Date: Fri, 19 Feb 1999 14:34:11 PST
From: DEBONAIR
Subject: RAZOR'S EDGE (m/b)

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This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only.  Do NOT read this if you are
under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state
or
country. Do NOT read this if you are easily offended or if you are not
interested in fantasies involving young boys. This file contains
sexually explicit material.

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Feel free to distribute this story or archive it at your favorite site
without altering its content.

English is not my mother's tongue, I apologize for the mistakes.

(man/boy)

"When I was a very small boy. Very small boys talked to me. Now that
we've grown up together. They're afraid of what they see. That's the
price that we all pay. When fighting destiny comes to nothing." - New
Order


RAZOR'S EDGE    by DEBONAIR

   When I broke up the three year relationship with my boyfriend, I
wanted to get away. The idea of going back to gay bars and boring
chats on the net didn't enchant me. Never once did the scene elicit an
ounce of joy in my naked heart. I was too old for it anyway.

   So at twenty-eight, I eagerly tackled a new life, starting over
again. Some kind of rebirth you might say. The ad in the paper read
'Sunny quiet apartment'. And I fell in love with the cozy place on the
second storey of a duplex in the east side of town. That part of the
city was seedy and poor. A sobering environment compared to the glitzy
hang-outs I frequented.

   The proprietor was a single mom with a nine-year-old son, who lived
on the ground level. Typical example of a feminist she was. Slightly
overweight and strong minded. She worked hard, barely eking by at each
month end, persuaded she didn't need a man to survive.

   She discovered I was gay early on. Not that my looks had anything
to do with it. I considered myself low-key. Short brown hair,
clean-shaven and dressed blandly. But being a psychologist, I often
submitted to interviews on the community channel about the subject of
homosexuality. Seemed she watched a lot of tv and warned me: "Stay,
away, from my son!"

   As months went by, the original tension between our adverse
personalities subsided. I brought her homemade desserts with the rent
cheque. Then gave her cooking lessons. Her skinny kid, which by the way
was named Scott, encouraged her strongly. Probably fed up with the
same old grilled cheese and cold cuts every day.

   While I cooked with the woman, I analyzed her mind. Force of habit.
Her stubborness enraged me. Many times she complained about males in
front of her child. "Men are all scum!" she would shout after
explaining yet another disastrous date. I humored her, making by best
impression of an effiminate faggot. "uh huh talk to me girl!"

   The scene always prompted a flurry of laughter from Scott. And the
high-pitched girlish giggles warmed my heart. He was awfully cute when
he smiled. I devoted suppertime to the task of making him laugh.
Something I was quite good at. His mom frowned when he shot soup
through his nose, bursting out in wholehearted glee.

   I avoided gazing at his handsome face. Didn't wanna scare the maternal
figure. He was the kind of kid you just wanted to squeeze in your arms.
Not a minute passed where I didn't restrain myself from nibbling on his
button nose or tossling his healthy brown hair. I silently wished he was
twenty years older. A pool of bubbling jealousy, towards the woman, boiled
deep in my stomach. She had what I couldn't even dream of. A child.

   The boy understood all there was to know about gays. You mature
pretty fast on the streets of the tough neighborhood. Nevertheless, his
mother always yearned to talk seriously about the risky topic, which
made me blush.

"You see darling, Clayton here is gay. This means he likes men," she
would go on with an inane tone of voice. I could tell the young demon
enjoyed the awkward situation. Seeing me squirm on my dinner chair. I
almost snapped. The words of my counter strike echoing in my head,
'Shut up, can't you see he knows more about this than you dumb bitch!'
But I remained poised and controlled.

   The little imp scratched his head, pretending to be innocent. "I
just have one question?" he peeped. "Does it hurt when a man puts his
penis in your butt?"

   We were aghast. I certainly didn't wanna answer the inquiry. Much
less his mother. Thus ended the delightful conversation.

   The welcome burden of babysitting Scott was offered to me. I was
astonished. For I never imagined the bossy woman would allow her precious
offspring to spend one minute alone with me. There were strict rules.
No baths, and no changing into pajamas until she came home. And so it
was. I watched rented movies quietly with the fully dressed boy.
Wondering if his crazed mother had locked a chastity belt under his
jeans.

   At first, Scott was uncomfortable around me. I'm sure his little
school friends were not kind to my kind. His protective momma's absence
left him with only the slurs and prejudice of street talk to hang on
to. You can never be too far from a fag when he's alone with ya.

   After a couple of evenings though. Scott realized I had no intention
of molesting him. He had the upper hand now. And he teased me every
chance he got. Rubbing his immature body against mine. Mooning me.
Taking a leak with the door open, knowing full well I would glance at
his small circumcized peter.

   Everytime his mother came to pick him up. I could hear her as they
descended down the stairs. "Did he touch your privates? Did he rub your
bum?" For all I knew, he was the pervert and I cussed under my breath.

   At the ripe old age of ten, she decided to put a key on a string around
his neck. He was a man now. He could take care of himself. My services as a
guardian weren't required anymore. As much as I relished the evenings with
the child. I was relieved. Scared to slip and do something stupid. I had a
career.

   The images of the boy's buttocks filled my dreams. Pale firm little
globes. Stretched on my lap, I was spanking him. And he loved it.
Begging for more stinging blows. The sound of my hand slapping his
tender flesh echoing, so alive, so vivid.

   I had never before felt these forbidden stirrings in my groin.
Unquenchable lust for smooth skin. Raw energy of youth. I was walking
on the razor's edge. One step away from my doom. So the night
of my dismissal, I trudged to the 'Zoo'. The gay disco was a popular
joint among gay teens. I dragged the first eighteen-year-old back
to my place and let him fuck me. Achieving closure.

                                -=-

   For the next three years, I didn't see much of either Scott or his
mother. It was fine by me. A new project consumed all my free time.
Months and years flew by quickly. That was until the night of May
Fifth. I can recall clearly the tragic event that would forever make me
question the trivial concept of destiny.

   The essay I was writing made my brains ache. On the strike of
midnight, I traded the compelling studies of Freud for an half hour of
South Park. Prepared for a fulfilling sleep, I sprawled in my
underwear, with a Heineken, in my comfy armchair. Just as Kenny was
about to die on the tv screen, the doorbell rang.

   I opened the door and in rushed the temptor of my dreams, in his
skimpy red bikini. He was twelve now, but still as stunning.

"Close the door!" he shouted, gasping for air.

   I obeyed, noticing the swollen eye he was sporting. Tears of fear
ran down his rosy cheeks and his hands shook like he had alzheimer's.
Streaks of blood oozed from the corner of his lips.

"Mmm mm y momm's not ttthhere." he stammered nervously.

"Calm down! You're safe!" I affirmed, plopping him on the couch. I
dashed to the kitchen for a bag of ice and cared for his wounded
eyelid.

"My mom's not there..." he explained, panting. "There was a burglar in my
room. He he came in through the window. Then he punched me in the face and
I I bit him!" he disburdened hurriedly.

   I wondered if I should call 911 to report the break in. This type
of crime was a common thing around here. It was pointless. Probably a
drug addict looking for petty cash. They would never catch him.

   Instead I focused on the little boy's bulging eye, turning black
gradually. I stayed nearby, knowing by experience that he would
unravel soon.

"He tried to kill me!" Scott whimpered, hugging me solidly and sobbing
generous tears on my shoulder. I embraced him, feeling his tired body
jerking in my arms like he had hiccups.

"I wanna sleep here.." he implored.

   The request seemed reasonable at the time. I was impressed at how
much he had grown. Keeping my mouth shut about it on purpose. For I knew
kids didn't care for the empty remarks about their growing structure.

   He was a big boy now. His arms still didn't possess the ripples of
muscles. But his shoulders had broadened and his voice was cracking on
the verge of puberty. The pressure of fashion had taken its toll and
he shaved the hair on the nape of his neck now.

"Okay." I agreed.

   I slipped under the covers, exhausted by the turn of events.
Scott's eyes were pensive. He certainly had not foreseen sharing the
bed of a grown man.

"Turn around" he muttered shyly. "I peed in my undies and I wanna
take them off..."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. I had not noticed the humid stain. The burglar had
really scared the piss out of him. I spun my gaze away while he
crawled into bed, giggling boyishly.

"You forgot the light Scott!" I pointed out.

"Shit!" the boy cursed, swiftly leaping out to flick the switch.

   The kid had grown everywhere. His balls definitly were lower. He
even had appetizing peach fuzz above his dangling pecker. The same
marvelous tight butt.

"I saw it! I saw your wee-wee!" I cheered like a toddler, nudging him
in the ribs.

"Oh shuddup."

   Scott kept a good distance between his stiff form and mine. We lay
for a while silently, breathing peacefully. When I felt his hand on my
belly, I panicked. What would a sane man do in this situation. The
past experience had taught me not to play that game. I shoved the
invading limb to its owner, guarding my frontier of intimacy.

   But the lad brought it back. This time, playing with the prickly
hairs around my navel. He snucked the tips of his fingers under the
waistband of my briefs and fondled my hairy balls. My heartbeat was
erratic. I could not see anything in the inky darkness of the bedroom,
only feel -- feel the tender exploring digits caressing my throbbing
erection.

   The boy shifted his body on the mattress. A chunk of saliva glogged
my throat, witholding my excuses, my disapproval. His little tongue
traced the outline of my shaft, leaving a trail of spittle. He darted
his oral probe at the bloated helmet of my cock and I moaned. The kid's
sweet mouth suddenly engulfed my prick. This was heaven and hell at
the same time.

   The boy's lips were slidding on the entire length, swallowing my
six inches of inflated meat. He ate my cock ravenously. How could I let
it happen? Lust crept up my brain, coaxing me to push his head on my
hard-on and feed him all of it. An ardent battle between reason and
dark desires tortured my soul.

   In turn, I rolled on my flank to seek his penis in the obscurity.
It's only sex afterall, I convince myself. His legs were so smooth as
I massaged them. The kid's proud soldier was at attention, poking me
on the nose. I plunged on the pulsing boydick, tasting on my tongue,
the banned delicacy. Half-believing I was actually giving head to a
mere child.

   We sixty-nined langourously for long minutes, like old lovers.
Carefully listening to our muffled moans. I could have sucked him for
hours. It certainly was no chore to pleasure Scott. Each time I
swirled my oral instrument on his knob, he cooed. Savoring every
second of my experienced mouth servicing him.

   He bobbed his head faster, suctionning like a vacuum my engorged
manhood. Summoning the juice of my repressed libido. I wanted to
scream. Kiss his body all over and tell him how good he was.

   The onset of my orgasm scared me. I didn't wanna spoil the
beautiful moment. We were angels in a heaven of bliss. And I feared
the flow of my seed would change all that. Scott pursued his blow job,
eager to make me cum.

"Uhhh Take your mouth off.." I warned.

   But the boy clasped his lips around the crown of my dickhead and
gulped down the thick cream I shot in his mouth. Eating all my wad
hungrilly.

   In return, I sucked him with more vigor. Determined to confer the
absolute best fellation of his young life. He cried in the night,
thrusting his stiff boyhood in my cavity. The boy's pleas for release
were better than any of Beethoven's symphonies. He trashed on the
mattress, spewing his timid load on my palate. The fresh kidcum tasted
like honey. I lapped up his softening boner, making sure I didn't lose
one drop of the youthful nectar.

                                -=-

   There was no mention of our lovemaking the next morning. Scott ate
breakfast in his birthday suit, unashamed. I contemplated the little man
he had become, drinking down orange juice. We talked a while about his
girlfriend and he left.

   When his mother learned of the burglary, she had a fit. I was back
to babysitting the bold devil. But it was a different story. I dreaded
my own behaviour around the pretty boytoy. He knew my weakness for his
hairless body. Many times, I found myself arguing with him until I
bowed under the pressure and gave him a blow job.

   His mother was dating a new boyfriend. And so, his four inch pecker
shot twenty times in my mouth throughout the month of June. Even when
I wasn't babysitting the lad, he climbed to my apartment for a suck.
Begging with his puppy eyes for my moist lips. I was unnerved, the
presence of his mom right below the floor, dampening my passion.

   He was a little macho, jumping from one girl to the next when they
didn't cooperate with his blossoming sexual impulses. A bully in the
schoolyard, getting into bloody fights after an exchange of puerile
insults. His mother lent me her credit card and we went shopping for
new clothes. He bought the latest craze. Those black glossy pants with
two white lines on the side. Passing in front of a jewelry, he asked if
I would pay for a piercing.

   I recommended that he got the hole on the left lobe. He didn't care
for a fake diamond stud like mine and selected a manlier silver ring.
As much as he defended his case, his mother thought I was behind the
whole thing and gave me shit for a week.

   I protected the kid from criminals on almost every weekend. At the
end of July, he was twelve and a half. His hormones pumping furiously.
The sex we shared continued to make me nervous. He was slurping my
cock as if it was natural for a straight boy to do. Gulping down my
semen by the buckets. I feared my life was in danger. Every illegal
encounter clouding my mind for days afterward.

   He wasn't the impish cute nine-year-old anymore. The little boy
had transformed into a demented sex obsessed monster. A street
warrior with power on his mind. His precocious conduct inflamed by the
frustrations of poverty and bad education.

   He treated me like his personal sex slave. I always let him win
when we wrestled on the carpet. He would take out his penis from his
jeans and rub it on my lips, saying "SUCK IT!" with a commanding tone
of voice. The violence that ensued had me regressing to my childhood.
When at the age of eleven I was forced by older boys to perform oral
sex in the most degrading ways. I must admit I was afraid of him as he
fucked my mouth and pulled on my hair.

   However, Scott could be so gentle. He loved to sit on my lap and
purred while I massaged his thighs and kissed the back of his head. It
was during one of those quiet moments of joy that he revealed he had
lost his cherry to an easy girl. I pitied the thirteen-year-old slut
and frowned at the boy for having unprotected sex. His harsh words
reminding me that he wasn't an innocent kid.

"I think I made her come!" he smiled. "She wasn't even a virgin the
little whore. She didn't bleed at all. Her boobies were so small man!
She blew my dick good.. but not as good as you... I wanted to fuck her
in the ass. She didn't let me. So I nailed her pussy twice."

   Inevitably, I got stiff whenever the boy wiggled his ass on my
crotch. His dirty talk accentuating my arousal this time around. He
finished his story and looked me directly in the eyes. "I bet you
wanna stick your dick in my ass!" he declared with a sly wink and a
wicked grin across his babyface. I didn't even humor the boy, opting
for a silent peck on his tit. Comforted by the notion he wouldn't be
so cocky with my hard prick up his fanny.

   The pre-teen was like an animal when we engaged in vanilla sex. He
dug his fingernails in the flesh of my buttocks while he sucked me
greedilly. I yelled in pain and returned the aggressivity, tugging on
his earring with my teeth. His pierced hole still slightly infected
had him wincing in agony.

   One evening, I managed to drag a blond twink to my house. He was
twenty-one and dumb as a doorknob. I didn't care for I needed to
feast on his beefy tool. Scott showed up and understood right away
what was going on. He resisted my futile attempts to expel him out of
my home. Perhaps jealousy scalding his heart, I flattered myself.

   It was difficult to explain to my adult partner that the kid would
watch our coupling. But in the end, he was too horny to bother. We
sucked each other in front of the evil lad. One more felony for the
record. Scott fixed his gaze on us, as if he was watching a baseball
game.

   The tall male mounted me from the back and drilled his big cock in
my ass. I was perplexed. From the corner of my eye I could see the
twelve-year-old and wished he had the same equipment to please my anal
canal.

   As I expected, Scott annoyed me to let him try my backdoor. I
obliged rapidly. The boy always got what he desired. I was like jell-o
when he spoke with a baby voice.

   He fucked me on a daily basis. His diminutive boycock providing
very few tingles to my loose anus. The kid had energy. He thrust his
erection to the hilt for sessions of thirty minutes. I was more
excited by the weight of his jerking frame on my back. By the squeals
of delight and the cries of orgasm that escaped his lips than by his
slim pole pistonning my insides.

   His constant litany of `Oh's' and `Ah's' became a drug. I required my
fix of his wails as much as he needed the elastic ring of my asshole
around his shaft.

   He stopped screwing my butt abruptly and returned to oral sex. I
wasn't concerned for a while. After two weeks, my conscience started
imagining that he was sick. Or that he had been brainwashed into
believing it was dirty. Or worse, that he was tackling the touchy
issue of his possible homosexuality. I doubted it was any of those
three hypothesises and went to the fridge for two beers.

   The strong imported ale I uncapped was gonna be my doorway to his
soul. He drank the brown ale very fast. The alcohol made him giddy
and he confided he had discovered the euphoria of tighter bumholes
with the little brother of a school buddy. The tyke was only eight.
He had screwed his bottom good.

   I scolded him for molesting such an immature creature. But he
refreshed my memory promptly on the fact that I was doing the exact same
crime with him. With a carefree attitude, he stated that the kid was
getting porked by his big bro regurlarly and that he liked it anyway.

   He went on to articulate his theory that girls would never allow
him that exquisite experience. That it was easier to find receptive
boys for that matter. In between the sentences of his demonstration,
he often claimed his heterosexuality. Something useless. For I never
questioned it. The last thing he mentionned was his new partner.

   An eleven-year-old boy named Michael who loved to take it in the
ass as much as he fancied giving it to him. They had already sampled
every sexual position after the school bell, in Michael's bed. The
young male was in love with him and I almost slapped him when he said
he used the child's adoration to get into his butt. The description of
his rough intercourse with the kid was like thorns in my heart.

"I really buttfuck him HARD man! My whole dick in his behind!
Sometimes I pee in his mouth and he drinks it. Gross! He wants to do
it every day. When I don't feel like it, he pushes his bum on my dick
and fucks himself like that. Monday, I slammed my boner so hard, his
poop hole was all red and open. He told me he couldn't hold his shit
for two days!"

   I sulked silently for a moment. Preparing my sermon. Convincing
myself that boys that age should wait until they are mature
teenagers before experimenting such adult acts. I longed so much for
Scott to realize that people's feelings shouldn't be toyed with. That
sex was a responsibility.

   My words came out all wrong. Sounding phony right from the start.
The boy retaliated, telling me I wasn't his father. Insisting with
solemn seriousness that Michael enjoyed it.

   We watched television quietly. Scott was slanting slowly on the couch
from the effect of the brew. His underwear tenting from the hardness
triggered by the recollection of his anal adventures.

   He took off his last piece of garment and laid buck naked on his
tummy. Humping his woody on the cushion with slow hip thrusts. I was
accustomed to the oversexed boy and didn't interrogate him on the
strange practice. Praying he wasn't planning to ejaculate on the sofa
just to make me mad.

   Close to eleven o'clock, his face got lost in an ocean of deep
reflection. He slipped the tip of his fingers in his asscrack and
caressed his rectal opening obscenely. This time I asked: "Are you horny
Scott? Do you want me to suck you or something?"

"No... I was wondering how it felt to have a dick in yer ass.. Do you
wanna do it to me Clayton? You know.. fuck me uh?"

"Let's go to bed." I growled. "To sleep that is." I added quickly
realizing my bad choice of words. He was too exhausted to fuss and
I was relieved. Alcohol was probably still flowing in the veins of his
childish body. I dozed off with the hearten sentiment that he would have
forgotten the grave request come morning.

                                -=-

   I had my hands full with the boy for the next weeks. He brought
vaseline out each time we sixty-nined. Desperatly seeking to have
me mount him. I tried to reason with him. We would have long talks
naked on the bed as I fiddled with every vertebra protruding from his
spine.

   Even though I exaggerated the excuses. Telling him that I would rip
him. That he would bleed to death. That he would endure the worst pain
of his life. He didn't budge. Persuaded I would cave in eventually. The
head games were driving me crazy. Any other adult or even a late
teenager I would have fucked without remorse.

   The next time we had sex. The twelve-year-old worked my tool
like a whore. He teased my cock with his pouty lips and lusty eyes.
Pausing on the brink of my impeding orgasm. Again and again, he sucked
and removed his mouth, watching me squirm. Hearing me plead with my soft
whimpers for release. I longed so very much to see my dick spit on his
beautiful face.

   He crawled on the bed and parted his asscheeks unceremoniously. I
looked at his minuscule hole so virginal and pink. "Fuck me now!" he
barked, conveying the unchangeable nature of his decision in the short
sentence.

"Not like that!" I tinkered with his mind. "Stand up and bend over."
The boy sighed heavilly and put his palms flat on the wall, sticking
his ass out, legs spread. I lubed my engorged penis slowly, turning
every second to torture for the the impatient lad. I knew he was
anxious. He was fidgetting on his toes. Fighting to relax for the
painful invasion.

   I pressed the tip of my tool on his anus, to give him a taste of
the dimension of the pole about to deflower him. My hands gripped
firmly his lean hips. For an instant, I fantasized I was raping him.
Just like what happened on my first time at roughly the same age.
"Do it man!" Scott urged. I applied a lot of pressure to the tiny
muscle and my angry knob burst inside his rectum at once.

"Arghhhhh Aow! fuck! oh fuck! Go slow it hurts!" he complained.

"You're sure you wanna do it!?"

"Yess yess stick it in me! I wanna know how it feels." he wept.

   I pursued my journey into his tight opening. Inching the entire
length of my slippery snake deep inside his rectum. Scott shook his
head and drooled on the hardwood floor. His body going limp, his legs
turning to rubber. It felt like I was supporting his whole weight on
my iron spike.

   I pulled on his round bottom, remaining straight, using his tail
to pleasure my pulsating erection. He learned to enjoy the squishy
penetration and rocked on his heels to impale himself gently on my
phallus.

   After long minutes of the same, he began moaning sensuously. His
enlarged shithole was glidding easilly on my shaft. I decided it was time
he experienced what buttfucking really felt like, on the receiving
end. With my cock lodged in his butt, I swung him on the edge of the
matress. He gasped when I gripped his shoulder brutally with my left paw.
More so when I pulled on his hair with my right hand, tilting his head back
and arching his throat.

"You're gonna be FUCKED now!" I snarled.

"Yess yeahh do it. Fuck me!" he peeped.

   His wails of pain resonated as soon as I started sodomizing him in
earnest. My slamming cock plowing deep in his warm bowels. The
headboard banged loudly each time I shoved myself into him. "Don't
stop! Don't stop! Uhhh uhhhhhhh Uhhhhh" Scott chanted, even though
he was going through hell. It would take at least a good ten minutes
before he could start enjoying the sodomy.

   From time to time, I rabbit fucked him, thinking in my head: "This is
for Michael! How does it feel to have a whole dick in yer ass!". Scott
yelled and trashed, my balls slapping against his hairless bollocks
during those interludes of frantic rutting.

  Smothering the kid with my body, I rode the young colt. In time,
he pushed his ass back, swallowing my six inches with his anus. I
twisted his body on the bed to fuck him sideways with his slender leg
pointing at the ceiling. He gasped loudly in that position, for I
could stuff my fuckpole deep in his chute.

  His boydick was stiff and wagging from the intense union. I rubbed
my fingers on it until he was about to come. Aping the cruel game he
had played with me, I stopped and drilled his young bum. His hands
clenched the bed sheets and he cried like a puppy. Sweat seeping out
of every pore of his smooth body.

  For what seemed like forever, I tickled the kid's hard-on and fucked
him. His rectum was a gooey glove of quivering flesh around my ramming
pole. He screamed like a girl when I allowed him to climax. His
pre-teen rod squirting three jets of boyjuice on his bellybutton.

  My cock swelled to enormous proportions inside his entrails. It
quaked furiously and ejaculated a river of sperm. The look of divine
bliss on Scott's face was telling me he could feel my hot lava filling
his intestines.

  We stayed fused, basking in the afterglow of our respective orgasms.
My manhood softening in his sore asshole. A bitter tear rolled down my
cheek. I was the horrible sicko they wrote about in newspapers. My
little boy was sobbing, touching the tender skin of his irritated
anus.

"I'm so sorry Scott. Are you okay?" I worried.

"Yes. Hold me Clayton." he whispered. "Do you love me now?"

THE END.

You can send comments and suggestions to debonair36@hotmail.com
All flames will be ignored cuz' some people will never grasp the concept
of fiction. I do not condone any of the acts in this file. Agatha Christie
wrote about murderers all her life. She was not a criminal.
Fight for free speech and stop censorship.