Warning, this story may contain explicit descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.
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Blame It On The Window

By Chris Carr

 Copyright Oct, 2012






Part I




First time I saw a porno was through Mr. Simpson's window. He lived next door and our ball had a way of hopping the fence into his yard all the time. I was scurrying past his window, dead set on my ball when something caught my eye. Ducking down, I peered through the window and, to my surprise, Mr. Simpson was lying naked on his bed, stroking himself while a porno played on his TV.  

You know, to this day I don't know whether it was what was playing on the TV that held me, or Mr. Simpson's dick. To tell the truth, dude's dick looked pretty big and I found myself staring at it for a long time. But I couldn't believe the porno either. Crouching low, I moved to a better position, a thousand thoughts running through my head.  

Was Mr. Simpson really... like that? And yo, is that what they really be doing!!!

One of my homeys called me and I ducked down, out of sight, running low like that until I was clear of the window. I grabbed the ball, tossed it back and hopped back over the fence.  

I guess you could say I was curious because after that incident my ball found all kind of ways to hop the fence. Sometimes, it'd roll practically under that window and as I think back on it now, I wonder if it was a subconscious act on my part.  

I couldn't resist the temptation to peek into his window, regardless the conditions and, for the most part, saw nothing. Mr. Simpson worked in the day and in the evening when it'd get dark, most times he'd close his blinds.  

Rumors were rampant that his tall, studly looks were deceiving. "You ever seen a woman over there?" That's what my cousin Nicky would always say. Then he'd additionally note that all he'd ever seen going over there were dudes. "And some of them you couldn't tell what they was," He'd add.  

Most of those times the ball would hop the fence, I was playing with my cousin Nicky. He lived up the street and practically lived in our house. His mother was my daddy's baby sister and she was spoiled rotten. Whatever Aunt Shirl, wanted, she got, as long as she asked my dad.    

Nicky was sort of like that too. Sometimes he could be a little pushy. Like his assertions that dude's a little "a-c, d-c" his way of describing Mr. Simpson's questionable orientation. Until I saw that film that evening, I had my doubts. But then, you know how if someone says, "don't think about a pink elephant", that's all you can think about? That was my pink elephant.  

It troubled me that someone could get sexually excited behind what I'd seen. Did that mean he did that to some of those young cats I'd seen leaving his place? And would he do that freaky shit with me... or my cousin? If so, why weren't there laws against that shit and what makes a person like that anyway?  

Sometimes, I'd just stand in my back yard and stare at that window, my mind going a mile a minute. I wondered if I should tell my dad, but decided against it. He was a hard working man and I didn't want to trouble him with petty shit like that.

But more than anything, I kept going back. Somehow, my stupid ball kept jumping over the fence and, try as I may, I'd find myself crouched beneath that window, a question mark on my face.  

One night, me and Nicky were playing past dark and the ball hopped the fence. All while we'd been playing, I kept thinking, "what if it goes in his back yard?" I'd noticed the light on in his window and, to be honest, was rather distracted by it. I was so focused on if the ball went over the fence, I almost jumped out of my shoes when it did.  

Something inside me insisted I had to be the one to retrieve it. Had to jump the fence, had to get the ball. Almost on instinct, I was darting for the low chain link fence between our yard and Mr. Simpson's, before Nicky could even react.  

I cleared it in one swift leap, swinging my legs over the top like a trained gymnast and hopped down, jogging for the ball. I can admit it now but at the time, it wasn't even registering that I was happy it'd landed near his window. I just knew I had lightening in my feet and my whole world was reduced to nothing but the glow from his room.  

I ducked down, the soft grass quiet beneath my shoes as I neared the window, my heart in my throat. I could feel Nicky behind me, standing in the darkness waiting, but I was still intent on that eerie glow. It drew me, against all reason and in spite of all risks.  

Glancing over my shoulder one last time at Nicky, I crouched low, then slowly raised myself to peer inside. At first I couldn't tell what I was looking at because the light suddenly lowered and something powder blue passed in front of me. Then I realized it was Mr. Simpson's back and that he was advancing away from me, towards the TV.  

A video in hand, he blocked my view as he slipped it into the VCR. He stepped back a few, remote raised as he pushed it to start the film. This film featured two, young looking Black dudes and they were on a couch, one boy laid prostrate on top of the other. I watched in awe as the boys kissed like two star-crossed lovers, the boy on top writhing and squirming as he humped the boy beneath him.  

The film must've been old because both of them had funny hairstyles. But then, for all I knew, maybe that was the way all Gay men wore their hair. Mr. Simpson watched it a couple of minutes, then he hit the fast forward. Suddenly, the two boys flopped about like shock victims, kissing and wiggling until finally, one of them straddled the other and stuck his dick down the boy's throat.  

Mr. Simpson stopped there, backing away from the TV until he could lie on his bed. Staring at the two boys, he lowered his powder blue briefs, tossing them to the floor as he stroked his big tool. I stared at it, my eyes blinking in the dark, transfixed. What was homey's problem, and why'd he like looking at dudes do it?  

I heard a hushed psst behind me and whirled around to see Nicky standing at the fence a question mark on his face. We stared at each other a second as I gathered my thoughts, then it dawned on me that I'd forgotten the ball. I wanted so badly to remain, in hopes maybe I'd get a clue as to why a nigga was so fucked up, but I knew I had to go. Then I heard a sound from inside.  

I jerked my head around just in time to see Mr. Simpson sit up and stare at the window. Shit! Could he see me? Instinctively I ducked, but then I heard sounds like someone walking. That's when I ran.

Leaving my ball in his yard, I hopped the fence like a champion horse at the horse show, running pell-mell for my back door. "LaRon," Nicky called, watching me pass. "Com'on, he saw me," I spat, never looking back.  

Not until we were safe inside my room did I catch my breath. Nicky stared at me, concerned as I panted then, seeing the fear on my face, he laughed. "Nigga, I ain't never seen you move like that." He sniggered, covering his mouth to keep the sound down.  

At first I was mad at him then I started chuckling too. I figured I must've looked funny, hustling like that.

"What was it?" Nicky finally asked, once we'd got over the giggles.  

I wanted to tell him but on consideration declined. My defense was that telling Nicky what really was going on would've been tantamount to committing suicide. But in actuality I was secretly keeping it to myself, for reasons I couldn't explain.




I'd always wanted to see a porno. I used to wonder what it would be like to see a man and a woman going at it, in living color. Could you really see the dick going right in the girl's pussy like I'd heard? And what did a pussy look like up close?  

Mine was a sheltered life. A typical latchkey child of the 80's, I had little entertainment outside of my TV and basketball. All I did was sit around, flipping through channels and snacking. Which is why Mr. Simpson was so enthralling, I suppose.  

In the afternoon, when I'd come home from school, I'd gaze out the kitchen window at his bedroom, a forgotten glass held idly in my hand. I wonder what he'd say if I asked him what the hell was his problem, I'd ponder?  

Pussy pornos. Now that was the ticket. That was what every normal, red-blooded male was supposed to be looking at. It was what I'd longed to see but instead, my first glimpse at the coveted taboo was two guys. Two guys, lying on top of each other, lips locked like two suction cups.  

You know, when I think about it, the way it all went down must've been fate. It was because of a dare Mr. Simpson caught me that day.  

"Naw, naw, that ain't enough," My cousin Nicky challenged, a gleam in his eye. "You do it, you gotta get a box, or tag or something to prove you did it."

"And I'll get the magazine?" I countered. Nicky nodded solidly and we shook on it.


Not long after that, my opportunity arose. My folks needed to do some shopping and I ventured off to do my own thing, all along knowing exactly where I was going. The little shopping center they'd stopped at had a video store and I made a beeline for it.  

Once inside, I was almost paralyzed. There weren't that many people and when I considered what I was planning to do, I got rather spooked. But Nicky had the goods and I was determined to get it.  

Sneaking to the back of the store, I kept an eye on the unobservant attendant. He never saw me duck behind the curtain and with much excitement I paused, gawking at the large selection of boxes, lining the walls and on racks in between. I'd died and gone to heaven and wanted to savor it.  

A box close to me catching my attention, I picked it up. My heart was pounding in my chest so loud, I thought surely someone would hear it. I drooled over the buxom beauties, jerking my head around at every sound, then moved on.  

Passing further within the forbidden zone, I randomly picked up a box here and there, trying to decide which one to filch. There were so many to choose from, I started loosing track of time.  

As I moved further, rounding the back wall, I passed behind a shelf and stopped dead in my tracks. The entire rack covered with box after box of Gay videos, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Were there that many Gay men in my neighborhood? Then I saw a couple of familiar faces and, without thinking, I picked the box up.  

It was the two boys from Mr. Simpson's film. The caramel colored brutha that'd been on top of the darker, taller boy was standing just behind him, his arms wrapped around the youth in an open embrace. They could've easily been my Aunt and her boyfriend, posing for a picture, their embrace so casual. Then somebody said,

"I've got that one," and I almost leaped out of my skin.  

Tossing the box up, I bobbled it on my fingertips, trying to keep it from falling but missed. It hit the concrete floor with such a crash, I was certain the porno police were going to burst through the curtains any second to drag me away.  

Mr. Simpson watched me with some amusement, stepping back as I clumsily swooped to pick up the box. Where he'd come from and how he'd sneaked up on my like that, I couldn't imagine, but there he stood, a cheese-eating grin on his face. Everything in me said run but I didn't want to punk myself like that so I fought it.  

Hands trembling, I pushed the video box back in place, turning to get the hell out of there when he added, "You want, you can come over and watch it." I looked up at him, trying to imagine what lost brain cell in his head had misfired to ask me something so ridiculous but said nothing. Worst part about it, I didn't get  my porno mag because I didn't get the box for Nicky.




My world became a swirling vortex after that and at the center was Mr. Simpson's bedroom. I couldn't think, couldn't concentrate and shit got out of whack.  

Pops wouldn't let me borrow the car, no matter how I begged and pleaded. I thought I was old enough to at least take it to the neighborhood theater. How else was a brutha supposed to get his hands on some pussy?  

But no, he said it'd make his insurance go up and that was the end of that. I tried asking the girls out but they were responding more quickly to the guys with rides. It was as if I was destined never to see or touch any pussy and it was running me crazy.  

My grades started dropping and my folks made me do more homework. I was getting more and more frustrated, I got suspended for fighting and then my fish died. Man, loosing that fish really did me in. I didn't know how much it meant to me until I saw it floating on top of the water.  

For those two days I was at home, I filled the idle time with jackin' off. I'd wake up and stare at myself in the mirror, my burgeoning dick a never ending source of amazement. Looking at it I'd watch it grow and in no time it was painfully erect and flat against my belly. Yanking on it, I'd marveled at the way it'd slap back against my belly. In a matter of minutes I'd blast a cum shower on the mirror, gazing at it as it ran down in rivulets to the floor.  

Ten minutes later I'd do it in the shower. In the living room after breakfast, I'd get a nutt while the TV blared. It was an all day thing and the more I did it, the more I wanted.  

The bathroom, my parent's room, I even did it one time on top of the washing machine. That was kind of hot because my mom had put on a load of clothes before she left for work and I got my nutt during the spin cycle.  

I never knew I had so much cum. I spent half my day searching the floors and carpet for spots, a towel in my hand. And I never got dressed. I'd leave the shower naked and walk around all day with a hard-on.  

Yet, with all that, I still wasn't getting relief and, in those idle times, standing naked in front of the sink some dark part of my psyche knew why. Staring across the yard at the curious window, I'd feel the tug, despite my confusion.  

So, it's no wonder I found myself outside, idly bouncing my basketball. Even I knew it was a thinly veiled excuse but I wasn't thinking right anymore. I'd gone the jacking off route and it left me wanting. Something had to give and when you're that young and full of cum, all reasoning goes out the door.  

I tried everything to make that stupid ball hop the fence but no luck. I wasn't even looking at the basket anymore, my eyes practically staring at the window as I bounced the ball. Finally, I bounced it purposely towards the fence and watched it bounce over.  

My heart pounding in my chest, I looked around, then followed it into the next yard. I kept looking around, even though nobody was home at that hour. I guess I was real nervous and I felt sort of stupid as I traipsed over to the window, crouching low.  

What I was hoping to see in the middle of the day, I had no idea but finally I reached it. Pulling myself up I peered inside.  

The first thing that I picked up was sound. Strange, I thought, wondering why I was hearing music in an empty house. Then I heard the other sounds and I almost took off running.  

Ducking, I heard moans and groans, sprinkled with faint smacking sounds, just above the strange music. Panicked, my thoughts ran way ahead of me. Mr. Simpson was home, fucking, and I was outside his window, listening like a pervert!  

Maybe I should've left but I couldn't. Like Pandora's box, I had to see, despite the risk. Dizzy with panic, I slowly crept upward, my heart doing flip flops in my chest. I stared into the room but what I should've been seeing wasn't there. Instead, I was looking face to face at Mr. Simpson.  

I could've fainted, right on the spot. My mouth gaped open, my eyes became two panicked zeroes as I stood frozen. Mr. Simpson was butt naked, a satisfied grin on his face as he held me with his gaze.  

We stood like that for what seemed an eternity, my feet doing everything in their power to not run. Then the color started coming back in my face and I noticed his right arm was moving. I slowly followed it down until I saw what he was doing.  

That urge to run again surged upward, widening my eyes but I couldn't move. His dick was so hard, it'd looked like a steel beam. Methodically working his hand up and down its length, he stared at me as if nothing was happening.  

I felt it start in my toes... the very ones that still threatened run. Coursing up my legs, it encircled my thighs then met, just beneath my balls to dash madly up my dick. Without touching it, my dick just stood straight up.  

Mr. Simpson noticed it, his eyes traveling seductively over my torso, across my midsection and over the wicked bulge in my pants. I felt a little embarrassed but not enough to bring that sucker down. Instead, I just stood there, a warm feeling running all through wherever his eyes roamed.  

Time stood still for those few minutes, my heart never lessening its thunderous pace. I was like the skittish deer you see in the woods, there, but about to bounce. Then he stooped, the move seriously startling me.  

Removing the screen from his window, he reached towards me, gesturing with his hands for me to climb up. For a moment I hesitated, thoughts of what I should be doing surfacing. I knew what would happen if I climbed up and that scared me. To me, all of that shit was freakishly perverted and, like drugs, once you tried it there was no turning back.  

Looking back over all the years since, I can say I was partly right but I know different now also. I know that one act can't change your orientation and that there's thousands of boys that did shit with guys in their teens then never did it again. But as a teen, I thought that single act could turn me totally out.   

Standing there in the warm glow of the morning sun, I saw my whole life pass before me when I finally reached up and took his hands. He pulled while I scampered up. Dangling halfway in and half out, I looked up, huffing, his dick right at my face, then I tumbled inside, plopping onto the floor.  

Behind me I heard the TV playing and when I glanced over, realized where the moaning and groaning sounds had come. Happily slurping around the head of a fat dick, a guy who looked almost as young as me was causing an older guy to make the sounds. That strange music playing in the background, the duo was lost in the throes of wild sex.  

I looked up at Mr. Simpson, that bulge bigger than ever in my pants and he gave me that smug grin again as he extended his hand to help me up. He pulled me over to his bed and, in a daze, I nervously perched on the edge. Though I tried not to, my eyes wandered over at his hard dick, then darted away. When I saw it that close up I panicked and, instinctively, I stood. Mr. Simpson took my hand and gently pulled me back until I slowly lowered to sit right on the edge of the bed again.  

I stared straight ahead at some point past the opposite wall as he slowly, patiently guided that same hand towards his post. His other hand offering soothing caresses to my back, I continued staring at the wall, flinching when I felt the warm flesh brush against my open palm.  

My hand jerked away and I stood again, this time not quite as fast. A loud series of groans poured from the TV and I looked at it before I thought. The older man was shaking and writhing, his dick blowing large plumes of heavy cum, high into the air.  

Frozen, I felt my dick swell in my pants, dangerously close. The guy kept busting cum high into the air, writhing and moaning like it was the nutt to end all nutts. I'd never seen another guy bust a nutt and I couldn't take my eyes off it.  

When Mr. Simpson ran his hand down my torso, over my stomach, I just about creamed my pants. Whipping my head around, it was like I'd forgotten he was there. My eyes following his hand, I trembled when it passed over the lump in my pants.

"I.. I gotta go..."


The screen went black and I stared at it, transfixed. The image changed and two of the cutest guys you've ever seen were suddenly giving each other head. My head tilting to the side, I stared at them, my feet glued to the floor.  

How the hell were they...? I'd never seen anything like that. My eyes traveling the length of both boys' bodies, I couldn't believe it was possible to get head while you were giving it. Pornos were even better than what they'd told me!  

"Sit down," Mr. Simpson said, guiding me towards the bed. But just before he did, he undid my pants. Man, he popped them open so fast, my dick jumped free and slapped my belly. When I sat on the bed, my pants and briefs were around my ankles and my dick stood straight up against my stomach.  

The two boys on the TV were still slurping the hell outta each other's dicks and I became envious. How come I didn't have a buddy like that?  

Then I felt a hand on my dick and I literally shook. It wasn't just a hand, it was a slippery hand, with some kind of slippery substance. I looked at my dick and saw Mr. Simpson's hand stroking up the shaft, the palm all wet with some kind of shiny, slippery stuff. It was the best feeling in the world and I started pushing my hips up and squeezing my dick muscles.  

Mr. Simpson was stroking his dick too and my eyes kept going back and forth between his dick and mine. In a matter of seconds I felt that familiar feeling. Starting in my toes, it made them wiggle and curl, then my legs started shaking and my balls got real tight.  

The head of my dick got extra shiny and I felt something spinning up from the bottom of my dick, encircling it with the most incredible sensations I'd ever felt. My legs started fanning open and I heard myself moaning like a little girl, then I felt my shit skeeting up my dick and everything went kaleidoscopic!  

Colors burst behind my eyeballs and the room started spinning. My hips came up off the bed and I felt myself falling back on the bed. Cum squirted over my head, sailing higher than the dude's in the porno, colliding with the headboard in soft plits. All of this was like a side commentary to the sensational feeling of Mr. Simpson's hand on my dick. This was my destiny fulfilled. My life finally had meaning. It scared the shit outta me!  

No sooner the last dribble had dripped on my stomach, I sat bolt upright, my eyes zeroes again. Snatching a look at Mr. Simpson, I pulled my pants up, not even considering the mess.  

Mr. Simpson watched as I darted for the window, my belt unbuckled. I practically fell through the window and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him standing in the window, his dick hard as ever.  





My entire world became that window. It was like every window in my house had a view on it. When I ate dinner, I saw it. If I sat on the far couch in the living room, I saw it. The bathroom window, the back porch, one time I was begging dad for the car again, a fool's errand, and I swear I saw him looking at me through the window over my parent's bed!  

It was just my head playing tricks on me but I couldn't get that window out of my head. At night I'd see those boys sucking each other, my dick throbbing against my belly as the images played in my head. How many other videos did he have and what other unimaginable things could guys do?  

Nicky and I were playing ball one evening and when the ball hopped the fence, I stared at it, frozen.

"You gonna get it?" Nicky said, staring at me.

"You get it," was all I could say.  

Days passed and I fought the urges. What we'd done was wrong, I was convinced, and shouldn't be repeated. You don't have guys feeling on your dick and you fo' damn sho' don't have them jerkin' you off.  

But I kept thinking about those guys and the way my dick felt when it shot. All of the nutts I'd had since then were nothing in comparison. No matter how I tried, I couldn't get as hard or shoot as far.  

I didn't realize it, but I started bargaining with myself. Could one more time really hurt? If no one knew, what was the harm? Then I'd get worried I was turning gay and I didn't have answers as to why or what to do. All I knew was I didn't want to be gay. Didn't want my friends thinking I was a faggot and somehow, I believed it would show, no matter how I tried to hide it.  

A whole week passed and by that Saturday, I was a mess. My nights were filled with dreams about porno stores and boys sucking dicks, sometime in the porno store. My every waking moment seemed filled with desire and emptiness. My few friends at school couldn't fill the void and all attempts to recreate that one session with Mr. Simpson at home failed. It was no wonder I found myself idly bouncing my ball that Saturday, my eyes glued on that window.  

He was home, I knew it. Loudly I bounced the ball, running like an idiot along the fence but nothing. Why didn't he call me over?  

Backing into the shadows beneath the patio, I glanced down at the growth that'd started in my shorts. Desperate, I stroked myself, staring at the window. When my dick started pushing my shorts out, I lost all inhibitions and ran towards the fence.  

As I neared the window, my heart pounded in my chest like a scared rabbit. Standing beneath the window, I slowly raised up. Accepting I'd lost the battle, I didn't even care anymore. Where was he?

"Come on in," A voice said and I almost leaped out of my skin.  

That's when I saw him sitting in the corner, his hand sliding slowly up his brick hard shaft...



Would you like more? Email me at: andy_dick35@hotmail.com