Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 07:33:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: Guitar Lessons

   My name is Nicky, and, I suppose you could consider me a pretty much
typical teen boy. I passed my fourteenth birthday almost four months ago,
I'm a natural blond, taking after my Mothers side, blue eyed, and
considered "cute" by family, and friends. I am also, pretty much, a
walking, talking, hardon. If you were to consult Webster, seeking the
definition of the term "perpetually horny," you would likely find my
photograph. To take that definition of my near constant condition a step
further, I was also fraught with very definite gay leanings, an interest
that I had developed as early as age ten, while still sharing a bedroom
with my older brother Jason, who was almost thirteen at the time.

   It was around that tender age of ten that my little pocket rocket began
behaving strangely, going suddenly, and frequently, rock hard, without the
slightest provocation. It fascinated me no end, this anatomical anomaly,
and I soon took to physically exploring the phenomenon, by either stuffing
my little hand inside whatever clothing that currently draped my lower
body, or, better still, when alone, fully exposing my little stiffy, and
madly touching it all over. During one such event, I continued the rubbing
of my stiff little nail a bit longer than usual, and I suddenly experienced
such a rush of weird feelings throughout my body, that it frankly scared
the hell out of me. Convinced that further exploration of the kind was
likely to render me ill, or worse, I decided to share my concern with big
brother, who I idolized, and considered to be worldly, beyond belief.

   As we lay in our separate beds later that night, after the house had
grown still, and dark, I was again experiencing the near-painful stiffness
of Little Nicky. Even though the earlier scary experience was still very
fresh in my mind, I was unable to resist the need to slip my hand inside my
PJ"s and fondle my rock hard little boy dick. As I griped it, instinctively
moving my fist back and forth over its silky hardness, the tingly feelings
flowed through my body at such a rate of intensity, that I had to literally
bite my tongue to keep from loudly moaning my pleasure. The tingles
intensified even further, and I started getting scared again, so I stopped,
and summoned up the courage to ask Jason about what was happening to
me. That single action rapidly led to the two of us on our knees between
our two beds, PJ's at our knees, as we feverishly explored each others very
erect boy cocks, and balls. I was completely impressed with my big brothers
equipment, and the stark differences from my own. He had hair, for Gods
sake, and it was like, way bigger, and his balls were all loose, hanging,
and felt way bigger and heavier, than my own small nuggets. And, if all of
that wasn't enough, if I rubbed his for a long time, it like, exploded,
spitting out all this wet stuff all over the place. Hot damn! I liked this,
I liked it a lot!

   So began phase one of my burgeoning interest in the male parts of other
boys, an interest that was very soon to expand to include full grown, adult
men of all ages. I began aggressively seeking all opportunities to check
out the bulging crotches of men, on the street, at shopping centers, my
teachers, and the men in my neighborhood, were all fair game in my zeal to
catch any glimpse of the massive instrument that I knew was nestled between
their legs.  I was overloaded with desire to see, and handle, a full grown
cock and balls, and became quite brazen in my efforts, to the point that
one man I was openly perving in the restroom of a movie theater, actually
told me that I better cool it, or some "pervert" would likely avail himself
of my obvious interest. Oh man, I thought, from his lips, to God's ears!

   Eager as I was to experience an encounter with an adult male, it soon
became apparent that the streets and parks of my small town environment
were not littered with adult males who were willing to risk a sexual
adventure with a very much underage boy. As a result, I was forced to limit
my sex play to a couple of friends my age, and my older brother. My desire
to ultimately find that willing adult, however, continued to percolate just
beneath the surface, and finally, I heard the faint sound of opportunity
knocking.

   As a present for my fourteenth birthday, I had received a series of
lessons to learn acoustical guitar, and the opportunity that I heard
knocking came in the form of the instructor, a man named Paul. He was
somewhere in his mid, to late twenties, and the first instant that I saw
him, or more to the point, saw the very prominent bulge that filled the
front of his snug Levi's, I just somehow knew that he, was it. Wanting very
much to please Paul, I threw myself feverently into the task of learning
his lessons, eagerly availing myself of his skills, and talent. We quickly
became friends, and the atmosphere was always open, and relaxed, between
us, as my lessons progressed. I seized every opportunity to check out his
considerable bulge, and dressed as provocatively as I dared for our
sessions, making sure that my own humble equipment was daringly displayed,
should Paul wish to avail himself of it. There were brief moments where I
was sure that he was, in fact, checking me out ,at a level equal to my own
perving, but he was so covert about it, I couldn't be positive that it
wasn't just wishful thinking on my part.

   Guitar being what it is, there were very few opportunities for actual
body contact, other than the few daring moments where I would
"accidentally" brush against Paul, or "accidentally" back into him, making
sure that my pert little butt deftly bumped against that enticing lump at
his crotch. Without any direct effort on my part, I pretty much maintained
my perpetual hardon status during my lessons with Paul, a fact that could
hardly have been lost on him, considering the exceedingly tight jeans I
made sure to wear each time.

    As the old saying goes, all things good come to those who
wait. Finally, the ice breaking moment between us occurred, and,
surprisingly enough, it was Paul who initiated it. We had progressed far
enough along in my learning, that Paul had announced that the current
lesson would consist of my learning, then practicing, the new chords A, and
D. These are a bit tricky, requiring some rather deft finger positions on
the strings, so to better demonstrate the maneuvers required, he sat down
on the sofa, and had me sit on the outer edge of the cushion, so that I was
positioned in front of him, and between his open legs. I assumed my
position, and Paul ran his arms around my middle, placing his hands, and
fingers, over mine on the guitar bridge.

   He walked me through several repetitions of the required finger
placement, his large hands and fingers guiding my own, until I felt that I
had it down. He removed his hands from mine, and placed them at my waist,
as I began running the chords on my own. As I concentrated on the finger
movements, I became very aware that Paul's hands had moved, so that his
palms were now flat against my stomach, just at the waist line of my
jeans. My cock, already fully erect, lurched so strongly in my pants that I
was surprised we didn't actually hear it go "boing!" I continued to work
the chords, my heart pounding inside my chest, as Paul slowly moved one
hand back and forth across my lower stomach, as the other one made an
agonizingly slow trip into my tented lap. Unable to stop myself entirely, I
let out a stifled moan, as his fingers found my rock hard shaft, and gently
squeezed it. Still picking the chords, I was suddenly so sexually charged
that I am still amazed that I didn't instantly unload into my briefs, the
second that his large hand closed around my throbbing boy cock. He stayed
totally silent, and gave my boner another firm squeeze, then released it,
and moved both his hands to his sides, announcing that the lesson was over,
and that I just needed to keep practicing the chords, until my next
lesson. I felt the wetness of my leaking cock inside my briefs, and was
afraid to risk speaking, so rapid, and ragged, was my breathing, so I just
stood up, and laid the guitar on the coffee table. I turned to face Paul,
my extremely tented jeans at his eye level, and I watched his eyes widen,
as he stared at my bursting hardon. I stood there, my heart hammering at my
chest wall, and silently willed him to touch me again, some more, a lot
more. He didn't, of course, but the soulful expression on his face told me,
beyond doubt, that he wanted to, probably as badly as I wanted him to. The
moment passed into history, as he tore his gaze away from my swollen
crotch, and got to his feet. The subtle movement he made to adjust his own
erection was not lost on me, and I'm sure my own eyes went wide, as I
stared hungrily at the considerable lump in his crotch. Still, neither of
us made any mention of what had just happened between us, and I was
dismissed, and left for home.

   That event only served to fuel my already raging inferno of man-lust,
and I severely abused poor Little Nicky over the following week, as I
vividly recalled the sensation of his touching me, and longed for it to
happen again, only this time, for a much longer time, and in a much more
direct manner. We repeated the very same scenario over the next three
lessons, in pretty much the exact same way, with Paul's arms encircling me
from behind, then, reaching into my lap to grope my aching boy meat a few
times, before abruptly stopping once more. I was feverish with frustration,
and beat myself up over my inability to just tell him it was cool, that I
very much wanted him to open my jeans, and touch me, and that I very much
wanted to touch his big man cock, as well.

   As though in answer to my desperate prayers, it happened that, on a
Saturday of my scheduled lesson, my Mother was somehow tied up, so that she
would be unable to transport me to Paul's small studio. When she called to
inform him that we would need to postpone the lesson, Paul graciously
offered to come to our house for the lesson. My Mother happily accepted,
and so the stage was set, I would be at home, alone, when Paul came for my
lesson, with no chance of my Mother returning until very late. I was
ecstatic, my sexual fires being flamed to inferno stage, as I anticipated
the ways I could manage to seduce this man, and move him past the barriers
that had thus far limited his fondling of my hungry boy cock. So molest me
already, I thought, I'll freeking help you! I gave the matter my full
attention throughout the day, pondering various methods of seduction that
fell short of just plain begging him to touch me, and finally arrived at
what I considered a very clever plan, indeed. I clock watched the day away,
then bid my Mother goodbye, and paced, until Paul finally arrived.

   We went through the lesson, and once again the brief fondling of my
steely hard cock, and he ended the lesson as usual. Since I was playing the
host this time, I all but insisted that he stay, and have a drink with me,
which he accepted. As we sat sipping Cokes, and chatting, his eyes kept
dropping to my bulging lap, and my excitement continued to grow in reaction
to his obvious interest. Finally, I took the plunge, bringing my seduction
plan into play, and told him that I had planned on enjoying a soak in our
hot tub, and extended him an invitation to join me. I was ready for his
excuse of no swim trunks, having anticipated it during my pre-game workup,
and promptly produced one of my older brothers swim suits, and directed him
to the bathroom to change. Paul, to his credit, didn't put up much
resistance, and was soon standing before me wearing only my brothers swim
shorts. My heart raced at warp speed, as I drank in the glory that was his
near naked body, and the all consuming lump at his crotch. Finally, please
God, I was going to experience seeing, and handling, a full grown man, and
a darn fine specimen he was, too. And, equally as thrilling to my oversexed
young mind, he was going to see, and handle me, as well, and I was NOT
going to take no, for an answer.

   We went out to the back patio, and slipped into the bubbling water, Paul
taking up a seat opposite my position. The hot water was frothy, and ultra
relaxing, and we soon relaxed, and settled back. A few minutes passed
quietly, and my mind raced with ideas of how to advance the
situation. Finally, in a moment of daring, I extended my leg, and made
contact with his upper thigh, pressing my foot into the firm flesh, as my
mind reeled from the contact. Paul made no move to break the contact, but
rather extended his own leg, and pressed his foot directly into my swollen
crotch, massaging my throbbing boner. I lifted my hips slightly, adding
return pressure to his exploring foot, hoping to signal him that it was OK,
that I loved him touching me there. To add emphasis to my silent message, I
boldly moved my foot into his tented lap, and pressed against his very
large erection, moving my foot against it. The collapse of the remaining
barriers was so complete as to be nearly audible, as Paul abruptly stood,
then resettled right next to me, his large hand moving directly to my
crotch, and firmly gripping my rock hard cock. I quickly mirrored his
actions, and reached into his lap, seizing his thick cock in my fingers.

   We fondled each other a bit, then the swim trunks disappeared, and we
got much more serious with our actions. I was in heaven, groping this
hairy, man sized weapon, stroking it madly, and hefting his bulky balls
with the other hand. For his part, Paul was suddenly like a starving dog
that had found a meaty bone, and he was literally all over me. His big
hands roamed my chest, and tugged at my small nipples, while his other hand
stroked my raging erection, and toyed with my small, tight ball sac. I was
uttering a steady series of pleasurable moans, my entire body singing with
sensation, and Paul finally slid his hands into my hairless underarms, and
lifted me, until my naked butt was seated on the deck that surrounded the
hot tub. My granite hard cock stood straight and tall, waving in the warm
night air, and Paul stared at it, transfixed for a moment, before moving in
between my spread legs. He knelt, and gently cupped my balls in his hand,
then, leaned closer to me, and engulfed the whole of my turgid cock into
his incredibly warm mouth. My cock, and my entire being, felt as if it had
suddenly burst into flames, as my mind reeled with the sensation of his
silky smooth mouth encasing my cock, and his thick fingers strumming pure
magic on my aching balls. His movements were expert, and eager, and I was
so overcharged with wanting, and anticipation, that I just couldn't hold
it. As desperately as I wanted it to go on forever, it was more like maybe
two minutes, tops, and my cock seemed to swell to the point of exploding,
and I erupted, strongly jetting several rapid spurts of my milky boy cum
into his mouth. Paul continued his expert sucking, as he deftly gulped down
every drop of my offering, until I was drained. He stopped then, as my now
super sensitive cock couldn't take any more, and stood before me. I reached
for his massive erection, rubbing it furiously, and moved forward, fully
intending to suck that monster, and experience his copious eruption of man
cum.

   I had barely gotten my stretched lips around the plumb shaped head of
his thick tool, when he grabbed the sides of my head, and stopped me,
telling me that he wanted something different. Puzzled beyond belief, but
totally willing to do his bidding, I acquiesced, and willingly allowed him
to pick me up, and carry me inside, even telling him where my bedroom was
located. Once there, he laid me on my bed, and rolled me onto my tummy, at
the same time asking me if we had any kind of oil, or lotion in the
house. I indicated my night stand, where I secreted a bottle of baby oil
for use during my night time adventures, and he quickly retrieved it. He
stretched out across the lower end of my bed, his face in line with my firm
little boy butt, and I squealed, as I suddenly felt the wetness of his
tongue all over my bubble cheeks. He licked, and kissed, all over my
upturned butt, and I began to worry that he was going to fuck me with that
monster cock, but pretty much stopped caring, when he parted the globes of
my ass, and poked at my tight little hole with that magic tongue. He licked
at me a while, his hands seemingly everywhere that his tongue was not,
then, paused. I felt the sudden infusion of the slippery oil inside the
cleft of my butt, and the fear that he was planning to fuck me returned. He
applied enough of the slick oil to my crevice to prevent chaffing for the
rest of my natural life, and then rose over me, inserting that thick tool
into my slippery crack. He made no effort to penetrate me, and I soon
realized that he was merely thrusting his big cock up and down the length
of my well oiled cleft, and I relaxed, moving with him, and alternately
clenching, and relaxing, my firm melons around his thickness. He lasted a
bit better than I had, but not much, and a short time later, I felt him
make a powerful thrust, and then tense, and I felt the sudden wetness of
his strong ejaculations pump his thick cream into the crack of my ass, and
coat my ball sac.

   Finished, Paul rolled to his side, his breath ragged, and rapid. We lay
there, slowly recovering, and he finally got to his feet, and left my
room. I rolled over, and surveyed the mess his eruption had left on me, and
my sheet, then got up, and wiped myself off with a tee shirt that was lying
next to my bed. I was nothing short of ecstatic at the events that had
finally occurred, and hurried into the living room, fully ready to pick up
right where we had left off. I stopped up short, stunned at seeing a now
fully dressed Paul. He stared at me for a minute, well, mostly at my
semi-hard boy cock, to be truthful, then, suddenly turned, and walked out
the front door, and was gone, just like that.

   The following Monday, Paul contacted my Mother, and informed her that he
was relocating to another city, and that he would no longer be available to
provide my guitar lessons, and, I never heard from him again. If there was
a positive side to this occurrence, it was that it confirmed my long held
suspicion that sex, in whatever form, was far superior undertaken with an
adult male, than it was with other boys my age, and, it had given me the
clear message that such things were indeed possible, if the boy assumed the
more aggressive role. Both of these lessons have served me far better than
learning to play the guitar, even the more complex chords of A, and D.

The End
Storyguy22@yahoo.com