ate: Tue, 7 Dec 2004 09:32:11 EST
From: PixaJax@aol.com
Subject: Growing up Part 5

I paused at the door to the bakery and inhaled deeply.
I can never smell the aroma of freshly-baked bread without feeling a
tingling in my balls. It is a smell forever associated in my mind with
visits to the village bakery and fooling around with John the baker. He
liked to set me on his lap and tickle me. Or, more accurately, pretend to
tickle me, because his hands were forever straying where they shouldn't.
Feeling his cock against my leg twitching and hardening into erection
secretly delighted me but, as I think I told you before, he never made an
open move on me, and I far too unsure of myself to do what I desperately
wanted to do, which was to reach down and curl my fingers round it
through the flimsy cotton material of his trousers. Instead I would
wriggle and squirm, deliberately rubbing my leg against it and imagining
that I would make him spunk up that way.
But my encounters with Postie changed all that. I felt very grown up, I
knew about men's cocks, I knew how to make a man spunk up. I knew, too,
what it felt like to have a man's cock inside me, to be penetrated and
fucked. And I felt specially grown up now that I could spunk up just like
a man!
I already had a hard-on - what Postie called my "stiffy" - just
anticipating being with John. He gave me a beaming smile when he saw me.
Poor John, I guess I was the subject of all his most secret fantasies. I
imagined him closing his eyes and jacking off while his mind's eye drank
in images of a naked young boy - me - cavorting for his pleasure.
"H-hello, Jack. I g-got some nice c-crusty bread just out of the oven.
Would you l-l-like a piece?"
His stutter made him seem even more timid and vulnerable. It was quite
amazing really. Here was I, a mere twelve-year-old (well, nearly) boy set
on seduction, and here was John, a grown man in his thirties (or more),
unable to ask for what he so badly wanted.
"Great, John. John, I have a problem. Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. Anything. Come and sit here next to me."
He was sitting on his bench, legs apart. Instead of sitting next to him,
I stood between his knees facing him. He was startled.
"What is it, dear boy?"
"You'll be angry with me...," I said in my littlest little boy voice.
"Don't be s-silly.. Come on, tell me. What's wrong?"
"This." I pointed down at my crotch and allowed the tip of my forefinger
to press against my cock, which was pointing skyward.
"Wh-what?"
He looked down to where my finger was pointing. And he blushed!  HE was
embarrassed, while I stood calm as you like, loving the effect I was
having on him.
"John, I'm sorry. I can't stop it doing that. It just gets hard all on
its own. I have no idea why."
He gulped and stammered out some response or other, on the lines of "it
happens, it's all right, oh my, ....." The poor man was totally confused,
a confusion compounded of  embarrassment and rising lust.
"Something else, John."
He looked at me solemnly, eyes wide.
"I did a bad thing, John. I jacked off and made lots of sticky." I was so
convincing in my role that I swear I was able to force a few tears from
my eyes.
"M-make sticky? Wh-what....?"
"You know: sticky stuff coming out."
"Oh." He thought about it for a moment. "But it's ok, Jack, all boys do
that. Just don't let your mother know you do it. Mothers don't understand
about b-boys and if they find out, they just call you a d-d-dirty boy and
tell you it will make you b-blind and stuff like that."
"I won't, John. And, John..." - I moved closer to him - "thank you for
not getting mad or anything. I wish you were my dad." At the moment, I
meant it, and my eyes really did fill with tears.
"There there, Jack...."
He took me in his arms and cuddled me. I held him tightly. My hard-on was
pressed against him. Surely he could feel it, couldn't he? Eventually he
released me.
"John,.."
"Yes?"
"It aches so much when it's hard like this. I need to, you know, jack
off... Sorry."
"That's ok. I know..."
"Does yours ache too when it gets hard and you don't do anything about
it?"
He nodded. I glanced down and saw the telltale movement of his prick
stirring into life.
"Is there somewhere we can go?" I asked.
He got up, took my hand and led me into the next room and over to a
ladder attached to the wall, which gave access to a loft.
"Up you go."
I felt his hands on my bottom as he pushed me up the ladder.
I liked the loft. It smelled of flour and there were piles of sacks
everywhere.
"Will you watch me while I do it, John? Please."
He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. I sat down and removed my shorts and
my underpants. I have always loved stripping naked for a man, letting him
ogle my stiffy, making him want me. I wrapped my fingers round my penis
and started to work the magic, sighing deeply as the old familiar
tingling surged through me.
"What about you, John? I'd love it if we did it together...."
That was the moment of truth as the bullfighters say. No turning back. No
more pretence. John fumbled to get his cock out of his pants and then
came to sit opposite me our knees touching. That first sight of his cock,
still not fully erect, is something I will never forget. For those with
little experience of men's cocks, let me say that they come in all shapes
and sizes - it's part of the reason why the hunt for cock never palls.
Each new cock in your hand or your mouth or your ass is a fresh
experience, never quite like the ones that went before. And John's cock
was special too: cut and about 7 inches erect. But what made it special
was that it was very thin, quite unlike Postie's fat sausage. And CURVED!
It arched up from his body in a sweeping arc so that his cockhead
appeared to be pointing back at his body. I was fascinated. Being as thin
as it was, I knew I could take it easily into me, no sweat (I swallowed
hard at the thought of John fucking me), but what would be the effect of
that amazing curve? Wow.
We didn't talk, we concentrated on wanking, each one stimulated by the
sight of the other getting more and more frenzied as the thrills and the
tension mounted.
"Would you like to touch mine, John?"
He nodded.
"And you can hold mine at the same time, dear boy." Good! John was
finally opening up to his real desires. I noticed that his stutter had
disappeared completely.
"Oh wow! Let's make sticky together!" I exclaimed, really excited to be
playing sexy games with John at last.
The wanking became more and more frenzied, and it took John no more than
a few hard strokes to make me spunk up. God, how I LOVED that moment,
that feeling, the electricity surging through my whole body! And then I
felt John's cock juddering and swelling even harder as he too crossed the
rubicon and proceeded to shoot his manseed in huge spurts. I don't know
how it happened  - I think he grabbed me - but we both tumbled to the
floor while we were still both pumping cum, and I ended up on top of him,
our cocks together our hands trapped between our bodies. It was like our
two cocks had become one. We no longer knew whose wetness we could feel
on our fingers, I just know there was an awful lot of wetness, gorgeous
warm sperm-fluid seeping across our bellies. We lay like that for a long
time, not speaking, just savouring the wonderful afterglow of our mutual
masturbation sex game. Finally, as we detumesced and the warm wetness
started to feel cold, I broke the silence.
"I love you, John."
"Oh, that's wonderful. I love you too!" And he hugged me tight.
"John."
"Yes?"
"It's ok if you want to bumfuck me."
"Wh-what?" He couldn't believe his ears - or his luck.
"It's ok, I would like it. Really."
He paused for a long time.
"Not now, but maybe tomorrow, Jack?"
"Sure!"
And tomorrow couldn't come soon enough for me. John and that amazing
curved cock of his: something to look forward to."

[To be continued. Comments to pixajax@aol.com or to
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Spuncup/]