This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts between a man and a minor boy. The story is not true; the sexual acts described herein derive solely from imagination. It is not intended to promote illegal acts with/to/by minors, nor does it condone child abuse of any sort. If you object to the subject matter, stop reading. If you are legally under age to be reading this, or if your reading of this material otherwise violates laws in your place of residence or where you are currently located, stop reading. Thank you.
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(For the most part I see my stories as fantasy. If they do nothing else, they ask, "What if..." Those who wish to comment, may email me at email@example.com)
I checked my watch - again. For the tenth time. And for the tenth time, I looked over at the entrance to the YMCA. Nothing. "Get out here, you little bastard," I muttered. 6:45. 6:46 (I checked my watch for the eleventh time.) Fuck, I thought, as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. All because I'm a nice guy.
I did some calculations. At this point I was going to be at least 20 minutes late. I'd already called once, just to let her know. I flicked through the names in my cell. Christine. I was about to dial, then figured I should wait until I knew just how late I would be.
All because I'm a nice guy. Peggy Lawson had called fifty minutes ago. "Greg. It's Peggy." I could hear the desperation in her voice. "I'm tied up in chambers. And Bill's out of town...And...well...could you get Marc? He's at the Y. He's got swim practice until 6:30."
"Sure, Peggy. I'd be glad to. That's what neighbors are for. I've got a date at 7:00, but that should work out fine."
"Oh, that's great. You can just drop him off. He's got a key."
"No problem," I said.
"You're a lifesaver. We owe you a dinner - another one."
"No problem," I repeated. Except now it was. I put in another call to Christine. She answered on the fourth ring. "Hi, it's Greg. Ahh...this is taking a little longer than I thought. It's gonna be about 20 minutes before I can get there." I could hear music in the background and knew she was already at the bar.
"You know what, Greg, why don't you just forget it. You don't need to come."
"No. Really. It'll be fine. Good Bye."
Fuck! Blown off by that bitch. All because I'm a nice guy. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Where the fuck are you, you little prick?" I checked my watch. It was just a little before 7:00. I wasn't about to wait a second longer. I got out of my truck and marched into the Y. I checked the pool. It was empty. Had I been sitting there for nothing? Where was that little brat? I wandered down to the locker room. Well, at least there were kids still there, because I could hear their high-pitched screams and squeals and taunts. A bunch of mothers were sitting around on benches, and I wasn't about to do that. I opened the door to the locker room and stepped around the corner. Fifteen naked boys met my gaze. I shuddered at the sight and almost immediately felt my cock begin to swell. My eyes fell on one good looking body, and knew Marc was going to be even later. I'd never seen him in the nude before, but somehow I found his smooth, firm body mesmerizing. It was hard to pull my eyes away. Fuck this. I ducked back outside, finding it vaguely uncomfortable that I'd begun to respond to a bunch of naked boys. Jeez, what the hell? You some kind of pervert or something? I asked myself.
Finally, at 7:05 a bunch of kids appeared, seeming to squeeze all at once through the door out into the cool October air. They all seemed about Marc's age. Then Marc appeared. He was maybe 12, certainly no older and could easily have been younger. He was all of five feet tall if that and must have weighed in at under 100 pounds. That would have made him slim, but not skinny. I'd seen him playing next door often enough - sometimes in just his shorts. If I had to describe his build, I'd say he was wiry.
When he pushed through the door, his deep blue eyes zeroed in on my pickup. His face lit up and a big smile stretched across his face as if he had all the time in the world. He hitched his book pack up on his shoulder and waved. Yeah, ya little bastard, I thought, get your ass into this truck right now. As if he heard me, he started for the truck. His face was, I suppose you could say, sweet. Actually, he reminded me of the kid actor in Master and Commander - the one who gets his arm cut off. I just knew in a couple of years, girls would be draped all over him, if they weren't already. Though from what I'd seen of the kid, he could have cared less. But what do I know? At 27 years old, I felt like I knew less than I did when I was fifteen, tonight being a case in point.
Christine would never have understood that I was late because I was helping a neighbor. The times we'd been out had established that she wanted to be the center of attention. Now it hit me: I didn't want her anyway. Sure the sex was good enough, but it really didn't mean all that much. So there it is: Fuck you, bitch. Maybe I should be glad she blew me off.
By now, Marc was sliding his backpack onto the floor of the cab and climbing in. "Hi!" he said happily.
"Hi," I said back, still thinking I'd like to kill the little prick - just on principle.
"Something wrong?" he asked. Perceptive little snipe, I'll give him that.
"Nah," I said. "What took so long?"
He looked confused. "Nuthin'."
"I thought you were supposed to be out at 6:30."
A wave of concern clouded his face. "Yeah...we do...except Wednesdays. Then we've got the pool until 7:00." He looked at me a while longer. "I'm sorry, Greg," he said sweetly. "I hope I didn't screw anything up."
I snorted a short laugh. "Nah, not really," I said, turned the key, and pulled out.
I turned on the radio. The news was wrapping up. "And here's one for the weird file: Roy and Gladys Johnson of Duncanville claim they've been abducted by space aliens. The couple says three nights ago, they were driving..."
"Cool," Marc said. "You think UFO's are real?"
"I don't know, champ. There're a lot of crazies out there. What do you think?"
"I dunno. Could be. It'd be cool to see one."
The radio announcer continued: "The Johnsons claim that they were in the spacecraft for hours or possibly days, although when they were returned to their car, only minutes had passed..."
"Yeah, right," I chuckled as I turned off State 101 and headed for home.
"Greg, do you come into the locker room?"
"Yeah, I did. I just wanted to be sure you...ah...were okay."
"Oh. I didn't see you, but Kyle said some guy was checking me out."
"I wouldn't exactly put it that way," I muttered, but I realized that's exactly what I was doing.
"Did you...um...you know...see..." He blushed a deep red.
"Don't worry, champ, I didn't see anything."
"Oh," he said, almost sounding disappointed.
Ten minutes later we were in the middle of Indiana corn fields, halfway to home. It was then that my pickup decided to start acting up.
"Why's it making that noise?" Marc asked, straightening up some.
"Don't know." It was weird - kind of a moaning sound. Then suddenly, the headlights faded, and then just as suddenly got really bright, then everything died. The only noise we could hear was the sound of the tires on the pavement. Good thing the road was straight as an arrow. I braked, and we rolled to a stop.
"What do we do now?" the boy asked.
"Don't know, champ." I said. I reached under the seat and found a flashlight. "Damn," I muttered. The battery was dead. "Maybe there's a loose cable somewhere," I said, opening the door. In the fading light of the October evening, I opened the hood. I glanced over and Marc's big blue eyes were round as saucers. I checked the cables. Everything seemed tight. "Well, champ," I guess we better call." I pulled out my cell. "Fuck," I muttered. It was dead, too.
"You can use mine," Marc offered. But his was dead, too. "This is creepy, Greg," he said, pressing against me. And the truth was, if I hadn't been so pissed, I'd have been feeling a little creepy, too. At least I should have been. But before I could answer we were bathed in a brilliant red light. I felt the boy's hands grab onto me, and then all I could see was red. Then nothing.
It's a dream. I can't move. I'm trying, but I can't. It's cold. There's a noise, a moaning sound. I want to find out where it's coming from, but I can't move. I try again to get up. Suddenly, there's a searing pain. "Arrrraaaaaa" I'm screaming like I'm going to die. There's a fire in my balls. And then, nothing again.
Then, more moans. I try to focus, but it's like I'm blind. I can see nothing. Then I hear the moaning again. It sounds like a child...a boy. Now he's screaming. "Huhh!" I'm awake now...but I still can't move. There's a dull ache in my balls, but nothing like before. Now I realize I'm naked. I'm lying on some kind of hard table, and yet, as I feel it against my body I realize that it conforms to me perfectly...even...with some sort of narrow something that fits deep into my crack with a knob that's lodged in my asshole. I try to lift my arm, but I can't, but even as I try, I realize there is nothing holding me - no restraints...except a smooth, round, cool band that fits tightly around my scrotum, close to my body, holding my testicles away from my body.
With every muscle I possess, I try to free myself, but I can't move. And that band around my balls is colder. I relax, and the band warms slightly. Hmmm. I feel exhausted, but one more time, I suddenly try to lift myself. "Ahhh." The band is freezing; it's so cold, it feels like it's burning if that makes sense. I stop. It warms. Though I can't know how, I do know this is the thing that is controlling me.
"Aaaaaa!" The boy screams again, and now my head is clear enough to realize it's Marc.
"Marc!" I call. "Marc!" At least I can still speak. I hear the boy sobbing.
"It hurts," he moans. He sounds almost delirious. "It hurts." The voice is tortured, but I know it is Marc's.
Then there is silence. I can only hear his shallow, halting breaths.
I come to again, and this time, I can see. It's light, and warm. And I'm free from restraints. As my mind clears, I realize I'm in some sort of bed. And there's something against me. Someone. I look down. It's Marc. He's nestled up against my body, fitting it, as if he were my negative and I were his positive. My yin to his yang. He's sleeping. I've got some kind of garment on: a toga or robe. It's light, almost metallic. Silvery. It shimmers. It's arms drape down over my arms, and it reaches down probably to my knees. As I lay there, I realize I'm also wearing some kind of undergarment - not unlike a jockstrap or maybe a thong. I can't see it, so it's hard to tell. But what I can tell is that the cool thin band is still holding my balls away from my body. And something else: the boy has his hand around my manhood. It's already semi-hard. Every few seconds, his hand twitches, and if he keeps that up, I'm going to have a raging hard-on.
I shift slightly to try to dislodge his grasp, but he's holding on pretty good. I glance down at his face. It's totally at ease, angelic almost: smooth and pure, with the hint of a small smile. I can see his eyes - at least their movement underneath two perfect lids each fringed with handsome light-colored lashes. From the corners of his eyes, I can see little dried whitish trails, and I know I'm looking at the remnants of his sobbing.
I look down his body. He has no robe. Rather he is wearing only a thong type of thing, made, apparently of the same material as my robe. I can see only the outer edges of it, the thin band around his waist, and the top part of the string that dips down in the cleft between his tight little boy butt cheeks. I'm struck by the beauty of that butt: two firm, smooth, outcroppings and perfectly shaped. Roundish, but pulled in at the sides, accenting their elevation and muscular strength. Only after the thought am I repelled by the attraction I'm sensing in myself to this boy. I feel myself blushing, and my heart pounds. But even as I feel guilt at seeing the boy's body in a way that is hinting at my arousal, I find myself gazing at the rest of him. His thick, short hair like plush velvet, his gently heaving chest. His beautiful, perfect nipples, centered and erect. Strong, muscular sides, tapering gently to his hips. His firm, muscled tummy. His legs, like his arms, straight, and strong, dusted with just a downy hint of the finest whitish, blond hair. I feel my penis pulse, and I realize that I'm experiencing the first moments of arousal. I'm disgusted and ashamed, and I shift, now, trying to break the "bond" of the child's hand on my cock.
Now he stirs. His eyes, his beautiful, round, blue eyes open, and he sighs and stiffens, not unlike any child awaking from a deep sleep. He looks up. "Hi," he says with a smile.
"Hi," I say. "Are you okay?"
His smile fades, and his eyes narrow. I know he is remembering. "Now," he says simply.
"Good," I say. I reach out, and though I'm not sure what makes me do it, I rub my hand up and down his back and onto his left butt cheek. He glances up at me and smiles, but stiffens at the touch of my hand resting there. I remove it quickly and redden. At the same time, he seems to become aware of his hand and my cock as he massages it. Suddenly he is the one reddening, and he quickly releases his grip and rolls quickly over.
"It's okay, Marc. Don't worry about that. We just need to focus on how to get out of here."
Now he rolls back to face me. "Where IS here?" he asks. He suddenly looks careworn and even a little afraid, showing the worries of someone much older.
"Oh, God, Marc, I wish I knew."
"Are we on a UFO, do you think?"
"If I had to say, I'd say we were."
He was silent for a moment, then in typical kid fashion, announced, "I'm hungry." And almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, I smelled something like pancakes and strawberries. I rose up off the bed. To the side was a table. On it was a sumptuous breakfast. Marc rose now, but before he could react to the heavenly vision of food, he saw my eyes drinking in his almost total nakedness. A nicely proportioned swelling beneath the shimmering tight patch of cloth covering his boyhood had once again focused me in a strange and unwelcome way. Truthfully the covering was more like a codpiece, more like a sleeve around his equipment, than anything else. He blushed, and dropped his hands self-consciously to cover himself.
"Marc," I said. "I'm sorry, I don't know why, but my eyes just kind of were drawn 'down there'. I'm sorry, but as long as we're in this kind of weird situation, I think we better just try to go with things a bit. Okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry, too. I mean about...um...you know...holding onto your...thing."
I smiled. "No problem, champ." I patted his shoulder, and he seemed to relax. "Now, you hungry?"
"Yeah! You think it's okay to eat it?"
"Well, we have a choice. Either we do or don't. You know, if those people on the radio were telling the truth, then we're probably their next victims. But I figure they must have eaten, and they're okay."
He nodded, and tentatively picked up a strawberry and began to chew it in the most suggestive manner. A bit of juice dribbled down his chin, and I reached out and wiped it off. His skin was exquisitely soft and smooth, and again, I squelched the unwelcome thoughts that flooded into my consciousness. I blushed and felt guilt welling up from within. Where were these lustful urges coming from? Had the boy before me been a young woman, then it might be understandable. But my neighbor's kid? A boy? A twelve-year-old? God, I thought, that's sick! What must he be thinking? I asked myself, but as I glanced over at him, the only "vibe" I was getting from him was that he had enjoyed the contact.
"Let's eat," I suggested, hoping to deflect the weird flood of emotions that were surging through me.
We did eat, and after that, we explored our little cell. It was basically a cube - about 15 feet by 15 by 15. There appeared to be various "ports" in the walls - places where there MIGHT be an opening, but there was no way to open them or at least none that I could see. It was Marc who discovered that by putting his ear against the wall, he could hear a soft humming sound. Though impossible to prove, it was easy to believe we were on some sort of spacecraft. Finally, it was also evident that there was nothing more to be gained by examining the walls, so I figured we might as well sit back down.
And since there was no where else to sit, I lay back on the bed. I stacked up the pillows to make a backrest.
Marc looked up at me with longing eyes. "Um...can...I...sit with you?"
"Sure," I said. He came up and settled in next to me. Almost as soon as we had done that, we heard a click and one of the "ports" opened on the wall and two small tennis-ball sized "orbs" floated out. That got our attention. Cautiously we got back up and tried to corral one. It was utterly silent, and showed no source of its mobility, but it managed to elude us at every attempt to snag it - no matter how coordinated, how planned, how logical we tried to be. That went on for about 20 minutes. Finally, it ceased being anything but frustrating and we both sat down again.
In all the time we'd lived next to each other, I bet we hadn't talked more than a couple dozen times. Now, with apparently nothing else to do, we began sharing our life stories.
"How come you're not married?" the boy asked once, then reddened, and apologized. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I asked that. I apologize."
"No," I answered. "It's okay. Really." I smiled to try to reassure him. "I guess the short answer is, I don't know." We both chuckled at that. "It's not like I haven't tried." Marc smiled and blushed in reply. "How 'bout you?" I asked. "You have a..." I almost regretted going down this road, now that I'd started. "...girlfriend?"
He blushed deeply. "I'm not..." he paused. I don't know what he was going to say, but I got the impression whatever it was, he changed in mid-stream. "really...um...into girls." I grinned and resisted making a joke about the image that came to mind as he said "into girls".
"Well, I said, "you've got plenty of time. No hurry there." I rubbed his stomach lightly, though for the life of me, I can't tell you why...except it seemed like a good thing to do.
"Do you do sex?" he asked, and then immediately looked like he'd been shot. Red flushed all the way up to his hair and down to his neck. "Oh God," he breathed. "I'm sorry, Greg. Oh God."
Again the question, the way he phrased it, and his reaction made me grin. "Well, my nosy little neighbor, if you must know...then yeah, I've had sex. More than once even! How about you?" My God, I thought, where did that come from? I wondered if we'd been drugged, but I didn't feel like I had been.
He blushed deeply. "No!" he said adamantly, then blushed even a deeper red.
"Well, no need to get snotty about it," I said, poking him in the ribs, He broke out into laughter. We'd gone several hours without the benefit of "facilities" and even as he laughed, a look of concern flooded over him. "Greg...stop...please...I'm gonna pee." He grew very serious.
The orbs, which had been just sort of floating there, now seemed to come to attention. They moved in closer, though stayed out of reach. One seemed to drift down to within feet of Marc's little package. Suddenly there was a click and a hum and a "device" seemed to materialize out of the floor. It was clear what it was for. We exchanged glances. I shrugged. "Well..." I said "if ya' gotta go...ya' gotta go." I smiled doubtfully. He rose up and stepped to the "toilet". The orbs seemed to follow him and came to rest right over the opening that would receive his fluid.
"They're watching aren't they?" he asked.
"Yeah, Marc, I think they are."
"So there's no point in waiting, huh?"
"I don't think so," I answered. He looked mortified. "Hey, champ," I said softly. "I'm next in line, so don't take all day, huh?" I gave him a little grin, and that seemed to help.
Carefully, he began to lower his covering. He looked up at me, and I turned away to give him some privacy. In a moment, I heard the soft splash of urine. It seemed to go on forever. I was amazed at the size of the boy's bladder.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'm done."
I got up and we basically changed placed. I opened my gown and lowered my undergarment, which was not unlike his. That damn orb floated and watched. After a moment, the flow began. I have to confess, it felt good to finally empty myself.
When I was done and put back together, I scooted back up onto the bed. "That wasn't so bad, I guess," I said.
"I guess not," Marc answered. Somewhat awkwardly, it seemed, he snuggled up to me. He looked up into my eyes and deliberately rested his hand on my chest. I wondered what he had in mind, but for the time being, he simply seemed to want some contact. I reached out and put my arm around his shoulder.
After a moment, he began a slow massage of my chest through the gown that I wore. It felt so good, though therein lay "the rub". Even as I was about to stop him, he shifted his position, pressing his boyhood against my thigh. It seemed unmistakable what he was doing, and I looked at his face, trying to figure out exactly what to say to stop him without hurting his feelings. Frankly, I was stunned that this little boy that I had known for years was coming onto me this way - that any boy would WANT to do that, but there was no denying his intention. No wonder, I thought, he said he wasn't into girls. But even as I was thinking that, I was asking why now. If he wanted to put the make on me, he'd had ample opportunity. No, something else was going on. And now, I began to wonder if he knew what he was doing. When I looked at him, I was startled. There seemed to be some terrible struggle going on inside the boy.
"Marc, what is it?"
He looked up at me and his taut little body actually seemed to tremble. "I...I...don't know."
"Why are you doing that?"
"Doing what you're doing?"
"I...I...don't know," he breathed, and now he seemed almost about to cry.
"Maybe it might be a good idea to stop then," I said gently.
Now he looked even more mortified. "You don't like it?"
"It's not that I don't...ahm...Marc, I'm just not sure..." I reached out and, admittedly with a great deal of self-control, lifted his hand from my chest. Immediately, a tightening that rapidly turned into heat surged around my balls. "Aggghhh," Marc cried out. "It's happening again," he whimpered. Clearly he was in as much pain as I was. I let his hand drop back onto my chest. The pain stopped immediately. He scrambled up even closer to me and snuggled trembling in my arms.
"Marc," I said finally. "Do you have a band around your scrotum?"
"My what?" I smiled.
"Down around your balls?"
"Yeah," he said, and blushed. He hand began massaging my chest again. "Do you have one, too?"
"Yes." I was beginning to get a picture of where this was heading, and I was definitely not liking it. I suppose if I were to be completely honest now, I would have to admit that there had always been a part of me that found other males attractive - but it wasn't a big part of me. The truth was I THOUGHT I found females more attractive. Certainly my entire sexual experience was with women. The fact that a young boy's hand was awakening me, was frightening. And yet, somehow I feared that this is exactly what our captors were wanting to see. And so the choice became either extreme pain or deal with the guilt of adult-child sex. Oh God, I wished I could have gotten to our captors and strangled them. Even in my rage, though, I realized something else. At this point, I had every reason to believe that the couple on the radio was telling the truth, and if they had been abducted, as we had been, then they had also been released. If we could get through this, then we would survive.
Now I had another thought. How much does Marc know? Does he understand what is happening? Does he want this to happen?
And that led to another, more troubling thought: Is this entire "situation" being controlled by our captors? Just how much control do we have anyway?
I'm not sure I'd ever know the answer, and even if I did, I wasn't sure it would make a difference.
"Marc," I said softly. "I think we need to talk."
"Okay," he said. "About what?"
"You asked me about sex."
"I said I was sorry," the boy protested, blushing.
"Shhh," I breathed. "It's okay. Really. It's alright. Why did you ask? That's what I need to know."
He looked like I'd asked an impossible question. "I...I don't know."
"No," I said, "I suppose you don't." I smiled, and he seemed to relax some. "Marc, I think our captors - the watchers - somehow are able to control us - what we do, maybe even what we think. I think there are things that they are making us do...making us say, and we can't really stop them. Do you understand?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
"Like now, for instance, rubbing your hand on my chest. Pressing your...self...against me."
He blushed. "You want me to stop?"
"You can try. Let's see what happens."
A great sigh issued from the boy. He bit his lip and slowed his movement on my chest. He frowned, then I saw a flood of pain flow across his eyes. I knew what he was feeling because I was feeling it too. In my balls.
"Okay, Marc. It's okay...you can do it again." He trembled, but his hand quickly resumed its ministrations. Now, I understood some of his torment, for deep in my consciousness, I felt an urge taking shape - an urge to reach back and caress the boy's tight little ass. I was breathing harder now, though as much from a sense of shame and guilt as anything else. "Marc, I have to ask you something else, and I need you to be very, very honest with me."
I think he could tell from my look and my tone that I was desperately serious.
"Okay," he said.
"Have you ever had sex?"
"No!" he repeated, again with an almost indignant tone. If the situation hadn't been so dire, I might have laughed. Now I shook with a whole combination of sensations, because suddenly I realized that my hand was caressing the smoothest skin I can ever remember feeling. His right butt cheek felt incredible in my hand, and it seemed to turn some switch deep inside me.
"Mmmm," the boy hummed. I felt his little tool pulse once against my thigh. He looked up at me with a smile that was quickly replaced by a look of concern. He truly didn't understand what was happening.
"Marc," I said as gently as possible. "Our watchers want us to do something. I think they're waiting for it to happen. I think they're helping it to happen."
"I think they want us to have sex."
The twelve-year-old's mouth dropped open. It looked as if he were about to protest.
"Shhh," I whispered. "It's alright. As much as we'd like, I don't think we can stop it. I'm sorry, Marc."
"But...we...we can't...I can't...I'm...not old enough." As I think about that now, I realized how odd it was for him to say that. What I would have expected him to say, is, "But we're two guys!" But clearly that wasn't what was troubling him.
I smiled into those sweet eyes. "Anybody - at any age - is capable of having sex. It's just that children usually don't know much about how to do it. And, more important, most children aren't EMOTIONALLY ready to have sex...but basically, your body will react to sexual stimulation just the way mine does."
"Even if we're both boys," he asked. There was something half-hearted about the question - as if he already knew the answer.
"Do you know what 'gay' means?"
He blushed. "Yeah."
"Well, two men - boys - males...can have sex."
He trembled as I gazed at him.
"I...don't know how." He struggled to figure out what he wanted to say. "I don't know what to do."
"I'm so sorry this is happening," I said to him. "but, your body will simply react to what's happening to it...like when I put my hand on your butt." I cupped his cheek with hand and stroked it with my thumb. He sighed...involuntarily. "Does that feel nice."
"Yeah," he said tentatively. "It does."
I felt his prick throb once. "And your penis...did you feel it start to get hard?"
He blushed and knew the answer to my question. "Yeah," he breathed.
"That's how your body responds when it gets ready for sex." I smiled hopefully. "I know I'm throwing a lot at you all at once, Marc, and I'm sorry, but I don't think there's much time...and I want you to understand at least a little of what's going to happen. Are you okay?"
He was looking really concerned, but he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'm okay."
"Okay...some more stuff: sex feels really, really incredible. Your body feels different from anything you've ever felt before. Usually, people who have sex, WANT to have sex. What's happening to us is..."
"Unusual," Marc said. I smiled and nodded. I started to say something else, but a look of concern flooded over him. "Greg...can...we...take your top off?" His whole face turned red and tears actually started to fill his eyes. I felt so badly for him.
"See, Marc, that's just what I'm talking about. I know that idea didn't come from you...did it?"
He shook his head. "I'm....sorry..."
"No," I said. "Don't be. It's nothing you can control. Nothing we do here is under our control. And if we try to stop it, we will feel the pain again. Did you understand?" His face was full of confusion. He looked up and down my body. Suddenly he reached out and began to pull up my robe. It was getting to be an effort to speak, but I had to make sure he understood. "Marc!" I grabbed him by the arms. In our balls, we both felt a dull pain. He sucked in a breath, but he looked into my eyes. "We can't feel bad about what's happening. We should just let it happen to us. Don't fight it. We can't control it. The sooner we do it, maybe the sooner we'll get to go home. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he sighed, then resumed his efforts to rid me of my robe. I helped him then, and in no time he was gazing upon my body, which was now as nearly naked as his.
"Just remember...it's okay what you're feeling. When we're having...sex..." His eyes widened and he actually gulped in air. "you're going to feel incredible things happening to your body. It may even be a little scary it feels so awesome. But don't worry. It will be fine when it's all over. You will feel completely...relaxed afterward...even though it may feel like you're going to explode before that." I realized I was practically jabbering like a wild man, but I needed him to understand.
"We'll talk about it more afterward."
Truthfully, I don't know how much he heard of my last "speech." I realized now, my hands were massaging his butt with an almost ferocious need. His hands had found my nipples, and he was kneading them inexpertly though effectively. He smiled as they rose like little echoes of his penis. He shuddered now - a look I was now coming to understand as the moment when he was being given another "suggestion". Slowly, he leaned down and kissed my left nipple. He look it between his lips and gently nibbled on it.
"Ohhhh," I moaned, "M-a-a-a-a-r-r-c." His touch was electric. I swallowed hard. He ran his hand over the sparse hair on my chest, then down my stomach. At the same time he lifted up and looked into my eyes. He was hungry, his drive for sex clearly beginning to awaken, and yet there was an almost painful look of uncertainty. It focused me off the sensations he was sending through my body and for an instant, I thought, if only this were of our own choosing, then how wonderful it would be. It was a frightening thought because I knew it came from me and no one else. A wave of guilt shook me to my core.
"Greg?" His soft, tentative voice refocused me. A quick glance of his eyes down to my lips told me what he wanted to do. I reached up and placed one hand on the back of his head and guided his mouth to mine. His eyes were closed. Our lips touched. It was like some our life force flowed from one to the other in that moment. We broke, though just for an instant, then I lowered him to me again. We kissed longer now and harder. He trembled all over.
He pressed himself into me more now. His little poker was rapidly growing to it's full length. Now I reached down and again felt the smooth firmness of his tight boy-ass. It was completely hairless. Smooth as a baby's butt. Hell, it WAS a baby's butt. I let my fingers drift up and down his crack, feeling the heat, the hint of sweat, the exquisite smoothness. He moaned softly and shifted under my touch. We continued to kiss. I'd let my tongue press in through his yielding lips, and he mimicked my movements. Now an all out mutual exploration of our hot, wet mouths began. I could feel his body slowly tighten, then ease with the energy that was flowing through him for the first time.
Now I let a finger settle in on his tiny pucker. It was completely "alien" to me to be doing this, but even so, I felt mild frustration that the thin string of his thong-thing obscured my probing. In one move, he stiffened and, breaking our kiss, lifted away and sucked in a desperate breath.
"Wh...what are you doing?" he asked with a trembling voice.
"I'm just touching you...exploring," I said.
"Yes, Marc. Did it feel nice?"
"It..." He blushed deeply, and I already knew the answer. "...it...made something...I felt...it made my body like wake up."
"Yeah," I said.
A look of concern flowed into his face. "They're making you do it, though. Right?"
I thought about that. I never would have done this with a sex partner - with a woman. I don't know where the idea came from...so..."Yeah, Marc, it's them." As I watched, a different look filled his eyes. It was fleeting, but to me it looked like a wave of disappointment.
"You..." He looked up and held me in his gaze. "You...can...um...do it some more if you want...If you have to...I mean if they're making you."
I smiled, and leaned up and kissed him lightly on his lips.
"Okay," I said, "but I think we've gone about as far with that as we can."
"Why?" He sounded desperate.
Again I smiled as he betrayed his true desire. "Well, because to go farther, we need some sort of lubrication...you know, to make things slide a little better. Otherwise the friction might be uncomfortable."
"Oh," he said simply, though I realized he really didn't understand my rather vague explanation. He seemed clearly disappointed. He shrugged and dipped his head down and we kissed again. We'd only kissed a few seconds when he broke again. "Hey!" he said.
"One of those things - those floaters - bumped my butt crack. It's cold there. I'd moved my fingers away from his cleft as we'd talked. Now I let them drift back in, and found a glob of some sort of gel. I looked over his shoulder, down his nicely tapered back, to those two incredible mounds. I moved my fingers, feeling the ultra-slick gel.
"It's stuff to get you slippery," I said. He actually grinned. It was becoming clear that his sex drive was in high gear. As I thought back fourteen years to my own awakenings, I guess it was to be expected. I remember how little it took to move me from a kid focused on his baseball cards in one instant, to a kid with a raging hard-on needing desperate attention a moment later. Sometimes it was just a rustle of clothing against my cock. Sometimes it was a mildly suggestive situation. Sometimes, who knows what it was. Marc was undoubtedly experiencing the same off-on stimulation, and it was consuming him, just as sex consumes any young boy as he first discovers its power. It's too powerful a force to resist, as I was now seeing. I just hoped when it was all over, the guilt he'd feel wouldn't be too great.
"So..." he said tentatively, "...we can...explore?"
"If you want," I answered. Even as I spoke, I felt my slicked-up fingers drifting back in over his firmness toward his crack and the little bud it hid at its center.
He trembled but nodded. "Okay," he whispered.
Suddenly, I had another wave of energy flow through me, and I knew I had to do something else before we went any further. Now it was my turn to blush, and I knew this was not my thought, but that of our watchers. I trembled now as Marc trembled. I shifted out from under him, and lifted him so that he was standing in front of me. I knelt before him, and with hands controlled from somewhere else, I felt his smooth, tapering sides. My fingers hooked into the bands that held his thong in place. "I'm sorry, Marc," I breathed as I began to lower the only thing covering him. I kept my eyes on his eyes. Fear flooded his expression. I guess at some level I understood this was inevitable. I mean I knew they wanted to see man-boy sex, but suddenly the reality of it was undeniable - for him as well. His covering fell down his legs, and I knew - and he knew - he was totally naked. "I'm sorry," I said. It was a struggle for me to get those words out, and I could almost feel the disapproval of our watchers. Now his look changed. He stiffened, and I knew they were shifting their focus from me to him. He almost jerked like he was spastic as they began to control him.
He took my wrists in his hands and urged me upward, then he pushed me back on the bed. Then, with my head resting against the pillows, he climbed up on top of me, straddling my chest, so close that I could almost feel the heat of his little tool. All this time, I'd kept my eyes locked on his eyes. Now he smiled. It was the most forced, self-conscious smile I'd ever seen from him - proof, if any more were required, that they were manipulating him.
Now I felt my hand drifting in on his pert, firm melons. I'd lost some of the lube as I removed his thong, but there was still plenty lodged in his crack. I dipped my finger into the gel, then moved in to explore the deep, secret canyon between his two glorious boy-globes. I felt his buns tense, then relax, willing an easier exploration by my fingers. I pressed deeper and he actually sighed. Now he shifted, moving his penis closer to my mouth. I wondered if he really even understood why he was aligning himself that way. I could feel a desire growing within me, and I realized they were exerting their influence once again on me. I wondered how long I could resist...but even more troubling was another thought - this one all mine: did I even want to resist?
"Marc," I breathed, "what would you like me to do?"
"I...I..." A look of confusion filled his sweet face. I smiled. He didn't know, he truly didn't.
"It's okay, Marc," I said. "Don't worry."
It was as if our watchers didn't appreciate my digression, for now, I felt a pressure building in my balls, and I felt a need to press my digit against his asshole. I tried resisting briefly, but my balls ached with a burning tightness. The truth is, I resisted only to test my theory that our watchers were more involved and more demanding that we may have realized. On one level I resented the hell out of them for using us. But I knew it was also true that I was discovering some deep sense...deep inside me...that I felt drawn to this young male body. It was exciting me. Now as I contemplated taking him into to my mouth, I wondered just how far along he was in puberty. Did he masturbate? Could he ejaculate? Had he?
"Marc," I said. I looked up past his belly, and his heaving chest, past his taut neck, and his perfect chin to his eyes. He looked down. "Can you cum?"
"Come?" he said, clearly not understanding.
"Does your body make semen - sperm?"
He blushed. "I...I...don't know. I don't think so." Everything I asked him seemed to feel like a test, and somehow I had the sense he felt that he was failing.
"It's alright, Marc, don't worry. Just relax, honey." Now I was surprised. I'm not sure where that little endearment had come from. Somehow I just wanted him to know I was pleased with him. I smiled and kind of shrugged, as if to say I was as surprised by that as he was. He sort of smiled back. "Do you know about masturbation, you know...jackin' off, or whatever?"
"Yeah," he said, still red in his cheeks. "Kids talk about stuff, an' I hear 'em."
"But you've never tried it?"
He trembled as I waited for his answer. "No," he said finally, once again with a tone that suggested he felt he wasn't measuring up.
"Marc," I said. "I know keep saying this, but you have to believe me: It's okay. You're only twelve years old. You start doing this stuff when you're ready...I don't think I messed around until I was fourteen." I grinned, and he grinned back...seeming at least a little more at ease.
Now the pressure within me to press into his pucker was stronger than ever. I breathed in a long slow breath and let it out. I would not resist any longer. "Marc, we're going to do it now. We're going to have sex." The boy swallowed hard. He shook with what seemed to be a combination of fear and longing. "Don't be afraid...no matter what happens. Remember, sex is about making your partner feel good. So that's what going to happen. Your body is going to feel very, very good - especially...down there...and whatever you're feeling is okay." He licked his lips, and I could see he was ready.
Now I let my finger press in on his tight asshole. I felt it contract, trying to keep the intruder out. I let it rest there, gently pressing in the tiniest of circles. He gasped, and stiffened all over. We really hadn't begun and I had the impression he was ready to cum right then. Now, slowly, I dropped my eyes, down past his exquisite body, past his heaving chest to his firm belly, to his package. As my eyes had left his, I sensed a movement, and now I could see he'd covered himself. I'd forgotten he was basically a shy, decent boy, not unlike myself at his age, and without a full understanding of what was happening to his body, he was reacting only naturally by trying to hide himself.
Suddenly he winced, and I knew they were punishing him. I quickly reached out and lifted his hand away. I gasped. "Oh, Marc, honey, you're...beautiful." He was like a living Greek statue. I glanced up and smiled at him, and he seemed to relax a bit. I could tell the pain had left him. "You're big for a boy your age," I said. And he was. He was at least three and a half inches, maybe even four inches, and I'm not sure if he was quite yet fully hard. He was circumcised with a perfectly shaped helmet and a firm, pronounced rim running its circumference. His piss slit oozed just a hint of moisture. If it was precum, then perhaps he would ejaculate with his orgasm. We'd see soon enough. His penis was firm and straight, with no bends in any direction. It pointed straight out at me and pulsed with the each beat of his heart. He was sporting just a hint of hair, a thin patch certainly less than a half inch long and soft and straight. It was as blond as the hair on his head, which made it difficult to see, though not from my "up close and personal" vantage point.
His balls were maybe the size of large marbles. His sac was completely hairless and surprisingly smooth, though a darker red color. His balls hung perhaps an inch and a half from his body, though it was hard to tell with that metallic band around him. With my free hand, I began lightly stroking his inner thighs, each time coming closer to his treasure hanging between his legs. After a few minutes of awakening him to the sensitivity of his thighs, I drifted up one more time. This time I let the backs of my fingers drift under his balls. He shook almost violently and sucked in a massive breath. "Ahhhhhh!" he cried out. The next pass, I rotated my hand and actually grasped his firm little eggs and fondled them. "Ohh...ohh...ohh...ohh," he moaned softly. I smiled, remembering my own first foray into my sexual awareness. "Hair trigger" was a term invented for young pubescent boys. My touches were driving Marc wild.
I felt his tight little pucker relax some, and I took the opportunity to press in past his anal ring. He again stiffened, and actually arched his back, bucking his hips. I had lodged my finger up to the first knuckle. I wiggled it just the slightest bit, and he literally squealed. "Iiieeee!"
Now his little boner was pointing up to the ceiling. It gave me an opportunity to lean in and taste his little rod with the quickest of licks up the length of its underside. He groaned now and clamped both his hands on my head. He was ready for more. I released his balls, and reached up and gently grasped his tool. More groans. I was sure this was the first time it had been touched by anyone other than himself and possibly his parents or doctor. "
"Mmmmm," I hummed, so close to him he could probably feel my hot breath. He was so velvety smooth - and small, at least in his thickness. He was about the diameter of a "Sharpie" marking pen, and just about as hard! At my first touch, he more or less automatically pulled away. Immediately he gasped, and I thought the watchers had again issued a mild punishment, but then, I realized his action of pulling away, caused him to take my finger deeper inside him. No doubt my swollen knuckle had caused a bit of friction on his tight ring, because he actually seemed to whimper slightly. "It's okay, honey," I whispered. "We're just getting ready for sex, that's all. Just try to relax." I pressed my finger a bit deeper into him and I watched as his whole body stiffened.
Now I gently bent his little rod down a bit to align it with my mouth. I extended my tongue and gave his head a little lick. It was the first cock I'd ever sucked, and as I let my mouth settle down over his glans, I was struck by how soft and warm it was. I say soft, perhaps smooth is a better description, because it was certainly firm and hard. At my touch, it had flexed almost violently, and he shuddered so it seemed like he was having a seizure. I traced the rim of his head with the tip of my tongue. "OH!" he screamed, flinging his head back and actually contracting his torso.
I sucked all of him into me, pulling him through the tight seal of my lips. He began panting like a little puppy who's playing too hard. My tongue gloried in the texture of his little rod. I pulled back, and repeated my attack on his glans. His whole body shook. "Oh," he burbled, trying to catch his breath. His anus winked open now, and I shoved deeper into him, stretching him even more as my second knuckle assaulted his tight rim. If I hadn't had a mouthful of boy-cock, I'd have grinned, to see such pure evidence of the connection between a boy's ass and his dick. It should be some law of physics: an action at either end has an equal and complementary action at the opposite end, for it was certainly true with little Marc. (Not so little, truthfully, for each time I'd suck down on him, he'd poke the back of my throat!)
He gripped my head tightly, and his fingers played with my hair, and my ears. Whether he knew it or not, he was adding to my excitement. Truthfully, it was driving me wild, and the result was I was doing him with ever greater "commitment". I began bobbing back and forth now, and with thrust, I could feel him stiffening all over.
Once I felt something bump into my cheek. It was one of those damn floaters. Somewhere the watchers were getting an eyeful. Damn them. I glanced around, and the other one was hovering at the boy's ass.
Marc's legs, bent at the knees, squeezed my sides, His shins draped over my thighs, and the sides of his feet pressed in on my manhood. Every time he shudders, his feet would vibrate on my tool and balls. I was sure he was oblivious to this. Hell, at this point, with his head rolling back and forth, he seemed completely oblivious to everything but what I was doing to him. I pressed deeper into his asshole. I was in all the way. He was so hot and tight, and each time I sucked him down, his chute seemed to tighten on my finger. I lifted my free hand now from his balls, which had been drawn up tight to his body (at least as tight as they could with that band around them), to his nipples. I started working them again. I pulled back with my mouth and around his head. "Ahhhrrggghhhh," he groaned. Now, completely on his own - or perhaps with "help" from the watchers - he thrust his hips back into me. I hadn't been quite prepared for that, and my finger pulled of his asshole almost out to the tip. My upper lip felt the soft, smooth pubes nestled above the root of his cock. It added to my own building state. Now his hips jerked back. He was actually beginning to hump my mouth, the little slut! And when he did that, he drove my finger back into his ass.
I was ready for him now, and between my actions, and his thrusting, both ends were getting wildly stimulated. I now twisted my finger slightly, when it was deep inside him, and pressed on a small, firm organ. I knew what it was, and I knew how I reacted the few times that a partner ventured to play at my backdoor. The poor little boy didn't have a chance. He reared up like a stallion, his whole body wracked with a massive jolt of sexual electricity. "Ohhhh!" he cried out. "Ohhh!" And I mean cried. If I could have seen his face, I think tears might have been spilling from his eyes. He sounded positively wild with sexual abandon.
He jerked back one more time, the corona of his sweet head caught against my lips. I ran my tongue over his tiny slit, and suddenly I registered something different - a little syrupy sweetness. I smiled despite the poker I held between my lips. The little prick had just given me a taste of his virginal precum.
He was so close, and he seemed to understand that something different was about to occur. He started bucking into me frantically. I tried to keep some sort of rhythm with his wild thrusts, diddling his tiny prostate each time. With each thrust, his grunting grew louder, as if each time he were expending some impossible amount of energy (hell, he probably was!) "What's happening," he managed to cry.
"Mmmmmm," I hummed, hoping to let him know, without releasing him from my mouth, that everything was exactly as it should be; it was perfect, in fact. His body seemed to be in a kind of massive seizure, with waves of energy coursing through his young, virginal body. Finally, with one last desperate, he plunged deep into me, and held. With my tongue against the underside of his cock, I felt his urethra swell, and I knew it was beginning. His hands squeezed my head until I thought it would shatter. I pulled back off his cock, so only his head was nestled in my tongue, and my finger pressed in on his prostate one more time. And then a massive tremor hit, and miracle of miracles, I felt a tiny droplet of sweet boy-cum! With his contraction, his asshole pumped my finger out of itself. His body contracted violently again, and another watery splash shot from his exploding tool, and then another, and then a smaller contraction, and I knew it was ending. I felt no more bolts of the virgin cum. I swirled my tongue around his head, hoping to coax a bit more, but he moaned, "Noo..." and I remembered how ultra-sensitive my head could be after my teenaged orgasms.
Now he seemed to collapse, and with my hands, I grabbed his torso, and let him settle down on top of me. He was completely limp. I felt his hot, shallow breaths on my chest. With each gentle expulsion of air, I heard a little whimpered "Oh", but soon even these faded to become simply the breathing of a little boy asleep. I felt his little poker jabbing my own rock-hard manhood; I felt it rapidly softening. I wiped my soiled finger on the covering of the bed, and gently caressed his back and sides and legs and, oh God, that sweet, delicious butt. My other hand held his head gently against my chest. I sighed deeply, and he shifted slightly, trying to nestle even more into my longing body.
Those damn floaters hovered just above his body, apparently examining every inch of it. Hell, at one time, one of them even settled down between his legs. It pressed in and he slowly shifting, lifting and spreading his legs - opening himself as the thing must have come within an inch of his beautiful little genitals. I ignored them. I had other things on my mind. I was conflicted. I had all these thoughts that I didn't want to have, for I knew there were my own thoughts, and they made me a pervert. I realized in that moment that I loved that boy as I had never loved anyone else. I understood that at some point in our love-making, the watchers had stopped their manipulations, and it had all been me working that beautiful, smooth, warm, sweet body. Even now, I luxuriated in the feel of his skin under my hands.
Oh God, what was I going to do? Well, I thought, at least it's over.
Oh how wrong I was.
We had no way of tracking time. I have no idea how long we lay there in each other's arms, but finally, he stirred. He stretched like a cat might. His arms poked up past my head, his feet reaching down almost to mine. "Rise and shine," I said gently.
"Yeah," he mumbled and sighed about the biggest sigh I'd ever heard. He was utterly contented. He shifted slightly, but made no attempt to get up.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Mmmm," he said, and he sort of giggled once. I guessed that that said it all.
"Greg," he said finally. "was...that...um...you know...sex?"
Now it was my turn to chuckle. I stroked his relaxed little hiney. "If it wasn't, then I don't know what sex is!" He snuffed a soft little laugh, too. "Marc, I'm...I'm sorry, that had to happen. You're so young...and...they...were...making us...and...well...I'm sorry."
He reached up and his hand found my face. His fingers drifted down to my lips, then back up to feel that soft place behind my ear. "It's...okay, Greg. It..." He never finished what he had on his mind.
After a moment he spoke again. "Is it like that all the time? Sex?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
I smiled. "I guess. Although you orgasm was pretty unbelievable."
My smile grew. "At the end...the big explosion."
"I didn't know what was going to happen," Marc confessed. "I thought I was gonna' die."
I cuddled with him. "Remember I told you not to worry about what you were feeling?" I patted his butt.
"Yeah. But I didn't...think..."
"You know, you came?"
"You ejaculated. You shot your sperm."
"Yeah...that means you're well into puberty. And you have hair down there. All signs that you're becoming a man."
"Uh-huh...you. It's pretty awesome."
"Yeah," he said.
"Does it cum every time?"
"Well, I'm no expert, but if I remember the way it was with me, once I started, then I always did...but the more often you do it, the less that cums each time."
"Who did you do it with?"
"Yeah, who did you have sex with to make you orgasm?"
Suddenly I felt a wave of guilt spread over me. I realized just how twisted this was. "Marc, honey," I reached down and lifted his head so we were looking at each other. "You don't have be with another person to have an orgasm." I smiled. His innocence was so cute and endearing. "You can do it by yourself."
"You can?" he asked, his big, blue eyes wide with a sudden hunger. "How?"
"Well..." His directness was mildly embarrassing to me, for some reason, and I felt my cheeks reddening. I suppose I felt there might be a hundred places a boy could get this information. I just never figured I be the place for this one boy. "That's what masturbation is all about."
"That's what you said before. It's like jerkin' off?"
"How do you do it?"
Okay, I thought, do I show him here and now, or do I simply explain it? "It's basically, just rubbing your penis."
He was silent for a moment, then a look of almost guilty pleasure spread across that cherubic face. "Greg," he whispered, "can you show me?" I wondered if that was the result of our watcher's urging. "Please," he said softly, his eyes full of longing.
"Sure," I said finally. I hitched myself more or less into a sitting position up against the pillows. I patted my belly and he shifted around sitting with his sweet butt on my pubic bone. He folded his legs up so that his feet rested just on the outer parts of my thighs. Then he leaned back, his firm strong back against my chest. His head rested just beside my neck. The transformation in the boy was remarkable. Self-conscious, shy, and uncertain before, now he seemed totally relaxed with his nakedness.
He twisted around so we could see each other's eyes. "Will it be like before? My orgasm?"
"Well...it well be different in some ways, the same in other ways." I reached down between his legs. As we'd talked, his little tool had started to strengthen. When I touched it - taking it between my thumb and two fingers - he sucked in a breath.
"It feels so...weird when you touch it - like there's electricity in it."
"I think that's just because we're not used to having other people touch us there. After all, most of the time, it's covered up." As I stroked it gently and held it, his tool grew stronger in my hand.
"It's getting harder."
"I know," I said, "I can feel it. Do you get hard a lot?"
"I didn't used to...but kind of lately...when I wake up...and lot's of times at school. Why's it do that?"
"I'm not sure anyone knows for sure. I think it's because when you're beginning to grow into manhood, your body releases chemicals that make your body change. And sometimes I think your body's just not sure what it's supposed to do when all these chemicals start pouring out. The older you get, the less often it happens."
He looked up at me. "You don't get hard?"
I smiled. His innocence was one of the things I loved most about him. "Oh, I get hard-ons. Erections, is the correct term for that. But not so much now when I'm not expecting it. Not like when I was your age. I'd stand up in class to do a report, and, bam, I'd pop a boner!"
He giggled when I said that. "Me, too. I hate it 'cuz everyone can see. I'm afraid they'll think I'm a perv or something."
I smiled. "Well, then every boy in the world is a perv...because it happens to all of us when we're in puberty. And you know what?" He looked expectant. "I bet no one really has a clue what's going on inside your pants."
He sighed and smiled and seemed to nestle back against me even more. By now he was his full four inches. I began to stroke him gently, and he began breathing in the tell-tale shallow, rapid breaths. With my other hand, I reached under his butt, and began to fondle his little balls. He seemed totally focused on what was happening to him. This time, I figured, he knew a least a little what to expect.
As I worked him, my own cock began to throb to life. He shifted, pressing his butt a little lower and I felt his two cheeks nestling on the root of my tool. He snickered. "What's up, champ?" I asked, having a pretty good idea already.
"You're getting hard, too?" He twisted back up and looked at me. I blushed.
"I guess I am," I said. "Sometimes, like we were saying, there's not a lot you can do about it...especially if you're doing sexy stuff. That almost guarantees a hard-on." I began masturbating him in earnest now: slow, long strokes...short, quick ones.
"I...I can...feel it...happening," the twelve-year-old exclaimed. "It's coming!"
I smiled, feeling myself growing excited as well. "Good," I murmured. "Do you want to try it yourself?"
He looked up at me with a flash of concern. "Should I?"
"Try it...just so you know what it feels like." His hand replaced mine, and I watched as he began his first halting strokes, pleasuring his body. I drew my hand up to toy with his beautiful little nipples, and his rippling belly. He sighed, as my hands ran across his smooth, hard body. He was without a blemish, and I felt an urge to tongue every inch of him. I leaned down and kissed his head, then nibbled on his ear. "Ahhh," he gasped. "It's happening, Greg." His body stiffened, and his hand was a blur. Now he thrust his hips upward, and he grunted. A single shot of thin, cloudy boy-cum spurted up and drooled down onto his fingers, a second and third expulsion more or less oozed out over his head and down over his thumb. He stopped abruptly, and groaned again as he lowered his ass back down onto my manhood.
He was silent for a long time, though I'm not sure he was asleep. A smile spread across his face. I think he was proud of getting himself off. Every once in a while, his butt cheeks would sort of clamp down on my cock. It kept me hard. Finally he stirred.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he replied.
"You did good. Did it feel good?"
"Yeah. Did you see your cum?"
I ran my finger over his belly and wiped up the little puddle. I lifted my finger to his face. He looked at it carefully. Then he sniffed. "It smells."
"A little," I said.
He looked a moment longer, then swiveled his head up to look at me. "I shot in your mouth!"
I grinned. "Yes."
"Did you spit it out?"
"No!" I said, "I swallowed it."
"No, Marc, it's fine. I liked the taste of your cum. Want to try it?"
He looked at the glistening fluid on my finger. Slowly he extended his tongue and tasted it. Then he slurped the whole tip of my finger into his mouth. "It doesn't have much of a taste," he announced.
"No, I guess not."
"Does yours taste like that?"
"Umm, I don't really know. I've never tasted it."
"Oh," the boy said simply. He shrugged.
"Maybe," I said, "now that we've done what they want we'll be able to leave."
"Yeah," Marc said, "Now that we've had sex." He blushed sweetly.
"Yeah," I answered. I put my arm around him and with my other hand, slowly caressed his body. "We'll have to wait and see what happens."
Almost immediately, I felt him stiffen. He almost whimpered, and I felt his butt squeeze my penis again. "Greg," he said with a trembling voice, "I think they want something else."
"Okay, Marc," I said. In our experience just past, it was usually a simultaneous manipulation; that is, we sort of felt the same urges, but this time, it was only Marc who seemed to be under their control. Suddenly he raised up and scooted down between my legs. He looked frightened. "It's going to be okay, Marc. We know what they want. I can do it to you again. It will be okay." I spoke gently, trying to reassure him.
"No." He shook his head. "That's not what they want..." His eyes left mine and lowered down to my package. He breathed rapid, desperate breaths. His hands started to move out to the thong that still covered me.
My eyes widened. "No, Marc, you don't have to..."
"I do, Greg," he said. "I...I have to." As if his arms belonged to someone else, they jerked out and his small, delicate hands grasped onto the bands that held my thong in place.
"No!" I cried out. "Don't make him do this!" I looked from floater to floater. "You bastards. He's just a boy!" Suddenly Marc cried out in pain, and clutched at his balls. But this time, I felt nothing in my testicles. Only Marc seemed affected. "Okay....okay," I screamed. "Stop it!" I pleaded. "You're hurting him!"
The pain seemed to stop as quickly as it had begun. He panted, trying to regain his breath. I looked at Marc. He looked like a frightened little boy. "I'm sorry," I whispered. Now I felt his fingers scraping down the sides of my body, pulling the covering away from my genitals. I kept my eyes on his eyes. As my hard cock sprang free, his eyes widened. Quickly he shifted position and yanked the covering down my legs and off me the rest of the way. I was now as naked as he was. He settled back down between my legs.
"It's so big," he said. He actually licked his lips and swallowed hard. I closed my eyes for a moment. Oh God, I was so sorry for what I knew was going to happen. He's just a boy, I thought, just a little boy. I looked back up at his face. It was filled with fear, and yet, he also looked like he was trying to work something out, trying to screw up his courage, trying to figure out how to do what he knew he had to do. He looked into my eyes, beseeching me, looking for some word from me.
"Marc," I began, "Just go slow..."
"I don't think I can do it."
"Just masturbate me."
"That's not what they want." A tear started to roll down his cheek. I reached out and pulled him to me.
"Then just lick it at first, just like when we were kissing. Remember? Just let your tongue explore," I whispered softly in his ear. "I think they just want to see our orgasms. So...lick my head, try to remember what I did. If you can suck it good, that'll make me cum pretty fast." I smiled at him, trying to reassure him.
"But you had all of me inside you."
"You don't have to do that. If you try to take too much of me, you'll gag, so just focus on the glans...that's the top part of my penis. I know you'll do a fantastic job, and I don't think I'll be too long in getting there. And I make a lot of cum, so be ready to pull off. You don't need to swallow it. Okay?"
"Yeah," Marc answered, but I could tell he was still worried by my size. I wasn't huge - about seven inches and thankfully I wasn't too thick maybe an inch and a half across. If the boy was careful, he could do what he had to - as long as that was all they had in mind. I didn't want to think about anything else. Now he stiffened again, and shuddered, and reached out and fondled my balls. He looked up at me, and he looked mortified. It was like he didn't even understand why he was doing what he was doing.
"Ohh, Marc," I moaned. "You're fingers are driving me wild!" He looked up and I saw the hint of a smile. I nodded. "You'll do just fine." He studied my penis as if it were some delightful confection that he was about to consume. He lifted his hand to my cock and grasped it. It was the first time he'd touched it (I suspect it was the first time he'd ever touched anyone else's genitals), and his fingers fluttered over the taut skin. His grasp tightened and he bent my penis so he could inspect it from all angles. "Easy, there, champ," I murmured. "You don't want to break it off." I grinned.
He reddened, as if he'd done something wrong, but finally he, too, smiled self-consciously. He trembled and looked liked he'd been asked to do something impossible. I could see the battle going on inside him: his uncertainty, their command. His eyes were getting glassy with tears that threatened to spill over. I reached down and rubbed his back. "Honey," I whispered, "just little steps. You'll be fine..." I looked into his eyes. "And I really don't taste that bad," I added teasingly. I gently poked him in the ribs, and he relaxed a bit.
Ever so slowly, he lowered his head closer. He extended his sharp, little tongue. He lowered his head more, more, more, and I felt his wet probe make contact on the underside of my head. I shuddered. It was like a tiny bolt of cold electricity. He flicked his tongue back, hesitated, then extended it again. This time he let his tongue curl around me a bit, tasting more of me. I don't ever remember feeling like this. I'd have a few girlfriends who were willing to go down on me, but somehow this novice boy was sparking sensations they could not. "Oh, Marc-y," I groaned.
He lifted off. "What?" It was the voice of a hesitant, little boy, unsure of what was happening.
I reached out and caressed his head, his ears especially. "What you're doing feels incredible," I whispered.
He smiled and lowered his head again. This time I felt for just an instant, I felt the lightest hint of his hot breath on my glans, then I heard him sigh, and then his two lips planted the briefest of kisses on my head. Again he was rewarded with a groan from me. That seemed to encourage him, for he now shifted position, and lapped at me like he would do a popsicle. Then he kissed me again, and a massive shudder spread out from my cock. He must have felt it, too, because he sort of snorted a soft giggle, and he broke away. "You liked that, huh?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh God, Marc, I like everything you're doing."
He smiled and went down on me again, planting another kiss and this time opening his mouth and extending his tongue. His breathing was filled with little nervous shakes, but, perhaps driven by the watchers, he continued to explore. I felt his tongue swipe across my piss slit, and he broke again. "I can taste your precum," he announced, as if he were offering the whispered analysis of a golf commentator. And then, he was back, making contact. Again I could feel the struggle raging inside him, but slowly, he either gained confidence or the watchers wore down his resistance, because his kisses which fluttered around my head, eventually settled into one long lips-to-cock head caress. And then, after another hot breath through his nose, I felt his wet lips part. Another shudder passed through his small body, and I knew what he was going to do. "You're doin' great," I encouraged. "It's awesome."
I felt his lips change, and I realized he was smiling. At the same time, he opened his mouth some more, and as he did so, I moved deeper into his hot, little mouth. Oh, God, either the watchers were directing him masterfully, or he was a natural-born cocksucker because he began making a gentle suction as his lips slid down and around my head. When his lips slipped over the corona, I thought I was going to cum right then. "Ahhhhggghhh," I groaned and I knew he had felt my glans swell even bigger. My whole body stiffened. I held his head, forcing him to stay still for a moment. My heart pounded. It was like my entire existence was centered in that part of me Marc now held in his mouth. "Oh Marc," I breathed. "That is the most awesome feeling." I stroked his smooth back and ass. He wiggled gently under my touch. "What you're doing is great," I told him.
Then even as I was expressing my contentment, I sensed a new desire growing in me. "No," I breathed.
Marc lifted off me. "What?"
"I said, 'No'. To...them, I mean." The boy looked worried. And then both of us felt a bolt of pain shoot through our balls.
"What is it, Greg?" he asked with a growing worry. I just shook my head. Then a wave of understanding spread across his face. "They want me to take all of you."
"It's not fair," I whispered to him," and with effort, I rolled away, but instantly, a vicious gut-wrenching pain burned into me. I grunted a series of swallowed sobs, but my boy screamed out in agony, and finally, "Tell them I'll do it," he cried. "I'll do it." And again, the pain quickly subsided.
I grabbed him and pulled him to me, burying my face against his ear. "I'll kill those fuckers if I can get my hands on them," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, Marc."
"It's okay," he murmured. "Let's just do it, Greg."
"I'll try not to go all the way," I whispered, "but I'm not sure I'll be able to control that. You'll need to try to make your mouth and throat sort of line up - tip your head back...and it's going to feel like you're going to gag...When you feel my cock pushing down, try to sort of "swallow" it, and when I pull back, that's when you breathe." I gazed down at him, suddenly looking so vulnerable. "I'm so sorry." I rested my hand against his cheek and wiped away his tears. "I'll be as gentle as possible."
"I know," he whispered back. He shifted back, crouching, getting himself in position. I rose up and knelt in front of him. He took a breath and settled back down, sucking me into his mouth. His tongue swirled around my head. "Ohhhh, Marc, honey," I breathed. "What you're doing is so awesome." On my penis, I felt a snort of hot breath from his nose, then I felt him tremble. Then the watchers were back at it. I shuddered, and my hips thrust forward. I tried to hold back, but my cock slid in probably another inch or so.
Marc sucked down harder. A wave of energy shot through me. His tongue seemed to caress the entire length of my cock within his hot, wet mouth. I knew the next thrust would take me to the back of his throat. I felt an urge building in me to do just that. I tried to resist. Suddenly my hands were grabbing onto his head, and my hips bucked, driving my cock in deeper. I felt the soft wall of his throat, and then he made a small chocking sound, and he pulled back. I looked down at him and his eyes were watering. "I'm so sorry," I mumbled. His eyes told me he understood. He sucked hard, making an incredible vacuum around my tool. I felt his hands on my hips, and, with his head tilted back, he pulled me back into him. I felt him swallow and with no resistance remaining, I pushed into him. Again he gagged and pulled off me.
He panted now, and I stroked his hair, hoping to help him relax. Again my hips bucked, thrusting myself deeper than ever. He swallowed to pull me along. I was now about three quarters of the way in. I could feel his tight, small throat convulsing around my penis. His tongue snaked about my thick tube, and then he was pushing me off again. I was amazed. Somehow he seemed to be able to avoid the gagging reflect to some degree. Just in the few thrusts that I'd made into him, he'd seemed to prepare in some way to avoid the discomfort.
He was using his tongue to literally slurp around and over my cock. It felt incredible. Then I knew I had to press deep into once again. I pulled his head into me, and at the same time thrust my hips. I was in. I felt his lips against my pubes. His throat clamped down on my head. Oh man, this was incredible, Awesome. His throat was undulating in little waves sending shocks up and down the length of my penis. I could see his throat actually swell in his neck when my big cock filled him. Now I felt him spasm, and he desperately pushed me off. He gagged, but he seemed to quickly get that under control. I felt the compulsion building again, and I thrust deeply into him.
It was unbelievable to feel my cock sliding into that tight, wet tube. He swallowed, almost literally gulping me into him. Once I was in all the way, his throat contracted around my head, and then I pulled off. I heard him snuff in a breath through his nose, and his tongue swirled around my head, which he now held in his mouth.
I began a rhythmic series of thrusts, and I knew I was right about one thing: it wouldn't be long. I looked down at him. His mouth was stretched wide, his lips narrow and taut as they worked to form the tight seal around my tool. How could this little boy be such an incredible cocksucker?
It was mind-boggling. HE was mind-boggling, and as my penis rammed in an out of his hot mouth, I knew the building orgasm was going to be mind-boggling, too. Each time I thrust in or out, he'd work his tongue and the suction was mind-blowing - so to speak. But his throat was magical, the way it spasmed around my tool. With every thrust, he'd swallow, and every time I'd pull back, he'd gasp.
And then I was cuming, shot after shot, the first, slamming down his throat, the next filling his greedy little maw until it oozed out between his tight lips. When I'd finished, he released me, and I collapsed down on the bed. I lay there for a moment recovering, and then felt Marc snuggle up next to me. Some of my cum still hung at the corner of his mouth. I leaned in and licked him clean. "That was awesome, Marc," I whispered. He smiled shyly and his eyes sparkled. I hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around me. He shifted and I felt his hard little poker ramming into my side.
"Will you do me?" he asked hesitantly.
A wave of quilt passed through me. I wanted to pleasure him. I wanted to give back to him what he had given me, but I also had to remember that it was not us that was doing this. It was our watchers. And yet, was it? His request that I now weighed was coming from him...no one else. And my desire to please him was mine alone.
"Marc," I began, "This isn't right - sex between a man and a boy. It's them: they making us do these things. I'm sorry, I forced my penis down into you that way." I rubbed my hand up and down his soft, smooth skin of his back. My fingers drifted over each knob of his spine. "I'm so sorry, Marc."
"Stop it!" the boy cried. "Stop saying that!" He looked at me with eyes full of pain and anger.
"I...I don't understand," I said.
He reddened and looked away. When he looked back, a tear rolled down his cheek. "Didn't you like it?" he breathed through choked sobs.
I was stunned. He looked up at me with the eyes of a hurt little boy - a little boy who had tried so hard to please, and yet had failed. But he hadn't.
I hugged him again, tighter than ever. "Oh, honey," I moaned. "I'm..." I swallowed my words, for I did not want any misunderstanding. I began again: "I'm so glad we've been able to share each other in this way. I only said that because I thought it wasn't fair. You're just a boy, and too young to be doing these things. I was afraid I was hurting you. I worry about it afterward. I don't want you to feel bad about anything that we've done...because - after all - it was the watchers making us do those things...even though they felt so awesome." When I said that, he reddened all the way up to the tops of his ears. Hmmm, I thought. What was going on inside that beautiful head?
"Do you want me to suck your cock, honey?"
He nodded. "Please," he said softly. His cheeks reddened. "If you think it's...okay."
I smiled and lifted myself upward, propping my head on the pillows. I pulled him to me. He grasped my head, and eased his pulsing cock into my mouth. He sighed as it slipped in. He took my hand. "We need that slippery stuff," he muttered and held out my hand. Instantly I felt something being deposited on my palm. He'd gotten his wish. Even with a mouthful of boy-cock, I smiled. The twelve-year-old was hungry for some ass play. Okay, then, Marc.
He quickly began humping my mouth. While his firm, taut ass bobbed back and forth, I lowered my finger to his tight little chute. I wiggled a bit, felt him open, and it slipped right in. His sigh let me know he was enjoying the feeling of something inside him. I began sliding in and out of him, timing my actions to complement his own thrusts into my mouth. I raised my eyes, and he had his head thrust backward, as if he were staring at the ceiling. I sucked down hard, and felt his poker jump. He pulled back and my tongue laved him everywhere I could reach. With my free hand, I sought out his little boy-eggs. They were already pulled up tight to his body. I rubbed them gently, applying an easy pressure.
He moaned. I pressed in with my finger deep into his ass. "Greg," he huffed, "Can you put another one in?"
"Mmmmm," I hummed, and withdrew my one finger, keeping just the tip inserted. Now I snaked a second finger down along the first. When I first pressed in, he gasped. He stopped humping, directing all his concentration to his asshole. I felt him strain a bit, then open. I slid in to the first knuckle. He shuddered and sucked in a sharp, short breath and held it. I let his cock slip out of my mouth. "Try to relax down there, Marc...or...you know I don't have to put two inside you. One's really nice."
"No, two," he mumbled. "Keep doing it."
"Then try to open up a little," I said. I could feel him concentrating, and then I think he did loosen a little. I pressed in, and my two fingers slid inside deeper.
"Ohh," he said, the sound catching in the middle of a gasp.
When I got to the two big knuckles, I held still. I moved my fingers gently, to try to help him open. Perhaps it helped. I eased my fingers into him more, meeting strong resistance. "Ahhh, ahh, ahhh, ahhhhh," he panted, but I watched as he worked to open himself, and finally, I was able to force my knuckle past his tight rim. "Oh," he breathed. I held still.
"That's the worst of it, Marc," I said. "We'll just wait 'til you get used to it. He held still for another ten seconds or so, then he reached down and bent his wet, throbbing cock to align it with my mouth. I smiled. He drew the head across my lips, and I opened and took him in. Slowly he began fucking my mouth again. I trembled at how he gave his all to me. I felt as though I were fulfilling an obligation with him. He was beautiful and trusting and wanting. Though this was all so new to me, and I didn't completely understand, I needed to suck him off as much as he needed to be fellated.
Slowly, I sank my fingers deeper into his ass. He groaned, and I pulled out slowly...then back in. Now he began to hump me like a sex-starved maniac. Inevitably, my fingers started slipping in and out of him faster and deeper. With each movement in his ass, his cock seemed to stretch even more, throbbing madly. I knew he was stretched something awful, but my action at his back door seemed to be driving him wild.
I shoved in deeply and found his prostate. I'd intended to stimulate him maybe a half a dozen times, although I knew he was close. But I'd forgotten just how little control young boys have over their sexual responses. All it took was this one attack on that magic orb deep inside him, and he pressed hard into me and held. His penis swelled, and the tube underneath expanded. A small shot of boy-cum splashed onto my tongue, and he grunted as if he'd just expended the most effort ever in his young life. This was followed by another contraction of his body, and another deposit of his juice, truthfully, little more than a dribble. And then, with a quickly diminishing series of after-shocks, it was over. He panted, holding my head still.
Slowly, he pulled himself from my mouth and slumped down on top of me. Together we stretched out, my fingers still deep inside him. He lay panting, desperately trying to recover from his wild ride to sexual nirvana. His skin glistened, sweaty from all his prodigious efforts, and I could smell the faintest body odor. I leaned down to his armpit. Yeah, there was just a hint of muskiness there.
I carefully lifted myself so I could examine his hole, which still tightly held my two fingers. His two magnificent smooth, firm mounds of muscle trapped my hand and obscured the view. With my other hand, I gently spread his cheeks. I gazed down on a breath-taking sight. His rim was stretched around the intruders and was an angry red. It seemed looser now, and I gently withdrew my fingers. I'm not sure he slept, but he barely stirred as I slowly pulled my fingers from his hot chute. His asshole didn't snap shut the way I'd expected. Instead it seemed to close slowly, and not completely shut, at least not right away.
My hand was sullied with his waste, and I got up now and mumbled something about where's the damn sink, and suddenly, in the wall an opening appeared with exactly that. I washed my hands, and as I shook them off, another opening appeared with a facecloth and towel. These guys think of everything.
I took the facecloth, soaked it with warm water, and a little soap. I stepped to Marc's sleeping body, and gently spread his cheeks. I washed around his reddish pucker. He shifted slightly, and moaned softly. Except for the reddening, it was remarkably normal looking. I'm not sure what I expected, but with all the stretching, somehow I thought it would be more "traumatized."
I patted that secret spot dry, and slowly let those two rounded, soft mounds close in over it. I planted a kiss on one cheek, and he stirred again, momentarily tightening his butt, then letting it relax again.
I ran my hand up to that shallow valley just above his butt and savored his smoothness. His sides tapered in slightly hinting at the man's body he would soon be growing into. On his right shoulder blade there was a small, dark mole. Other than that, he was unblemished. I drank in his beauty. His arms, one tucked under him, the other bent over his head. His legs straight and handsome, joining magically to that incredible region of his butt. His legs were firm and smooth with just a hint of downy soft, pale hair. Even his spine was magnetic, drawing me, as I counting the little knobs that pointed straight and true North and South. I leaned in and ran my face within an inch, all up and down his body, breathing in his aura. He was a god.
I eased my hands under him, and with little effort, suggested a moment to which he, in his sleep, responded to, rolling over now revealing his front. He, at first, scrunched up and then stretched, straightening himself out, and finally relaxing again. He was utterly open and at ease. His little cock was for once truly in its flaccid state. It lay aimed toward his right hip and was only about an inch and a half in length. What a wondrous creation a penis is - hidden and diminished much of the time, but ready always to awaken and assert itself as the true essence of masculinity. Below it, his scrotum, smooth and reddish in color, and hairless, hung down, weighed by its contents, between his legs. His two testicles inside were just hinted at, though as he grew, they would, no doubt, swell to much larger size. The strange ring trapping his balls even seemed acceptable now - a piece of ornamentation that, if anything, accentuated his two small eggs.
Now he curled, drawing his foot up under his other knee and dipping his head down against his shoulder. One hand fell naturally against his genitals and the other he drew up to his left nipple. His mouth fell open slightly revealing his gleaming white teeth and moist, red tongue. I fought an impulse to lean in and suck that luscious, velvety thing into my mouth, my lips against his. Instead, I just gazed down at him in all his twelve-year-old innocence. He was exquisite in what - to my eye - was utter perfection. I wished I'd had a camera. How one could call an image of such beauty pornographic, I couldn't begin to fathom.
I must have stood there for fully an hour just watching him...learning him, the way a navigator might learn the terrain of an oft-repeated journey. Twice while he slept, his tool first rolled, then pulsed to remarkable stiffness. His hand nervously stroked his penis a few times, but then he'd sigh and after a time, the blood would leave his organ and it was wither. All the while, his chest rose and fell gently. When his mouth closed, I could see at times, the slightest flaring of his nostrils as he breathed. Occasionally, his tummy, flat and smooth, hinting of muscles soon to develop, would produce a soft gurgling sound, and once, a little fart escaped from his hole. Somehow even that seemed perfect for a young boy who task in life was meant to focus more on play than anything else.
After a time, I eased down beside him, and when he felt my presence, he shifted, aligning his body with mine. I lifted him, now, so his body lay on mine. I loved feeling his weight, feeling his breathing, feeling his smooth skin, feeling his heat, feeling his soft hands as they danced across my skin, feeling his beautiful bum against my public bone and hair. And I drifted off to oblivion.
"Hey." I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't seem to - or didn't want to. "Hey." The tone was more insistent. I felt warm lips brushing against mine, then settling, followed by a gentle suction, then a parting. "Sleepy head," the voice said. Squinting in the bright light, I beheld the silhouette of a young boy looking down at me.
"Hey," I said back. I ran my hand up and down his back, settling on his tight little ass. I smiled, and I heard him sigh.
"That's nice," he said, which made me smile once more. He lay down, mirroring as best he could his body to mine. The center point, he determined, was our genitals, both, as best as I could tell, quite flaccid. His legs flared out and folded down over mine. His arms he wrapped under mine and around my waist. He laid his head down on my chest. I drew one hand up and fondled his hair. The other hand fondled the inviting flesh of his bum. I felt his warm breath on my chest. "You like that don't you?" he breathed.
"Yeah," I whispered. There was no point denying it. When I could summon enough self-control to step away and consider our situation, I found it all so confounding. Until these last hours, I would have been the loudest advocate for slamming some perverted pedophile's ass in prison and throwing away the key. Now I was that pedophile. It was mind-boggling. I understood so much of what happened was the doing of neither one of us. But I also knew at some level, I found an odd kind of fulfillment in being with this boy in this way. And when I thought in those terms, my feelings were horrifying to me.
"You stink," the boy whispered.
"Me!" I replied. You're the one with stinky underarms - not me. He reddened and, though somewhat disbelieving, did a little sniff check, lifting his arm to reveal a hairless armpit. His wrinkled nose proved I was right.
"Well," he said with a playful smile and sparkling eyes, "you're sweaty, too."
"Maybe we should do something about it, then."
"But..." He was about to say there is no shower, but immediately a hum was heard and a door slid open revealing a spacious shower stall.
"Why don't you go first," I suggested.
He got up off the bed, stood, then paused. I could see some new idea just filled his head. He stretched out his arm. "Come with me," he said. Suddenly he was irresistible. I couldn't tell if it was my own desire or another instance of the watchers at work, but truthfully, I didn't care. I just wanted to be close to him, to make him happy, to feel his body next to mine, to give my body to him.
It was admittedly confusing. I could see a look of desire in his eyes. How could a 12-year-old, and an innocent, naive 12-year-old at that, suddenly awaken to such desire. It wasn't simply a matter of sex, at least not for me, and I don't think for him, either. It was, at times, just touching, knowing the other was "present". (Although I have to admit, with the slightest touch, he could become hard - if he wasn't already.)
To see that four inch penis, skin stretched taut and glistening, pulsing lightly with the blood that pumped through his veins was like seeing something transcendental - taking me out of myself, causing the two of us to meld somehow as one. I'd approached moments like this before in relationships, but never anything this intense, this sublime, this right. As strange as it is to say this about something as perverse as man-boy sex, I felt truly blessed. And I believe Marc, though he might not have said it the same way, was feeling the same thing.
Together we stepped into the shower. In the past, I'd toyed with the idea of showering with a partner, but somehow it always seemed contrived or even silly. Interestingly, the women I'd been with seemed to feel the same way. Now, within the enclosure, there was no hint of contrivance, and while we might have shared a sort of giddiness, neither of us felt anything close to silliness.
Within a moment of entering the enclosure, water sprayed from everywhere, not just strategically placed shower heads. The whole stall was a shower head. I took what appeared to be soap and lathered my hands. We looked into each other's eyes, and I knew he wanted me to cleanse him. So I did. Slowly and exquisitely. He was a symphony of sighs, punctuated by gentle smiles and fluttering eyelids.
My hands had permission to go everywhere, and they did, drawing the soapy film over his body. His face, and neck and arms and torso, and legs, and genitals, and butt. Even his small, perfect toes and fingers. He trembled as I worked, and his little poker stood pointing to 11 o'clock, throbbing as if it were trying to grow even bigger.
Drawing my fingers through his crevasse allowed me to feel that special heat that only nestling between two firm cheeks can afford. Now it was my time to sigh. He was a delight in every way.
I dipped my finger briefly inside him, and he grinned at me, obviously enjoying our contact. Now I turned him around so I could see his little pucker and he leaned against the wall, affording me every opportunity to have the access I desired. For all its earlier abuse, it was looking remarkably normal. It was smooth and tight and its previous pink color, the redness having faded. I truly don't know where the idea came from, but the next thing I know, as I was holding his firm, round cheeks apart, I found my self lowering my face to that hidden spot. With water cascading down on us like a waterfall, I closed my eyes and planted a light kiss on his sweet little bud. I felt it wink at me, and heard him moan softly at the same time. Now I seemed to fall out of my trance, and I gave him another, firmer kiss on his right cheek, gently slapped his butt and turned him around. I lathered up again and cleaned his tool that he thrust out in my direction. I then gently pulled down on his balls. There was little indication of a mature scrotum, with its walnut-shell mottling. His sac, in contrast, was smooth, though a darker, reddish color that the skin around it - another sign he was just in the early throes of puberty. Of course the warm water only added to his scrotum's relaxed state. His balls hung down a good inch and a half. Above, his cock pointed upward, and his taut stomach slowly expanding and contracting, showed the beginnings of a handsome six-pac. I lightly traced my finger up along the line where his leg joins his belly. He shivered wildly when I did that, and I heard him titter lightly, which made me smile.
I rose up and looked him in those incredible shining eyes. He was totally at ease, totally relaxed. It was sublime, and as if reading my mind, he leaned up and kissed me. We hugged, then he began working me as I had done him. Everything was virtually identical, though he did not spend the time with my ass that I had spent with his. When he finished, we again kissed, but then, not wanting the moment to end, we embraced. His head fit nicely under my chin, and we held each other tightly. His long legs brought his penis more or less in line with mine, and we savored the feel each other's erection gave to the other. After a moment, he seemed to pull away slightly as if he was thinking about something. Then moved away a bit more, reached down and gently bent my penis downward, and turned around. He wiggled his ass slightly until he'd sandwiched my cock between his two mounds. An image of a hot dog in a bun flashed through my mind, but the image had no place in such an exquisitely sensual moment. He lifted up on his tip toes to more fully engulf me. I heard him sigh as I pulled him closer to me, and felt him tremble. To feel his smooth, firm melons on my tool was indescribable, and yet at the same time, another thought flashed through my mind - one that was more troubling, because I realized how exciting it was. More troubling was the fact that I think Marc was thinking the same thing. I quickly forced it out of my mind, and leaned around and kissed him on his neck.
"Hey," I said, breaking the spell, since it was the first word either of had spoken since stepping into the enclosure. I deliberately pulled a little away from him. "I think we better get some food."
We stepped out and got some soft, plush towels and dried each other off.
The food was waiting for us. Strangely, neither of us spoke much, but we held each other in our eyes. It was without doubt, about the most sensual eating experience of my life. There we sat, naked, warm, and though I wanted desperately to deny it, in some strange, magical, powerful (and not altogether welcome) way, in love. Marc felt it, and I felt it. I know we did. Time seemed to lose itself as I gazed into those pools of sparkling blue water that were his eyes. He gazed back at me, and those wide, innocent eyes looked at me honestly and without any hint of shame or regret. As we ate, a small smile formed on his face. He liked the fact that I was staring at him.
I tried to convince myself that he simply was happy about getting to know his neighbor, a man who (I hoped) seemed pleasant and attractive, who'd give a kid the time of day, but truthfully, I knew what he was feeling was because together, we had awakened something within him that would forever change him. And he was glad, and he credited me with the reason for it. I smiled back at him, still knowing that guilt, once we were home again, could rear its ugly head, and make him feel bad about what was now feeling so good.
Now we were finished with the meal, and there was little else to do but recline on our bed, as we'd been doing for much of the time we were there.
As had become our style, I settled in first, with the boy snuggling in on top of me. This time he arranged himself so that his tight butt settled down with his full weight on my public bone, and immediately I began to stir.
I wanted it to be over. You may not believe me, but at one level, I was clear. Despite how good it had felt, maybe not in space, but on planet earth, this was wrong, and once we got back, it would stop. Inevitably, without the need to satisfy our watchers, this perversion would stop. That was what I told myself. That's what I tried to believe.
Marc sighed. I caressed his chest and belly.
"Greg, how much longer do you think they'll keep us here?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't even know how long we've been here," I answered.
I felt him stiffen. "You don't think they'll keep us? You know...forever, I mean."
I wrapped my hands around him. "No," I whispered. "I don't think they'd do that. I don't see why they'd want to. And don't forget the people on the radio. They didn't keep them."
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
We didn't talk then, for a while, and gradually, I felt him relax once more. I can't begin to tell you what it felt like having him lying on top of me. As he lay there, light as a feather, he reached down between his legs and found my cock. His merest touch got me throbbing to hardness. I heard him snicker once softly, evidently pleased at his ability to arouse me. As I grew harder, he shifted downward slightly and I felt him press my cock between his two cheeks, and then he grazed my tip over his hole. I instantly grew alarmed and reached down and held his wrist.
"Marc," I whispered.
"No," he murmured. "We have to."
"We can't," I said softly. "You're too...I'm too big."
"They want us to," the boy said quietly. "Then it will be done."
"It will hurt you."
Now he released my cock from his grasp and rolled over and looked up at me. "I know," he said, "but we have to." He trembled, and I could see the worry in his face. He reached up with his hand and lightly caressed my cheek. "I...I want to," he added. "I want to know what it..." he reddened as he must have only now realized what he was saying. "...what it feels like...to be fucked."
I trembled under his touch at the unknown just as he did. On the one hand, I couldn't imagine entering that small, tight, secret place. On the other hand, I felt an energy pumping through me at the thoughts of joining with him in this way. Was it them or was it me?
"How do we do it?" His halting question refocused me. He got up and stood next to the bed, waiting for instruction.
"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. I'd never thought much about anal sex, but logic would dictate predictable positions. "I guess you could just lay down on your stomach...or...on your hands and knees...or on your back, with your legs pulled back...or...I guess I could lay down on my back and you could sort of lower yourself down on me."
He blushed right up to the roots of his soft, beautiful hair. Slowly, he stood and drew me up off the bed. Then he lay back down on his back, and, bending his knees, he pulled his folded legs up and out, exposing all to my intense gaze. Immediately, the bed began to rise until he was at what I eventually realized was the optimum height and angle for my attack.
He was completely exposed. His rigid, skin-so-taut-it-glistened cock, his tight scrotum, pulling his growing balls close to his body, his perfect perineum, that tiny ridge of skin that would lead my explorations to his equally perfect pucker. It was smooth and uniformly shaped, tightly closed, though still slightly pink as a result of my recent fingerings. My gaze was riveted to it as if it were a black hole drawing all my energy. I trembled, fearing there was no way I could enter that tiny opening.
Stepping between his legs, I leaned down over him and kissed him. Then I lifted up and let my hands drift across his gentle sea of soft skin and the hints of spring meadows of his body hair. His eyes blinked from following my actions to my eyes. His breaths were shallow and his tongue flitted out to wet his lips. I could see his veins pulsing in his neck, keeping pace with his throbbing penis.
"Please, Greg, " he moaned. Trembles coursed through his small body - trembles of anticipation and, no doubt, fear.
I smiled gently and reached out and touched his cheek, letting my fingertips dance down along his smooth cheekbone. He smiled back. "Do it," he pleaded, and he lifted his butt, trying to bring that place in contact with my oozing cockhead.
I glanced to the side and one of the orbs was floating within my grasp. I reached out to it, and it dispensed a supply of gel. At the same time, Marc reached down and the floater deposited some gel on his fingers. As I began to lube his tight little hole, his arm crossed mine, and I felt his fingers slathering my tool, making every millimeter slick.
In my earlier explorations of his asshole, I really hadn't gotten a good look. Now all was laid bare. I breathed in a ragged breath.
He held my cock firmly but gently and drew me toward the opening that now tightly held two of my fingers. As I pushed and gently twisted, exploring his hot, juicy insides, I wondered again at what was about to happen. And even as I considered this, I felt the now familiar urgings.
"Okay, Marc," I whispered. His eyes widened, and he swallowed. I withdrew my fingers. Placing my hand over his, I guided my cockhead to his opening. "Try to relax, Marc...down there," I whispered. "It'll be easier."
He nodded. I eased my hips closer to his stretched legs and butt. The tip of my cock touched against his asshole. I felt the little pucker spasm slightly as if anticipating what was about to happen to it. He reached down and placed a hand on each of my hips. He gazed into my eyes, and a look of determination spread across his face. Slowly he drew my hips closer to him. I pushed forward. Whether through my inexperience or his tightness - or a combination of the two - I couldn't penetrate him. If possible, my cock throbbed to an even greater stiffness. I repositioned myself, and pressed in again. His eyes widened, and he drew in a breath and held it. I felt him clamp down on the tip of my cock. I couldn't have been more than a half inch inside him. His tight little pucker squeezed my head until I thought it would pinch it off. "Relax," I urged, though truthfully neither one of us knew what to expect. I knew it would hurt him terribly, though I hadn't expected to experience discomfort myself.
From somewhere inside me, I felt a compulsion to press in more, and I did, and the breath he had been holding tore from him as I slipped in another inch. I looked down and the rim of my glans was barely just visible. Now the boy panted like a woman in labor. I dropped my hand down to his hole and gently massaged all around, hoping somehow that might help him to stretch. The little rim of muscle had virtually disappeared, stretched to the breaking point. I glanced up and watched as tears formed in his eyes. He breathed in a shallow breath and held it and his hands pulled my hips toward him. I let his action insert my cock even further into his tight chute. I felt the rim of my glans move past his ring of traumatized muscle.
"That's the worst," I said, though I'm not sure why. He was still stretched unbelievably. "Let's wait," I offered, "'til you loosen up a little." Again, I wasn't sure he would - or could. He was almost unbearably tight on my tool. It was almost uncomfortable, though less so than when his pucker had been squeezing my cockhead.
I reached out and rubbed his tummy. Deep in my memory, an image of my mother rubbing my tummy once when I was sick drifted into my consciousness. He looked into my eyes and a hint of a smile formed on his tear-stained face. I felt his hole spasm once, then again, and eventually, after a minute or so, I felt his chute relax. He must have, too, for once again, he pulled me into him further - another inch or so. A wave of trembles passed through him, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in deeply and pulled me in more. Then he stopped, and looked down at himself.
"Greg," he asked with a look of concern, "why is I soft?"
He was right. His erect little penis had wilted. I wasn't sure what to tell him. I could only guess. "I think maybe it's because of the pain. Is it really bad?"
He bit his lip and nodded.
"I'm so sorry, Marc. But it will get better." At least I hoped it would. I felt his hot, juicy chute tighten then loosen around me and after a moment, he tightened again. It was exquisite. I'd never in all my life felt anything so tight around my entire cock - never, and each time that happened, I felt like I'd shoot immediately. Then I felt him loosen again, he sighed, and he pulled me deeper him to him. I was now halfway home.
He winced. "Are you all the way in?" he breathed.
"Almost," I lied. "There's a ways to go yet."
"I feel so...full," Marc said. He looked into my eyes, and just then my cock flexed, and he started, gasped and stiffened. "Greg, give me all of it. Now. Please."
I ran my tongue over my lips and nodded. "Okay, Marc," I mumbled. I slipped my hands under him and cupped his two silky buns. And I pressed into him, pushing firmly, but as slowly and gently as possible. He was panting again, then periodically holding his breath and seeming to press down. The action on my cock was out of this world. And then I was home. I look down. His asshole was obscured by my black, curly pubic hair. It covered his little balls, and his cocklet seemed to grow up out of the thick, dark patch. I shook for a moment, for suddenly in my imagination it seemed we were joined as Siamese twins.
His asshole, though I couldn't see it, seemed to somehow ripple over my member that was planted deep inside him. "I'm all the way in, honey," I mumbled.
He nodded and reached down and felt my hair pressed against his butt. A hint of a smile broke through the serious look on his face. He took a breath and, seemingly trying to muster all the courage he could, he said, "Fuck me, Greg, make love to me..." His eyes widened, and I think those words surprised him as much as they surprised me.
"Are you sure?" I murmured. "Are you ready?"
The young, vulnerable boy under me nodded. "Yeah," he breathed.
I held him tight. I pulled back until only my head remained inside him. His eyes widened, and then I pushed back in. He trembled as I shoved my full length into him in one incredible stroke. He whimpered, and then when I was again pressed up against him, he breathed out, moaning, though I wasn't sure whether it was from pain or ecstasy.
I glanced down at his boyhood. It was slowly rolling to the side, thickening. Then as I thrust into him, it began to spring to life. Almost like a balloon being pumped with air, it expanded until the skin was stretched taut. I grasped it, and began to stroke him. He grunted now, each time I pounded into him. His chute clamped tight onto me, and suddenly I lost all control, my hips bucking wildly in and out of him. He was whimpering now, and I'd never felt his cock so hard.
"Fuck me," he mumbled, though I wondered if he even realized what he was saying as his head snapped from side to side. His body was bucking along with mine, and he seemed to have lost every bit of self-control. And then I felt his cock swell impossibly larger, his asshole clamped tight around my cock, and he screamed as his whole body stiffened and he shuddered violently. That set me over the edge and I began shooting as hard as I ever remembered. His orgasm seemed to have passed, but as I continued humping his tight ass, he seemed suddenly to stiffen again. I didn't think it was possible, but the boy seemed to be having a second orgasm, right on top of the first. And then I was drained. I'd given him my all, as he had given me. I looked down at him, and he appeared unconscious, though a hint of a smile spread across his lips. It was more than I could bear, and I collapsed down on top of him, rolling sideways slightly, pulling him on top of me.
We awoke, we were in a different place. Our clothes had been returned to us. We looked at each other without speaking for what seemed like an eternity. "I think," I said finally, "maybe we're going home."
Marc nodded. He seemed subdued, almost sad.
The space lightened now, and inside my head I heard a voice.
"Thank you," it said in an odd, buzzing-tenor sound.
"Did you hear that?" Marc asked.
Then the disembodied voice spoke again: "You have given us much understanding and appreciation of your species." There was a pause. "We understand now the great value you place on your offspring." Another pause. "We want you to know one thing before you leave us. We have the ability to look deep inside your thoughts. After generations of examination of your species, we are able to recognize your inner-most desires even before you can. We only led you to do what both of you wanted. Go now, and return to your lives. You will only remember what you truly want to remember. And again, we thank you."
The light grew brighter, blinding, and a high-pitched scream seemed to cut through me, and when it faded, along with the light, we were back sitting in my truck. "Weird," I muttered and looked down at the kid. "I don't see anything wrong, maybe I should try it again." I turned the key. It started right up. The kid slammed the hood down, and climbed back in. In the dim light, he looked at me in a strange way. It was almost creepy - like he wanted...I don't know...like he was full of lust. It was weird, and I didn't like it.
"Hey," I said, breaking the "mood", "Let's get home."
"Yeah," he said with little enthusiasm.
We were there in no time. "Here we are, sport," I muttered.
"Yeah," he said, sounding subdued.
"You going to be alright alone?
"Yeah," he said, then he did something that scared the beejesus out of me. He stretched up and kissed me right on the lips.
"Hey, champ," I said, "I don't kiss on the first date." I chuckled, trying to make light of such bizarre behavior. I'd known this kid a little, seen him in his yard, but this was totally off-the-wall.
He slipped out of the truck, and disappeared into the house.
That little incident must have bothered me because around 4:30 that night I awoke from a bizarre dream. My neighbor kid was totally naked, and so was I, and we were making love. When I woke up, I realized I'd cum in my sleep, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd done that. Hell, I was like a damned teenager having a wet dream. I lay there recovering and feeling really guilty. What the hell was happening to me?
Three days passed. The dream kept returning. Once, in the afternoon, I pulled into my driveway, and the boy was playing in his yard. When he saw me, he started to run in my direction, looking as if he'd found a long-lost friend, but then stopped. "Hi," he said soberly, then turned and ran into the house.
That night, I was in the den, trying to focus on a ballgame, but memories of the damn dream kept intruding.
I looked up and at the slider was the boy. He stood forlornly on my deck. He wore only a pair of baggy shorts. My eyes traced down his body and I felt a wave of guilt and uncertainty flow through me. He was exactly as I'd seen him in my dream. His firm, taut body, muscular in a boyish sort of way, straight and proud, pure, smooth skin. The lowering sun behind him highlighted the soft, downy hair on his arms and legs.
"Hi," I said back.
"Uh...can I come in?"
I shrugged. "Okay." Truthfully, I didn't want him anywhere near me. I didn't know why I was having all those nasty thoughts, but just looking at him for these past seconds had started an unwelcome reaction in my body.
He came in and sat down next to me. Already this was getting uncomfortable.
"Marc," I said, "what's going on?"
Tears filled his eyes. "You don't remember, do you?"
"The other night - when you picked me up."
I was confused. What was to remember?
He saw my confusion. "They said you'd remember if you wanted to."
"Who? Remember what?"
He looked into my eyes, and reached out and put his hand on my pants. My cock throbbed under his touch.
"Marc!" I said sharply and shifted away from his soft hand.
"That, Greg. That's what's to remember. What you taught me...what I did to you...what you did to me...fucking me."
"Mar..." the boy's name choked me - that and what he was saying. "Maybe you better leave," I finally managed.
Tears spilled over his cheeks.
"I remember. Why don't you want to?" he asked in a frightened voice.
"Remember what?" I asked again.
"We were on a space ship...you taught me to make love. We thought they were making us...but...they said deep down we only did what we wanted to."
This was one sick little boy. Where, I wondered, did he get ideas like that?
"Maybe you better..."
"No, please. Don't tell me to leave." He stood up, and in one motion, pulled his shorts down. His small, erect cock stood up at attention, and suddenly I flashed to my dream...but wait. Something was different. I shifted uneasily. Something weird was happening. Now the boy scrambled up into my lap. His cock was just inches from my face. "Go on, Greg. Let yourself remember. Remember. Please. Remember." Slowly I raised my hands to grasp his firm ass. I heard him sigh. I trembled, as waves not of memory, but of urgings flowed into me. I eased him forward, and licked my lips. Slowly, his small, throbbing tool touched my lips. He moaned, and in a shattering moment, it all came flooding back to me. I sucked him hard into me. With one finger, I pressed into his hot pucker. He groaned, and after only a half-dozen thrusts of his tool in my mouth, he came with a hard boy orgasm. He collapsed down into my arms, and I held him tight.
"Oh God, Greg," he moaned. "I was so afraid you'd never remember."
"I do, honey. Now. I do remember. Everything." Still holding him, I stood up and moved in toward the bedroom. I pressed my finger tip against his prostate and he quivered. "I'll never forget. Not ever."
He sighed and snuggled his head into my neck.
"Hurry," he said.