Date: Fri, 10 Apr 2020 21:17:53 +0000 (UTC) From: Erin Boy Subject: One Last Taste of Boy Please support Nifty to keep these stories coming. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Comments always welcome at erinboy_98@yahoo.com I was recently reminded of this event, which took place about 20 years ago. My wife and I were active in folk music and dance back then and used to attend an annual festival held at a nearby high school. Our son had grown up attending this gathering and was about 15 then. He had a classmate he was friends with who was confined to a wheelchair. We often took him with us to different events and activities. I don't remember his name, so I will just call him Jack. My wife was off someplace square dancing while the boys and I were watching a Latvian folk dance group perform in the big gym. Jack tapped me on the leg to get my attention and told me he had to pee. I told my son to stay there until we came back and went in search of a handicapped rest room, which we found outside the cafeteria. I wheeled Jack in and locked the door behind us. I never had any conversations with the boy about the nature of his disability and what his limitations were. His wheelchair was of a recumbent design with his lower extremities horizontal and his upper body about half upright. He indicated the plastic urinal in a bag hanging from the side of the chair and instructed me to pull down his loose fitting grey sweat pants. He was not wearing any underwear and it was almost unavoidable that my hand should brush against his uncut penis. I say unavoidable, but I must confess I've handled more than a few boy cocks in my youth and I was not inclined to miss this opportunity. The urinal was about the size of a half gallon milk bottle with a 2" opening at the top of a goose neck. He had me position the jug between his thighs and take hold of his penis and place the head inside the opening. He then let loose a thick stream of yellow piss while I aimed it down into the urinal while holding his cock with two fingers and a thumb. When he was done I milked the last few drops and removed the jug. I neglected to pull his sweatpants up while I emptied it out and rinsed it in the sink. When I turned around I was taken aback by what I saw. His cock stood fully upright, no longer nestled on his furry ball sack. Neither of us spoke. My hand reached out and I made to cover him up, but could not resist the temptation to examine his equipment more closely. I looked at Jack. He had a big grin as he looked at me and then at his cock. I said "Have you done this before?" to which he nodded yes. "And you know you can't tell anyone, right?" to which he assented. "Especially not Roger" [my son]. Our agreement made I began to lightly touch the head of his cock, rubbing the tip with my finger and spreading the sticky exude across the glans. Pushing the foreskin back to expose the corona I began to stroke up and down with fingers and thumb. I would say his cock was about six inches and fairly thick. I took the head into my mouth and twirled my tongue around it. When it was fully hard I began to suck hard on the shaft taking its full length in my mouth. I was ecstatic to be savoring the first boy cock I had had in more than a decade. But my pleasure was cut short as I sensed the telltale signs of imminent eruption. He was right on the edge, his breathing heavy and making soft mewing sounds like a kitten getting a tummy rub. Then he came, filling my mouth with a sweet flood of boyish nectar. I swallowed it greedily, milking every last drop. I took one last look at his softening boy bits and pulled his sweatpants back up. The look on Jack's face was priceless. When we got back to the gym, my son said "Where were you guys?" I said "We stopped and got a sausage at the Hungarian booth". I never got another chance to connect with Jack. After graduating from high school he and my son went their separate ways. I'll always be grateful to him for giving me one last taste of boy. Other stories by this author: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#erinboy