From: FCPHAW@news.delphi.com (FCPHAW@DELPHI.COM) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: FCP: FINAL CORNEY DOGS (m/m, minors) Date: 25 Nov 1995 21:13:15 -0500 Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation Lines: 223 Message-ID: <498ifr$ha9@news2.delphi.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: news2.delphi.com ************************** W A R N I N G ! ! ! ! ! ! ************************** THIS FILE CONTAINS ADULT-ORIENTED MATERIAL. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT SEXUAL FICTION, EXIT THIS FILE NOW. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN (IN THE UNITED STATES) OR ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE IN YOUR COUNTRY TO READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIALS, EXIT THIS FILE NOW AND DO NOT CONTINUE READING. This file contains adult sexual fiction. Within can be found sexual activities and/or sexual situations involving adult males and/or females along with children, boys and/or girls, and sexual activities between children, boys and/or girls, and other children. Some files may contain sex and/or sexual situations between humans adults and/or children and animals. If you or your community standards are offended by such material, exit now. If you do not wish to view files of this type, it is up to you to exit now. All characters in these files, unless otherwise noted in individual story lines, are fictional. They do not exist. Any resemblances between these actors and real people are purely coincidental. FAN CHA PHAW is a small, Boston-based, publisher specializing in sexual freedom and amateur fiction zines. Stories are posted, from time to time, to the Internet as a service to readers who enjoy them. Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the activities of the actors in any of these stories. The stories are totally fiction. Fan Cha Phaw does not advocate breaking any laws known to mankind. Fan Cha Phaw does not e-mail stories to individual readers, so please do not ask. Stories are posted again about three to four weeks after they initially appear in the group for those who missed them. Fan Cha Phaw does not respond to questions or comments posted on alt.sex.stories. We do respond to questions or comments posted to the discussion group, alt.sex.stories.d. Lastly, we do not respond to flames. We have more important things to do with our time. Ishmael Wilkins FAN CHA PHAW FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS: Corny Dogs. by Mark Frisbee Some folks are hooked on burgers, others liked tacos, but for me nothing is like a succulent juicy corny dog. You have the batter, and mustard, and then a hot wiener. Long wieners, short wieners, fat wieners, skinny wieners, wieners with cheese, and you always eat them end first. You stick them into your mouth, select the desired amount, apply a little pressure, and pop off the excess. I just have a thing for corny dogs. Anyway, I liked to stop at the mall for a corny a dog and sit on a bench in the isle and eat it, watching the kids playing video games in an arcade across from the bench. It was a Saturday and the arcade was filled with high-school and junior-high sized kids as they blew their money on the high-tech baby sitters. Still, it wasn't completely wasted as I found it to be very entertaining as one ate a corny dog. I was watching the guys twist their knobs, push their sticks, punch the buttons, turn their dials and all the other motions it must take to keep the purple peter eaters of the planet Zork from gobbling your goober. I call it the video ballet. It was certainly worth the admission price. The boys were absorbed in clearing the frontier of invaders from Borg forgetting the social graces about scratching and rearranging one's cock. They jiggled their little asses first tightening up one side then the other, now pulling their underwear out of their crack. The really fun part was watching them rearrange their dicks. At their age almost anything gave them a hard on and video games must have been very high on the list. It was the dance of the hard-ons. I was noticing several prominent bulges but I kept coming back to this one boy. I was wise to the rise in his Levis. He was just some kid thrown out at the mall with a pocket full of quarters so his someone would not be bothered for a few hours. I had news for them, he was sure bothering me. I was sitting on the bench with a weinie dog in one hand and a summer sausage in my pants. The boy had moved to a machine directly across from me and was standing at a three quarter shot of his front. He was wearing fashion jeans that fit snug and were showing a nice firm ridge running from between his legs toward his left pocket. I guess dicks at this age must be part fly paper, because they stick to everything. He was repositioning his very prominent bulge to the right, then straight up, back to the left, I swear this could be set to music. I sure knew a little number I would like to do with it. Balls were creating somewhat of a problem too. Cut a bit short in the stride there buckeroo. I looked up and down the walk way to see if anyone was noticing that I was sucking my corny dog. Oscar Meyer all beef jumbos, do it every time. slurp. smack. I tried to get my lap rearranged with out making it obvious I had taken all the slack out of my pleated pants. The boy was walking off and I was about to turn my attention else where when he paused at the rest room and praise Allah, he glanced back at me. I was sitting with my legs crossed and my hand in my lap. My eyes were riveted to him. The electricity crackled. I was no "Amazing Kreskin," but I could read his mind and I knew he had flipped a page or two of mine. He pushed open the door and I couldn't untangle my feet fast enough to bird dog after him. As we entered the rest room the mirrors in front let me see under the stalls to check for feet. I was satisfied no one was there or at least they had no legs. He walked over to the urinal which was the long trough type. When I came up behind him I surveyed his slender build. He was small with two tight firm buns stuffed in outgrown pants. His nose would have fit nicely into the crease between my pectorals. I wanted to open his mouth and check his teeth. You can't be too careful judging prime horse flesh. This fresh and frisky colt had not long been on the range. I sure had an ache up high, between my big toes, that wanted to slip a saddle on this little mustang. When I pulled up beside him I could tell he was gonna be hung like a horse someday. Whoa big fellow, you definitely are a friend of Flika. He had unbuttoned his pants and hauled it out over the top of the underwear he wasn't wearing. It was stiff and although he had his hand around it there was at least three or four inches sticking out above that. It was not real big in diameter but I knew his growing days were just starting. He pulled his pants into a vee and let his hands move to his side. His magnificent boyhood stood hard at attention like a cadet being reviewed by the head dick. He tensed it and rotated his pelvis and it bobbled like a band leaders baton conducting a polka. His wonder wand had a gentle curve upward that was topped with a perfect head. It was flared like a hooded cobra, a pink knob of a cyclops with its mischievous one eye. I had seen nothing like this since Jason and the Argonauts. I glanced at his face and smiled and was greeted with a big grin in return. I looked at his fantastic piece of boneless tube steak then back in honest admiration. He gave me a John Wayne, "no brag, just fact" grin. What the hell, a little show and tell shouldn't hurt. I unzipped my pants and pulled them apart, noticeably using two hands to haul out the quarter pounder (no cheese). I must confess as appendages go, mine is extraordinary. I would have been a foot taller if I hadn't had so much pulled out of my middle to make a dick. I can use a two handed over the shoulder boner holder and the head still sticks out. I stroked mine a couple of times but my eyes never left the pink niblet beside me. I took a half step and turned to face him. He was waiting for me to make the first move so I reached my left hand out and around his prize. It was about the size of a quarter but long and definitely running a temperature. I moved up and down the shaft a few times letting the skin slide over the head. He had been cut but the doctor had generously left enough skin to pull forward making the red head wink an enticing peek-a-boo. The youngster was fascinated with my industrial grade frankfurter looking up at him. He reached for it with both hands. I put my stroking on automatic and looked him over more closely. He had a new crop of pubic fuzz that was just coming in, not yet thick and fine as frogs hair. It was almost black, considerable darker than the tassel of hair he wore neatly brushed. His smoothness would soon take on the cut of muscle but for now was firm without the thickness his juices would soon start. I stood a good two foot taller than him, and when he looked up I could see a shyness the bravado had tried to hide. I knew the trolling was for the attention, and that he knew he had a gorgeous dick. It was only bait to get someone to give him the touching and caring, the caressing and holding he was really after. Still it was the damndest "night crawler" this old fish had seen in a long time. It sure brought out a urge to spawn. I knew what he wanted and I wanted it too. A few special hours that included caressing and hugging. A time for the heat before the ecstasy, and time to lay close, his smallness surrounded by my largeness. Those precious moments that are pure, when the mind is clear, the juices are spent, and we choose our words because they say how we really feel. A very tender time when our egos are fragile, not a time to be holding dicks in a john. "What do you want me to call you?" I asked him. My voice was dry and a little raspy, I'm Dan I continued. I'm Josh, he answered in a voice that cracked slightly, vocal cords undecided which octave to get in. We had both glanced down to supervise the putting away of the family jewels. Tell you what Josh, why don't we drive through the golden arches and go to the park. I'd like to eat lunch with you if you have time. "Yeah, that's fine, I don't have to be anywhere anyway," he replied in a low voice and with a downcast expression. We turned and walked out, hell, there wasn't anything I wanted washed off my hand anyway. Leaving the mall I put my arm on his shoulder and It felt just right. We pushed both doors open, cock of the walk, and headed for my van. I unlocked my door and hit the button to unlock his side. We climbed into the captain chairs and I reached over and put my hand on his leg. "I think meeting you is going to make me very happy," I said. Josh grinned and relaxed his leg in nonverbal agreement. I popped a casette of Creedence Clearwater Revival in the dash. Nobody but Fogerty could do Rollin' on a River. We were backing out but not backing away. God, how I love a corny dog. The End THIS IS A FINAL POSTING OF THIS STORY