. Smooth, inner thighs clasped my hips as his pelvis tilted to and fro, his stiff spike spurting its cream over my turgid erection. The boy's thrusts had pulled my foreskin down and his glans rubbed my corona in the silky fluid. Finished, Kirk ground his cock slowly against mine, eyes still clamped shut. A minute or more passed before the boy came back to this world. He leaned forward and cuddled himself to me. "Oh, Alex," Kirk sighed into my shoulder, pronouncing my name in his native accent, "Ahh-lex." I held him. My left arm was under his ass. It was hot. I could feel the youngster's now watery discharge crawl into my pubes. My cock was engorged with lust. I needed to fuck. "Kirk," I whispered, my voice husky, "I'm going to fuck you now." I kissed him passionately. I took the few steps to the couch and, with the boy in my arms, laid him down. The boy was still in a state of post-orgasmic dreaminess. I took my cock, quickly coating it with Kirk's slick slime. Enfolding my glans, my fingers sent a pulsing ache through my body. I moved my hard erection down past the boy's balls. "Lift your legs," I said quietly. The boy did. My sticky hand ran over his hip, guiding the tender neophyte. My cock slid into place. "Just let it in." I began the most gratifying, yet most excruciating of intimacies - the slow introduction of a man's phallus into a virgin boy. This, if done with delicacy, can result in an orgasm for the boy solely from the forward, filling movement of one's manhood. My naked glans slid along the hairless cleft into the puffy pout, heat on heat. The tip began pressing the ring. Kirk's blue eyes were open; uncertainty alternated with the novelty of the sexual sensation. I wordlessly assured the boy with my gaze. As Kirk's anus spasmed irregularly with its inexorable dilation, he gasped proportionally. In me, Kirk's merest breaths elicited a quiver of delight, his deeper gasps, the reassurance of a delicate kiss, my lips just brushing his. Minutes passed. My arms burned holding myself just above the youth. Then the moment, when resistance falters - a slide forward, a breach. "Uhh!" Surprise not pain. "It's alright." At this point, to push immediately forward is to miss the sublime; the union of boy and man, not a violation of one by the other. A man could force his way in, rudely discomforting the boy, but patience and forbearance gives one the delight of a lengthy penetration and the long-term satisfaction of initiating a boy anally without pain. Kirk's anus relaxed in a series of decreasing spasms. These contractions sent waves of bliss through us both as my glans eased its way in. Each compression was, to me, a near orgasmic onset. I bit my lip. This was not lost on Kirk. With each relaxation, the boy gave an expression of sensual joy as my phallic head slithered in, Kirk's ejaculate easing my entry; his cock began to harden again with the intrusion. Then, the final slip, the loosened ring gave, and my glans was enveloped. "Oh!" Another boy had taken a man. Kirk gave a series of gasps as I inched my burning column deeper, little by little "Ihhnn ... Ihhnn ..." "Good boy." His legs spread. "Oh, Alex, it's ... it's ..." Past the thickest mid-point swelling of my cock, it took just a few more pushes to get to the base of my pole; the transition of being without to within was complete. "Oh, Gott! Ahh-lex!" My staff burned, engulfed in liquid fire. The boy's ass was hot against my tight balls. I was on the edge. I pulled back slightly. "Uhhh!" It was Kirk's voice but it could have been mine. We were both near the pinnacle. I pushed forward. "Ohh!" I tried to hold it on the edge. A small movement. Too much. "Ahh-lex ... I'm! ... I'm! ... Ugghnn!" Kirk began moaning loudly as he orgasmed. His anus clutched at my cock. "Ohhh! Ohhh!" I grimaced and groaned as I, too, exploded. "Uhh ... Nnngghh!" I held myself rigid, giving one, two, three stabbing thrusts of my cock, pouring thick, hot semen into the boy. "Oh, Fuck!" I held myself above the boy as my orgasm waned. We panted and groaned quiet groans together. My deflated cock slid from Kirk's anus, the glans sensually squeezing free. Kirk gave a near orgasmic moan. "Mmmhh!" Each boy is different in personality, in body, and in conduct. While some boys are relatively calm and undemonstrative during sex, so much so that you are inclined to ask if they enjoyed themselves believing they hadn't, there are others that are passionate and responsive during the act and perfunctory and aloof afterwards. Kirk was a shy boy but he had one characteristic that was beyond any boy I had ever been with – Kirk had the most immediate, intimate union with his anus of any. And, as mentioned earlier, he vocalized this fully. It made the walls of my apartment noticeably thinner. I had taken his virginity and had unleashed the boy's true nature – Kirk was, physically, a natural born bottom. In our subsequent visits, Kirk's anus was so receptive and responsive that he would often unconsciously begin little thrusts of his bottom just anticipating my fingering his delicate, light brown slit. When my fingers ran up his crack he would climb to meet them and when I touched his soft boyhole he would grimace in ecstasy, moan boyishly high moans, and his legs would scissor and clamp, simultaneously trying to ward off such extreme, almost painful, sensations of delight, holding my hand tightly in a hot pocket of desire. There were many times when, wiping his crack and creamy hole after a session, Kirk would have another orgasm from the firm touch of my fingers scooping up the ooze of my runny semen. I noticed this tendency our first time together but did not fully understand Kirk's delectation. His response to my ministrations was a light moaning in sync with irregular contractions of the small muscles involved in orgasm. No further ejaculate was forthcoming but I noticed the boy's nipples to be puffily erect with pleasure. That first day I expressed my gratitude for his trust in me and I tenderly gave Kirk a kiss and stroked the boy's hair. I assured him of my confidentiality in regard to other boys and tried to ease any anxiety he may have had given the power of his first time with a man. Kirk did come by several times after school during the month of June and several times more in July after my ruttings with Joey had run their course. Before I left the city, Kirk had an older teen as a friend. It was obvious what sort of relationship they had. I was happy for him. Footnote: I found out much later that one boy Kirk had spoken to about what went on in my apartment was a boy named Herman who had visited me twice. Herman and Kirk went to the same Eastern Orthodox Church. Herman was a very plump boy of thirteen; he reminded me of the Buddha. He laughed throughout his two visits, blow jobs, and his glee was mine. He had a perfectly round head with light blond, almost gray, hair cut short – so short his head felt like a bristly fuzzball. Stroking it was a delight for me and for him. His fat belly was a droopy, jiggly handful and the boy's thighs and ass were fleshy chunks that I enthusiastically handled while sucking his nearly hairless uncut cock to sweet, immature squirts. Herman's ass was so thick and blocky square that I wanted to fuck it. I had him rolling on my couch but the boy deftly avoided my attempts to do more than caress his broad hips, kicking me aside with amusement. Copyright 2019. All Rights Reserved.