Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2017 08:19:56 +0100 From: Albert Horniman Subject: Teenage Muscle Hunk Teenage Muscle Hunk A cumming of age story by A. Horniman. Keep nifty going – make your donation here ... http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html * Part 1 "Mum, I don't like it when they touch me like that. It makes me feel weird, like I was a piece of meat or something." "Don't pay it no mind son. They don't mean anything by it. They're just admiring your muscles, is all. You're proud of your body, aren't you? I know you are," she added and planted a motherly kiss on my forehead. My mother's three older sisters: Hetty, Betty and Mina. Every time they visited they wanted `a little show'. That meant I had to strip down to my boxers and pose to show them my muscles and they would run their bony wrinkled fingers and clammy hands over my youthful flesh, cooing and ooing and telling me what a good-looking boy I was and how the girls were going to love me when I was older. "Has he got a girlfriend yet?" Aunt Mina asked my mother. "I don't think so. He hasn't mentioned anything." "You keeping her a secret David?" Mina asked to my blushes. Aunt Mina was the worst of them. Always making sly comments. Getting me to do push-ups so she could comment on how sexy my bum was. I was starting to dread their monthly visits. "I feel like a prize sheep when they touch me like that," I said to my mother. "It's just fun darling. They don't mean anything by it," my mother replied. "By the way, have you taken the medicine that coach gave you?" "It gives me stomach ache mum." "But it's to make you grow big and strong dear. Your dad loves the photos I send him of you. He says you're going to be a real champion in a few years." If my dad had been around, things would have been different. But he decided he wasn't ready to be a father and walked out shortly after I was born. He worked on the oil rigs and the deal was that my mum would send him photos of me and we would have a skype call at Christmas and on my birthday. And that was it. * It got worse the following year. I was 16 and old enough to enter the Mr Teenage Body contest. Coach increased my training. Morning jogging, afterschool workouts, rowing and cycling at the weekends. The mirror told me how great my body looked. The looks I was getting from people as well. So why did I feel like absolute shit? * A few days before the contest, the aunts visited. "We've got a present for you!" Aunt Betty announced excitedly and gave me a paper wrapped package. "Go on, open it!" Aunt Hetty ordered as I fumbled with the layers of paper and tape. It was a bright yellow triangle of cloth with thin white straps. "It's a posing pouch," Aunt Mina said, "For you to wear at the contest. Why don't you put it on?" "Er... maybe later," I said. "Don't be ungrateful David," my mother said. "Say thank you to your aunts for their lovely present and put it on and show them your posing routine." So I did. The pouch felt great actually. The material was soft and hugged my junk like a warm hand as I showed them my routine. "Bravo!" they clapped. * I came second. An Arab kid from another school won it. Yousef something. 18 years old, almost six foot tall. He was every inch a man. He winked at me and adjusted his crotch. "Still, not bad for your first contest," Coach said as I headed to the shower to wash the oil off me. "I'll wait for you outside and give you a lift home." There was still one shower running. The Arab kid was there. He was grinning and soaping his massive bronzed body, and pulling at his thick dark cock. "Loser sucks the winner OK?" he said. "I've never ...." I started. "I've seen the way you look at me. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," he said as I shook my head. "No, no, I can't..." "But your cock is telling me you're interested..." he added and sure enough my teenage cock was standing out straight and hard. His body in the steam of the shower was everything I wanted to be – the sight of him, the smell of him were turning me on. "Go on ..." he said, "touch me... Feel those pecs and give those nipples a squeeze. Oh yeh! Look what you're doing to me!" His cock was now standing fully erect. A man's cock. Thick and curving. Dark brown with a purple head. Water dripping off his hairy balls. He ran a soapy hand over my bum. Squeezed the muscles then ran a finger down the cleft and played a slick finger round the hole." I gasp at his touch. "Lovely butt," he's saying. "I'd love to give you one..." "David?" Coach's voice. "Hurry up! I want to get going!" "Shit!" he says. "Sorry, I've got to go... I'll see you..." And that night I shot off four massive loads thinking about Yousef and his sexy body, the feeling of his hands on me. What he wanted to do to me. What he wanted me to do to him. And what I wanted. * Sure, I'd dated a couple of girls. I'd gone out with Sandra Ellis few times and I felt the expectation from her to take it further. Rather than just sitting holding hands, we were supposed to make out, me to grope her tits or something. That's what guys did, wasn't it? To try to get a leg-over like the guys at school were always on about. But Sandra's soft feminine touch didn't do anything for me. In fact, it repulsed me. It reminded me of the cold clammy hands of Aunt Hetty and the bony fingers of Aunt Mina. The way they treated me like an animal that was going to market. Nice muscles. Firm arse. What am I bid for this hunky teenage boy? So when Sandra took the initiative one day and groped my crotch, I froze, pulled back. "Don't you like me touching you?" she asked. "No, please. Not now," I replied. "OK. If that's what you want," she replied sourly. Soon after that the rumours began. With girls giggling after me at school. Shit!! * So thank you Lisa Cartwright for being my beard and confidante. Lisa was frank with me. "You know I'm lesbian," she said. I looked at her in shock. And then, "You're gay, aren't you?" "I don't know," I replied. "I've never really done anything with anyone..." "Sandra's been telling everyone that you're not interested in girls so you must be queer." I sat in silence and stared at my shoe. "Do you want to have sex with me?" she asked. I looked at her in surprise. "But I thought you said..." "David, it's all right. I don't want to do it either. I was just asking to be sure." I breathed a sigh of relief and we smiled at each other. "So if anyone asks, we're going out together. That way, they'll never guess the truth. Deal?" * The cover story worked. "You're dating Lisa then?" It was Terry from my class and my biggest fan. Terry was slim, he had some sort of problem with his bones which meant he couldn't do PE or sports or anything physical like that. But I liked Terry and he was good to hang out with. Plus he was my partner in biology and we were working on a fieldwork project together measuring the pH of the local river which on hot days ended up with us sunbathing. "I'm not really dating Lisa," I answered. "We're more just sort of friends. But please don't tell anyone." Terry looked at me – his puppy-dog eyes magnified behind his glasses. "You can trust me David," he said and I knew I could. * So we're sunbathing together by the river and I strip down to my boxers. "Do you wank?" Terry asks me. "Of course!" I reply. "Do you?" "All the time," he replied with a giggle and then went on, "It got so that my dad ended up telling me to keep a rag by the bed to come into `cos the sheets where getting impossible to wash." I laughed. "I like coming in my shorts," I said. "Then letting it dry." "Doesn't the spunk stick to the hair?" Terry asked. "I'm not very hairy," I said then thought of Yousef's crotch – the thick dark hair round his balls. If he didn't have to shave off his body hair to compete, he'd be like a fucking gorilla. I imagine running my hands over Yousef's hairy muscles, imagine the feeling his body against mine ... "You're getting a stiffy," Terry says. "So are you," I reply. "Do you want to do something?" Terry asks. "Like what?" "Like jack off together..." "I `spose we'd better. I can't go home like this," I reply. I pull down my boxers and my circumcised cock springs out, stiff and oozing. "Awesome!" Terry says. "C'mon, now yours," I say. And Terry unzips and hauls out a semi-stiff uncut cock. The first time I've seen one like that up close. "Wow!" I say as I watch it grow, then: "It's massive!" "Do you think it's too big?" he asks nervously. "No, no, it's just the right size. It's just that it looks big on you because you're so slim." "Weedy, you mean," Terry says. "No, not at all," I reply. "You've got a nice body. It's all in proportion." "I think your body is perfect," Terry says, "Your muscles all sweaty and shining in the sunlight..." I never know what to say when someone compliments me like that so I don't say anything. * After that Terry became my regular jack-off buddy. At first, we never touched each other. He showed me how he wanked, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock. Another time he showed me the light touch he used rather than the death-grip I was using. "No, not like that. You're doing it all wrong. Let me show you." And his hand was round my cock and he was using fast light movements. At first it didn't do anything for me then it started to feel incredible. I could feel the urge to come boiling my balls. Then he stopped. "Why did you stop? I was almost there?" "If I take you to the edge a few times you'll really explode when I let you come." And he started again. Fast and light. I was wriggling and thrusting my hips wanting to shoot. So close... Terry stopped again. I was panting and sweating. It was like the come was churning in my nuts, wanting release. Then Terry started working on my nipples. Oh my god! Like an electric charge. "Hard, hard! pinch them hard!" I was saying. Then he was back on my dick. Fast and light. Speeding up, slowing down. Working his other hand round my aching nuts. Then I shot. My whole body went into spasm. The first blast went right over my head, the second blast hit me in the face, the third hit my chest, the next hit my abs and the rest trickled down my dick onto my balls. I lay panting and covered in come. "I've always wanted to do that to someone," Terry said. "How did you learn that?" I asked him. "Oh, I told you, I wank all the time," he replied modestly. "It was incredible!" I went on, "I've never come as hard as that before." "I can show you more next time if you like," he said. * Then next weekend was a visit from the aunts and all my social engagements had to be cancelled. No afternoon wank sessions with Terry. No hanging out with Lisa. "Sorry Lisa, the aunts are coming. I can't see you over the weekend." "You don't sound too happy about it..." she commented "I'm not," I replied. "They're weird." But I couldn't tell her what went on. Saturday morning, I came back from jogging to find them in the kitchen, drinking tea and chatting to my mother. Hetty with her blue rinse hair and the smell of gin on her breath. Betty with her ill- fitting wig. And Mina with too much make up and fake tan that made her look like a pickled onion. "I remember when he was an `ickle baby..." Hetty was saying. "He used to sit on my lap and I used to play `Round and Round the Garden' with him and end up tickling him," Betty said. "He won't let us tickle him now," Mina said pulling a sad face. "No, he's a big boy now and he wants to play different games," "All those muscles!" "He'll be Mr Teen Body next year you mark my words!" I listen to them talking about me as if I'm not there. "Sorry," I say. "I'm just going to shower. I've just got back from a run..." "And his muscles are all sweaty," Mina added salaciously. "Come down a give us a show later," Betty said. "Yes, in one of those posing pouches we got you." "The leather one..." "No I want to see him in the leopard skin one..." "How about the wet-look lycra?" "It's like having our own Magic Mike ..." "... our own Chippendale." "If that's what you feel, you should fucking pay me!" I think but I don't say. I just head upstairs to have a shower. * Monday I'm down in the dumps. I feel disgusted with myself. Terry notices. "You OK?" he asks with concern in his voice. "I'm fine," I lie. "Just tired." Lisa notices as well. "Meet you after school?" she asks. "Sure..." I say. * And I tell her about my aunts. "I don't think I can take it any more. It's not only the way they look at me. It's the way they touch me. It's like I'm like a doll to them. Three old ladies running their hands over me, pinching and poking at me. Its yucky! I hate it!" "Have you tried saying no?" "I've tried but my mother says it's just in fun and they don't mean anything by it." "It sounds like abuse to me," Lisa said in a serious voice. "You think so?" "Inappropriate touching is definitely abusive. We studied it in class. Anyway, my uncle tried it on with me a few years ago. I told him to go eat shit and he hasn't been back to our house since." "But they buy me things." "Like what?" "Posing pouches..." Lisa shook her head. "Oh dear. And you have to model them I suppose." "That's right." "No wonder you don't want anything to do with girls," she said. "Maybe you're right," I sighed. "Tell them look but don't touch," Lisa suggested. "Thanks. I'll try that." * That evening I thought about what Lisa had said. They were my aunts, my mother's sisters. How could I tell them to stop? But I hated it when they touched me like that. It was so creepy. Lisa was right. It was abuse. And the damnable thing was, my mother was part of it! What could I do? But my body knew what to do. I went to the bathroom and puked my guts up. "Are you all right darling?" "Of course I'm not all right!" I think but don't say. "It's OK. I feel better now," I reply. Then I went out for a walk. It was dark but I just needed to walk off some of the anger that I was feeling. There were some woods near our place so I put on some cargo shorts and a hoody and with the anger still bubbling up in me and testosterone coursing through my teen body, I headed there. "Fucking bitch aunts!" I muttered to myself as I followed a dark path into the wood. An owl hooted. The moon hung in the branches of a tree. I pushed through the undergrowth, brambles scratching at my legs as if they wanted to impede my progress. So what if I bled a little! A man was standing just off the path in the shadows. I ignored him and stomped by. I felt his eyes lusting after me. Look all you want fucker! You ain't getting none! Then a noise, the sound of slapping and moaning. I could just make out the body of a tall well-built guy and a slim guy bent over, moaning with pleasure. Oh my god, he's fucking him! Men standing round watching, cocks out, stroking, groping each other. No words, just the incredible buzz of sex. A hand explores my arse, another hand goes for my junk. I move away. Not that. I'm not ready for that. * "Where've you been?" my mother asks. "Out," I reply. "Where?" "Just out." * I go back the next night. I watch a guy getting fucked bent over a fallen tree. I'm playing with myself, getting hard. A guy comes up to me and puts his hand to my crotch, I remove the hand and just walk away. I head down to the lake, the sounds of ducks, quacking to themselves in their duck dreams. I find a fallen tree and sit. The air feels fresh around me. But I'm hard and horny. I take my cock out and start stroking. A man comes past, looks at me, I stand up. He drops to his knees and takes my cock in his mouth. Oh my god! My first blow- job. Not from a lover but from a stranger in a dark wood. It feels great though, he's pulling my shorts down to get to my balls, licking them. "Can I rim you?" he whispers. I don't know what he means but not getting an answer he's behind me, licking my butt. "No, not that!" "I'm sorry," he replies, "Can I suck you?" And he does. "Lick my balls again," and he does what I tell him. Yeh man, worship that fat teen cock! and I'm emptying a load of spunk into his willing throat. "Cheers man!" I say to him, zip up and walk away, leaving him on his knees with his mouth full of my come. Back in my room I'm still horny and I shoot off another load the way Terry showed me – taking it to the edge with light fast strokes then letting the urge subside, three, four times, feeling the come build in my balls till I can't stand it any more and then I just let fly, my whole body going into spasm as the come shoots from me. Still, it's better when Terry does me. Why does someone else's hand feel better than your own? Then I ruin another pair of boxer shorts and let the spunk soak into my crotch. This is MY body! I own it! I can do what I want with it! If I want to come in my boxers I will. Gottit? * The next week finds Terry and me down by the river. Taking pH measurements, then relaxing, cocks out. Lazily jerking in the sun. "You ever had a blow job?" Terry asks. "Yes I have," I reply. "This bloke in the woods the other night..." "Wow! Was it good?" "Yep." "Better than wanking?" "Different." "I've tried sucking myself but I'm not flexible enough," Terry says and curls himself up like a woodlouse, trying to get his dick in his mouth and ends up rolling about on the grass giggling. "Don't make me laugh," I say. "I'm trying to have a serious wank here." "Sorry. Want a hand?" he asks "Yeh, go on. I like it when you do me." "Soft and light?" he asks. "Yeh, and play with my balls as well," I say. "I love the smell of your cock when you're all hot and randy," Terry says moving his face close. "You can lick it if you want..." I say. "But take your glasses off first." And Terry licks the top of my dick then dives his mouth down on it. "Nice!" I say. "Just mind your teeth." "Now bob your head up and down on it." I was getting into giving orders, telling him what I liked. He didn't seem to object so I carried on. "That's it, now lick my nuts... Oh yeh, that's good. Now back to my dick." And he's stroking my thighs and I'm squeezing my tits and I feel the come starting to boil up. "I'm going to come!" and Terry pulls off me just as I jet my first blast, and it's all over his face and dripping off his chin. "Sorry..." I start to say. "No it's all right. That was great," Terry says as he's licking his lips clean of my come. "How does it taste?" I ask. "Nice. Like you," Terry says. I ruffle his hair and scoop some my come off his cheek in my fingers and lick it. "I came while I was sucking you," he says. * "You know he's in love with you," Lisa says. "Who?" I ask. "Terry of course. The way he looks at you..." "I like him. He's a good mate but I didn't realise..." "Just don't hurt him David. He hasn't got many friends." * Terry's in love with me? I like him a lot. He's great to muck about with but this feels like too much of a responsibility. How to let him down gently? Shit! As if I didn't have enough to worry about! So I'm sitting on a fallen tree trunk by a lake in the woods. It's dark. Men are walking around. I let a guy grope my crotch. "Got any poppers?" he asks. "Sorry," I say and walk on. Then another guy came up to me. I can't see his face. He walks like he's got plenty of muscle. Maybe a construction worker. He stands in front of me groping his package. He's hot! I reach out and he lets me touch him. I can feel his hard-on and balls through the soft cotton of his sweatpants. He returns the favour and soon we're groping each other's crotches. Then he's got a hand running over my chest. "Phwoar!" he says in a dirty voice, "Lovely muscles!" "Yeh, you too," I say. Then my shorts are down around my ankles and he's running his hand over my bum. It feels good. His sweatpants are down as well, I've got a handful of his bollocks, feeling the heat of his hard-on. "Got a condom?" he asks me. "No," I say. "Wanna take me bareback?" and he's working his finger inside me. "I don't get fucked," I reply. "Oh. OK. Sorry mate," he says. And we wank each other off. It's great. I love feeling him up and the touch of his hands running over me. His face moves in on mine, I see the yearning in his eyes and then we're kissing! I've never kissed anyone like this before and this is just so hot, so amazing. I work his cock like Terry showed me and he's gasping till finally he shoots his spunk all over my chest. Then taking a handful of his come he smears it on my cock and wanks me to a shattering orgasm. Afterwards we chat a bit. His name is Clive. He's married but his wife has been in hospital for a while so he's not getting any. Tells me he'd rather play around with blokes than get mixed up with other women. "They can be trouble," he says. I nod sagely. He asks me my age. "Eighteen," I lie. "Here's my mobile number if you fancy getting together again," he says, gives my arse another squeeze and we part. * Back in my room I'm jacking off again. Recalling Clive's sexy body, his hands on me. That's more like it! See him again? That would be fun. Plus he respected my wishes when I said "no" and didn't push things. That felt good! Still, I've got his mobile number. He might be the one to take my cherry. * Later that week I decide to come clean with Terry. "I like you Terry. I really like doing stuff with you. But I'm not in love with you." I can see his eyes tearing up. "David..." he starts to say. "No don't tell me," I say. "I was just going to say thank you for being so honest with me," he continues. I hang my head. I feel so bad about hurting this sweet boy. "We can carry on doing stuff if you want..." I say. "We'll see," he says. "I'll have to think about it." * Lisa sighs when I tell her. "Well maybe a little pain now is better than a lot of pain later," she says. "I still feel fucking guilty about hurting him." "What was the alternative?" "I could have led him on, used him ... pretended to be in love with him ..." "And where would that have gone?" she asks. "You're right," I say. Then: "How did you get so wise?" She laughs. * Another aunt visit looms. The night before, a dream: I'm standing naked and the aunts are touching me up, one is licking my balls, one has got her tongue up my arse and the other is sucking my dick. I'm frozen. I can't move. It's not sexual at all. It's just horrible. I pull myself awake out of the dream. "No!" I shout, and go and wash my face. My mother's voice: "Are you all right David?" "Just a bad dream," I reply. * I come back from my Saturday morning run and they're sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. My mother and her three older sisters. Three elderly wrinkled, grey-haired widows. God knows what their husbands died of! "Hi David, are you going to give us a little show after you've had your shower?" Aunt Hetty asks. I look at them. I remember what Lisa said. I remember the dream I had. The anger rises in me, cold, clear, determined. "No, I'm sorry. That's not going to happen any more. I'm grateful for all the presents and all the encouragement you've given me but I'm not a little boy and it doesn't feel right to let you look at me and touch me like that." "David!" "How ungrateful!" "After all we've done for him!" "You wouldn't like me to treat you like that would you?" I continued. "So the answer is no. And it stays no." "Well I never!" "Still, he's got a point. He's not a little boy any more." Collective sigh. "More coffee?" * No means no. Geddit? You may be lonely and sex-starved but that's not my problem! I decide who touches me and where they touch me. Gottit? * Lisa saw the difference immediately. "You told them?" "Yep!" "What did they say?" "They moaned a bit about me being ungrateful but then I reminded them that I wasn't a little boy any more and they wouldn't like me to treat them like that." "Brilliant! Well done! And how do you feel?" "Better than I have for a long time," I reply. * That afternoon I phone Clive. "Wanna come round?" he asks. "I'm on me own here." to be continued... * Here's where you make your donation to keep nifty going http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Other stories by Albert Horniman can be found in the prolific authors section.