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By Chris Carr
Copyright © Oct 13, 2007
I looked at him, my mouth gapped open. He must be crazy, my mind screamed, but I said nothing as he stood up.
"Just lay back, it'll be good," He
said, in that soothing, matter-of-fact tone of his.
Everything in me said this was wrong but
I did nothing when he started to remove my clothes. Just sat there, until I was
bare butt naked again. Then I felt him sucking on my nipples again and the rest
was all a blur.
In no time he was between my legs,
licking from the bottom of my balls to the head of my leaking dick. Quivering
like a bowl of jello, I gasped and writhed as he slowly licked lower and lower
until I felt those magical sensations again.
Glancing at the TV I saw the guys had
switched and now the tall guy was "fingering" the one on the bed while the
other guy straddled his face. Groans and smacks poured out the speakers and as I
watched, I felt Mr. Simpson rubbing my asshole with his finger.
I knew what was about to happen but my
dick was so hard and everything felt so good, I lay there passive, waiting.
His
finger slicked with spit, Mr. Simpson prodded it about my tight hole, then he
pushed in. My toes wiggled and my dick stood straight up. Slowly his long digit
advanced, my hole spreading to accept it. It was a bit uncomfortable at first
but then he slipped my aching dick back in his mouth and I forgot about the
finger.
Certain I'd blow, I jerked my head up
to watch. Mr. Simpson looked at me, his mouth swirling up and down my dick and
then his finger sunk deep inside me. I felt it sliding around inside my hole,
searching, it seemed.
My mouth forming an "O", I gasped
and shrieked when his finger found my prostate. I didn't have a clue what it
was then, just that there was a spot, somewhere deep inside me that his finger
had magically found.
Bucking and moaning loudly, I
accidentally squeezed my ass muscles and then everything went black. I heard
myself bellowing, felt my asshole quivering, his finger stimulating that knot
inside me, then I felt my dick leap in his mouth.
Whooping like crazy, I bucked and
writhed, my dick firing round after round of tiny explosions. Kaleidoscopes
swirled behind my eyelids again and my head spun like a top. Once again, Mr.
Simpson was right and that day, I made another advance into the heady world of
male on male sex.
I didn't even complain when Mr.
Simpson stood, his dick hard as a brick, and aimed it right at my mouth. Like a
cock sucking whore, I took it in my mouth, letting him slide it back and forth
on my tongue.
It only took a few thrusts before he was
scalding the back of my throat with his spurting load. Like before I held it in
my mouth, my eyes on his face as it contorted. When he pulled out, I went to the
bathroom and spit his cum out again.
He joined me at the sink, his arms
embracing me as we stared in the mirror. I didn't know it then but I was on
the way to becoming a full fledged homosexual. I just knew it felt good to have
him hold me and that it didn't matter how much my conscience kept insisting
this was somehow wrong.
I snuck over to his place frequently,
after that. He was always glad to see me and I never knew where our sessions
would lead, which excited me to no end. I was Mr. Simpson's new toy and he
hadn't steered me wrong yet, so every visit was an adventure.
Mostly we'd fool around in his room
but sometimes we'd do it in his living room, in front of that fantastic TV. I
never got over how clear the picture was and how fascinating it was to hear sex
in stereo.
Every time I wanted to get a good nutt,
I'd hop the fence and duck below the hedges until I was safe inside his
kitchen. Calling out for him, he was always happy to see me. And then the fun
would start, sometimes, right in the kitchen.
A lot of times I didn't even wear
underwear, my need so great, I didn't want the hindrance. My dick would always
be hard by the time I got inside. He'd stare at it and smile and I'd blush
like a school girl. Then he'd do something that felt good, like rubbing on it
through my clothes or just reaching inside and stroking it.
I'd tremble, like the hot teen I was
and then my clothes would be off before I could think. His tongue would work
wonders on all of my hot spots, starting with my nipples and not stopping until
I was flat my back, my legs in the air.
The bed, the shower, the couch in the
living room, even one time on the kitchen table. I loved having him lick on my
asshole and when he'd stick a finger up there, I knew it wouldn't be long
before I'd blast off.
I became insatiable, the few friends I had forgotten. It was me, my dick and Mr. Simpson. I don't know, maybe I was falling for him, but it was all a mixed up bundle of emotions and desire in my head and I couldn't sort it out. I just know it all felt good, the licking, the fingering and especially the hugs and kisses. Mr. Simpson could hold me like nobody and my teen desire ate it up like a hungry puppy.
Our experimentation continued until, what I'd feared the most came naturally. It was a late Sunday afternoon and we were in his bedroom. He'd positioned me on my knees and was behind me, his face planted between my butt cheeks.
My head turned towards the window, I
moaned softly, my dick jerking upwards, every time his tongue slapped across my
hole just the right way. I was lost in ecstasy and didn't even notice the pair
of eyes, creeping over the window ceil.
Mr. Simpson stuck his tongue up my
asshole and my eyes flung open, just in time to see Nicky dart out of sight.
Panicked, I jerked up, my eyes bulged. This had to be a nightmare, I thought, running from the room. Mr. Simpson stared at me, confused as I stood in the hallway, peering around the door.
"What...?"
I motioned at the window, my heart beating so hard, I thought I'd pass out. He raised up, peering out the window but saw nothing.
"Nicky!" I scream whispered.
"Shit!" Mr. Simpson said, running to the window.
But no one was there...