This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving a man, a teenager and two MINOR boys. Such descriptions are an integral part of the story. While the story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious literary value. As a friend once said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or dreams."
With that in mind, know that this story is not true, although it is based on fact and some real events! Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. The sexual acts described in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
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"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have access to material intended for mature, responsible members of society capable of making decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."
The story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that requires payment either directly or indirectly.
Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. Reference is also made in context to movies, characters, and actors that have become part of modern western culture. No other implication about the true sexuality of the people mentioned or their private lives is intended.
Now that the preliminaries are out of the way.....
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The next morning we awoke almost at the same time, and lay side by side, listening to rain pounding onto the corrugated metal roof. There was no point in getting up. With nothing to do, I soon got bored. I hopped out of bed and scavenged through the piles of comic books looking for my favourites, Scrooge McDuck and his nephews. Bruce, as naked as I was, moved in close beside me and read over my shoulder. It was my job to turn the pages.
“Hey, you know what I think, Bunny?” Bruce announced.
“I think Scrooge gets it on with them.”
“Huh?” I was engrossed in the story of finding a lost civilisation so I wasn’t paying much attention at the time.
“I bet you he roots them when Donald’s not around.”
“You’re sick!” I grimaced at him.
“Which one do you reckon is his favourite? Huey, Dewey, or Louie?”
“None of them, because he’s not a pervert like you.”
Bruce groaned and pretended that I had hurt his feelings. It lasted less than a minute.
“Come on,…. Turn the page. I’m getting bored. There has to be some dirty bits in there somewhere,” Bruce said with a crude snigger.
“I’ve read it before and there’s not.”
“Maybe I should get one of By’s books.”
Bruce smirked and slid out of bed. He disappeared behind the fireplace, leaving me to keep reading the comic. I heard the door to Byron’s bedroom open. I heard Blaine’s muffled voice. Byron laughed. A few seconds Bruce hurried back to the converted couch that served as our bed.
“Man, you won’t believe how bad it smells in there.”
Bruce grinned. “Hey, Bunny, why do farts smell?”
“Huh? The chemicals are like rotten egg gas, I suppose?” I said in all seriousness.
“So deaf people can enjoy them too.”
We both laughed, my giggles assisted by Bruce's antics as he pretended to fart, smell it, then lose consciousness.
“You know with all this fucking rain, there’ll be no surfing today, at least for a while. Blainey and By won’t be up for it, that's for sure. Not for a few more hours anyway.”
Bruce smirked and pushed his finger back and forth inside his clenched left hand, simulating sex in a way that even I understood.
“Jesus!” I snorted, not wanting to believe he was probably right given what I had witnessed over the last few days.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting a bit of boy bum before breakky if you're in the mood for it,” Bruce replied smugly as he settled back next to me. “Hey, did you find any dirty bits yet in there?” He flipped at the Scrooge McDuck comic.
“You ought to take a gander at this one, mate,” Bruce said suggestively.
It was a thin magazine about the same size as a comic book. It was inside a plastic cover. I glimpsed the picture on the front and my heart started to hammer. Under the shiny plastic film, the cover featured a photograph of a boy with his back to the camera. His hands were on his hips. There was a glimpse of his face, side on. He seemed to be about my age, plus or minus a year. The thing that caught my attention was that he didn’t have any clothes on, unless cowboy boots counted. There was a five-pointed sheriff’s badge over his face, almost, but not quite covering it up. There was nothing to see, not really. The title of the magazine, ‘Cowboy Fun’ covered his bottom almost entirely. Beside the star was a sub title, ‘cowboys learn how to ride at an early age’.
Grinning, Bruce turned to the first page. My eyes boggled. I was looking at a naked boy. He was even younger than the boy on the cover, probably eight or nine years old. This time, he faced the camera. The only thing on his body was a toy pistol and holster. I stared, not really believing that such a thing was possible. In the background there were farming implements, what might have been an old plough. A few tools, a harness or two hanging from nails on the wood-planked wall, and some bits of metal that could have been anything at all. It was a lot like the barn at Brindajari, but it could have been a barn anywhere in the world. There was straw on the dirt floor and a few bales of yellow hay. For some reason, the naked boy did not look out of place. He was certainly having a good time given the big smile on his face. I stared, not believing that I was looking at a naked boy. He was,.... beautiful.
“Where?... Oh man,...” I breathed in. “Where did you get it from?”
“This? Actually, it’s one of By’s. He bought a bunch of them when he was in Bangkok last year. Pretty cool huh?”
“Yeah,….” I licked my lips. I had to make myself breath as I studied the little thing that peeked out from the boy’s groin. It was a lot smaller than mine. It was tiny, with a rounded bluish head and a barely visible pouch underneath. It was hard to tell if he had balls. I wanted to sigh. It was utterly wonderful. A delicious, naked young boy enjoying himself.
“It gets better, mate. Wait until they learn how to ride.”
Bruce almost choked with laughter. He held the magazine so I could read the text at the bottom of the page. It wasn’t very well written. There were even a few spelling mistakes, and the punctuation was enough to give my English teacher apoplexy. The gist of the story was that nine-year-old Timmy and his eleven-year-old brother, Ronny, were going on a cattle drive with their father and two other men. It was my first exposure to boy-porn, and I have never been the same since.
Bruce turned the page very slowly, as if realising what I was going through. By the time I had finished reading that first page and studying little Timmy’s anatomical perfection, I was hooked. I was breathing deeply, trying to slow my racing thoughts. I was afraid to stop looking in case Bruce took the booklet away. All I could think of was whether the rest of the booklet was the same as the first two pictures implied. If it was, I wasn’t at all sure that I could survive without my heart exploding. The Scrooge McDuck comic ended up on the floor as I stared and stared at the second picture. There were two photos actually, side by side images of the brothers in cowboy attire. They wore leather chaps, cowboy boots, checked blue and white shirts, and wide brimmed hats. No jeans. There were front and rear pictures of the boys standing up. One picture looked almost normal. The other photo, taken from behind them, showed their bare bottoms and the leather straps of the chaps behind their legs. It would have hurt like hell if they tried to ride a horse like that. I gulped and read the text, finding it difficult to do because my eyes kept darting back to their bottoms. They were pink and rounded and so inviting.
The story went on about how the boys liked to ride bareback with their father. There was little left to the imagination, at least not to a boy who had grown up on a sheep station. I liked to ride bareback myself. One of my favourite things to do at Brindajari was to ride my horse down to Callan Creek and swim in the ‘nud’. Afterwards, I used to ride, still stark naked, going without a saddle because it felt so much better to be bare on the back of a horse. There was a wonderful sense of freedom that came from doing it, my balls pressed into the horse’s withers, my legs clamped around the sides, holding the mane with one hand and the reins with the other. I wondered whether there would be photos of the boys riding bare. Little did I know what was in store for me! I had no idea what the story was alluding to when it claimed that ‘cowboys learn how to ride at an early age’.
The next page revealed that it was the heat of summer so the boys had to take off their shirts to cool down when they were doing their chores in the barn. It was pretty much a no-brainer. I did the same thing myself. Still, I enjoyed looking at the full page colour photo of the two bare-chested boys. They really didn’t look like farm-kids, at least none that I had ever seen. They were pale and soft looking, as if they’d never done a hard day's work in their lives. The text on the side of the page was a complete waste of time.
“You ready for more, mate?” Bruce asked huskily.
“Yeah.” I almost gasped when Bruce turned the page.
Did he realise what he was doing to me? Did he have any idea at all of the powerful effect that the magazine was having on me. Barely eleven years old and I was looking at a picture of two boys standing side by side. With erections! The chaps were unfastened, but they still held up about mid thigh by the next set of straps. Naked, hard boy-dicks stared me in the face. One was as large as my own, the other a lot smaller but equally precious, perhaps even more so. Finally, I gasped in air to replenish my oxygen-deprived lungs. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t have to touch my penis to know that it was just as hard as the ones in the picture in front of me. I could feel the skin tightly, uncomfortably straining, rubbing against the sheet. I was completely unable to think beyond the moment. I fed on the sight before with ravenous delight. I think I sighed once or twice.
“By said you’d probably like looking at it,” Bruce added teasingly. “Being from the country and all, you’d probably get into it.”
“It gets even better, mate,” Bruce said suggestively. “You want to keep reading or should I just turn the pages when you say to.”
“Um,… Whatever,… You turn them I guess,…”
He started to turn the page, but then he put it back again. He was teasing me again. I tried to grab his hand, but he jerked the magazine away.
“Okay, if you don’t want me to see it,… “ I grumbled. He did it again, giving me a momentary glimpse. “Geez. Just turn the stupid page, okay!”
Bruce smirked crudely and causally lifted the page back. The next page, the boys were squatting down to take off their brown leather chaps. The hats were gone. Their erections were pointing up. The older boy’s penis was a little bit shorter than mine, I decided. Like that, the younger boy was a lot smaller. I was lost for words. My mouth was dry. I swallowed again and again. I got a very similar thrill from looking at Blaine’s penis. There was something incredibly exciting about seeing another boy’s penis, especially when it was hard and standing up ready to play.
“Next page,” I panted hungrily.
He smirked again, holding the magazine in the air so I couldn’t see it. I dragged at his hand, pulling it down, making him laugh until he gave in and let me see. What a sight to behold. The boys were naked except for their boots. They were facing the camera and grinning, each holding his penis between a thumb and two fingers. It looked like they were wanking. In the background, there was a man leaning against the wall, watching the boys from behind. He was probably their father. I scanned the text for a moment and saw the word ‘father’ and ‘dad’ several times.
Bruce passed the magazine to me. “Here, you turn the pages for a while, Bunny.”
“What are you going to do?”
“My hand’s getting tired. I think it needs some exercise.”
I wasn’t thinking beyond the image in front of me, wondering what was going through the man’s head as he looked at the boys’ bare bottoms. I decided he probably didn’t know that his sons were wanking, otherwise he’d make them stop. What would he do when he found out? Or maybe he already knew and he liked what he was looking at? The very possibility send an awesome thrill through me. I readied myself to turn the next page, barely listening to Bruce.
“I was thinking about playing with your dick, you dummy, assuming you don’t mind that is?”
I shook my head slightly and then stopped. I was giving in without a fight. I wasn’t certain of what I should say or do. I wanted to keep looking at the last page. I wanted to see what was on the next page. My hands trembled as I held the booklet, not believing what I was doing, accepting that whatever Bruce wanted to do was going to happen so why even try to stop him. At that point, I was beyond caring whether I was a poofter, or worse. The magazine was something else. The urge to look at it seemed to overflow reason. Suddenly, I needed Bruce to touch me, to make me feel good. There were no preliminaries, no gentle caresses or playful tickles. He pulled the sheet down. His hand went straight to my groin, cupping over my extended penis and holding it tightly. I growled and he squeezed harder. It felt good, reassuring. I could not stop from trembling.
Somehow, I managed to turn the page. It felt like someone dumped a bag of concrete mix on my chest. I couldn’t breath. I just stared, forgetting about Bruce, forgetting about everything except what was exposed before me. There were several photos on the page, but the largest one was a close-up of the older boy’s penis being held in an adult’s hand. It had to be his father because the man’s fingers were grimy, with cracked fingernails and worn skin like a sheep shearer, or like someone who had toiled hard for many years. The contrast between soft, smooth, almost translucent skin and work-roughened skin made me shiver. I wanted to be the man who held the boy’s penis even if it meant having hands like that. After a few seconds, I began to giggle. It wasn’t funny. None of the pictures on the page were funny. They showed a sequence, from the man coming closer, taking the boys by their hands and leading them to the hay bales, then sitting them down. There was one boy placed on each hale. Hurriedly, I read the text. I had to know what was going on. The story made very little sense, something about getting the boys ready for the cattle drive, so I stopped reading after the first few lines.
By then, Bruce’s fingers were gliding gently up and down on my penis, squeezing the head tenderly. It was enough to make me groan aloud. When Bruce slid under the sheets, disappearing from sight, I realised immediately what he was going to do next. It wasn’t Blaine, but it was the next best thing. In an instant, my heart started thumping in my chest. Automatically, I shifted my knees apart, then went to crooking my left leg up to the side so there was no doubt that there was room for him to do anything he wanted, just so long as I could look at the magazine. His fingers played gently with my testicles. His head came closer. His warm breath grazed my thigh. His fingers moved higher, tickling along my penis.
“You are so fucking hard,” Bruce murmured from underneath the sheet.
He pulled my penis down and let it slap back against my tummy.
“Ouch. Hey, no doing that. It hurts.”
Bruce laughed and did it again. I didn’t complain. What was the point? He would do whatever he wanted and we both knew it. Besides, I was already looking at the next page. I didn’t believe what I was seeing. The oldest boy was lying back on the hay bale, his brother leaning closer to watch. His knees were wide apart and the man was kneeling down between them. It was very obvious what was going to happen next. As I felt Bruce’s lips smooch wetly along my penis, I groaned loudly. The same thing was happening on the page in front of me. In case there was any doubt, there were several different angles, all of them featuring the boy’s penis disappearing inside the man’s mouth. I had never seen anything like it. Seeing it happen was so very different to feeling Blaine do that to me in the cloak of night, or Bruce for that matter. I couldn’t think of anything else. My eyes went from one picture to another in an endless cycle.
“What page are you up to now, Bunny?” came Bruce’s muffled voice.
I felt him licking around between my thighs, his tongue swirling over my balls, pushing them around. His fingers were probing close to my bottom. I lifted my leg even higher, almost turning onto my side to give him access. If he wanted to stick his finger in my bum-hole, I wasn’t going to stop him.
“He’s doing it,… you know,… what you’re doing to me,” I managed to say.
As I fingered the corner of the page, ready to turn to the next page, I noticed that the paper was stained on the edges. It felt like it was almost glued to the next page. Then, as Bruce’s mouth slipped over my penis, his finger pushed at my opening. I stifled a gasp because it went straight inside. It was wet and slippery and it wriggled through my anus and kept going deeper and deeper into me. I stared and stared at how the man’s mouth seemed to devour the boy’s penis, imagining what came next. I could feel Bruce's finger wriggling around. It seemed as if it was right up inside me. All of a sudden, his finger pressed into something that made me shudder. I twitched, tightening, making myself relax, trying to resist the impulse to push his finger out. Gradually, the weird pressure faded.
Finally, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I tried to turn the page. They were stuck together. I managed to get the bottom edge lifted up far enough that I could get a sideways glimpse. It was getting increasingly difficult to concentrate, but I did make out what looked to be a repeat of the same series, except the angles were slightly different and boy’s penis was smaller. I wanted badly to see those photos of the younger boy and his father. I pried at the pages, breathing hard, but they weren’t going to come apart easily.
“Some of the pages are stuck together,” I complained.
Bruce stopped sucking my penis to answer. “Yeah, I know. Tell that to By ,why don’t you?”
“What is it?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.
“It’s spunk you drongo.”
“Gross. How did it get there?” I took my hand away, looking at my fingers.
“How do fucking think? He’s always wanking while he looks at them.”
“Yeah, really. So you like the pictures a lot, huh?”
“They’re neat,…. kind of,” I squeaked.
Bruce laughed and went back to sucking on my penis. I moved on to the next page, feeling relieved for a reason I didn’t understand. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t mind me looking at the magazine, or because he made it seem that there was nothing wrong with me looking at it. Either way, I felt much better. I lay back, content, barely aware that Bruce was enjoying himself as much as I was. His finger bored deeper and deeper into my bottom, coming free every so often. When it returned it seemed to be even wetter. I assumed he was putting it in his mouth, which should have been utterly disgusting to me, but it wasn’t. Each time he did it, it felt better.
The next few pages showed the boys hugging the man in various stages of undress. Then, finally, he was as naked as his sons. While his hair-covered parts didn’t excite me in the least, his pendulum-cock definitely had an effect on the two boys. There were several photos of the boys holding it in their hands or leaning over and kissing it. In each one it got bigger until it was finally stiff. Then, it was much bigger than Bruce’s, bigger than Byron’s too. It was not just a little longer, but quite a lot longer, as much as a few inches perhaps. There was even a photo of the two boys kissing it at the same time, one on either side, the over-sized phallus sticking out far beyond their foreheads.
It was then that I came to the end of the magazine. I felt cheated. There had to be more. My lust was racing ahead. I was piqued, pissed off in anyone’s language, and there was nothing I could do about. I turned the booklet over, and for the first time realised that the title read, “Cowboy Fun One”. The ‘one’ was very small, and printed in a colour that nearly matched the photo. On the back side of the magazine there was an advertisement for ‘Cowboy Fun Two’, promising ‘more to cum’ in the sequel. ‘Cum’ was just one more spelling mistake.
“Where’s part two?”
“The second part,… Where is it?” I demanded. I had to know. Maybe Byron didn’t have it in his collection, but maybe he did. And if he had it, I had to see it.
Bruce lifted off my penis again and laughed. “Ah, that’s what you want, huh? Hm… see,… the thing is, you have to earn it, Bunny.”
“I’ll let you have it under one condition.”
“You have to suck my cock.”
He playfully grabbed my penis and squeezed. “You randy little bugger. You need to see it so bad, don’t you? You’re going to have to make a deal to see it.”
“Bruce,…. Do I have to?” I whined.
“If you want to see Cowboy Fun Two, you do. It's even better than this one.”
It took me all of a few seconds to give in. My penis ached. It was throbbing. My bottom ached for more of his finger. My heart was thumping in my chest. I tried to say no. Instead, I gasped ‘yes’. I had to see the next magazine.
Almost as soon as the word left my mouth, Bruce began to move around, He pushed the sheet past my feet and began to rearrange us. I suppose I expected I would have to scoot down in the bed so I could put it in my mouth. Instead, Bruce pulled me further down and clambered over me. Suddenly, I realised what was going on. It was the same position that Blaine and Byron had used only the night before. Bruce hovered over me, using his elbows and knees to keep his weight off me. When I looked up, all I could see were his sex organs. His cock was fully erect and parallel to his belly. It defied gravity. From underneath, his balls were enormous. There was hair everywhere. It wasn’t what I wanted by a long shot, but I wanted to see the next booklet so badly that I took hold of it and closed my eyes.
While I thought about it, he kissed my penis and took it back into his mouth, slurping, licking, making me wetter and wetter, scooping up saliva with his fingers and bringing it back to my bottom. He rammed two of his fingers into my opening, twisting them and forcing in. I grunted, not in pain, but in shock. It felt wonderful. So full, so far in that something throbbed inside me. My buttocks jerked up and drove my penis deeper into his mouth. With his free hand he held my hips tightly, sucking hard. Then, I was jerked back again, yanking my penis out of his mouth, forcing his fingers even further into my bowels. Harder, deeper than before, and with a violent surge that made me groan. His testicles smacked against my cheek. I pushed him up and nervously brought the end of his cock down to my lips, fighting the disgust. There was a slightly sour smell, not at all like Blaine’s sweet sweaty smell.
“Suck it,” Bruce huffed.
“I’m trying to,” I protested. “It’s too big.”
“Kiss it.” His fingers rhythmically massaged my insides while his other hand cupped my testicles tightly.
“You want to see ‘Cowboy Fun Two’, don’t you?”
“I’m going to count to three and if my dick isn’t in your mouth, Bunny, you can forget seeing the other magazine.”
I hoped he was teasing. He probably was. He liked me too much to see my unhappy. However, it didn’t matter whether he was pretending or not. A deal was a deal. I had to do it.
I made it just in time. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. It tasted a lot like Blaine’s penis, I suppose. Warm, sort of sweet, strange in its own distinctive way. I wasn’t paying much attention to the taste. I was trying to stop myself from gagging, trying to open my mouth as wide as possible, feeling the spongy hot head pushing between my lips. It was huge. The head of Blaine’s penis was like putting a cherry in my mouth. Bruce’s cock was more like a plum. A very big plum. I stretched my lips, pushing against it. It wasn’t going to go in unless I pushed it in. I licked the head all over. It was soft, slick, salty, slimy. A barrage of sensations and tastes, all stronger than what I remembered from sucking Blaine’s penis. I kissed it once or twice while I tried to find the courage. Bruce groaned and went back to sucking on mine, to twisting his fingers inside my bottom. His hairy balls bounced against my nose again and again. The hair around his penis tickled my cheeks. I had to take my mouth away just to breath.
From underneath, I gazed up at it. There was hair all over his balls, wire-like brown hair with a tinge of red in it. It wasn’t very attractive. Even less attractive was the huge head of his cock. It was bloated and crimson-purple and the pores were very visible. The slit in the tip looked like it was big enough to put my finger in, not a pencil point dot like mine or Blaine’s. My hands moved slowly along Bruce’s cock as I tried not to think about it. It was covered with thick wormy veins. Hair extended up the first two inches. When I held it with one hand I realised it was going to be uncomfortable so I used one hand halfway over the other to make a tube. It was still an awkward thing to do. I repositioned my hands closer to the head and squeezed. A clear bead oozed through the gaping slit. I squeezed again, fascinated as the globule grew steadily larger. It wasn’t spunk and it wasn’t pee. Absently, my curious thumb rubbed into it. It was very slippery and even though there wasn’t very much of it, shiny slime soon covered the head of Bruce’s cock. Something suddenly became much clearer to me when I did that. Finally, I understood where the slipperiness came from whenever Bruce lay on top of me.
So there I was, laying on my back and feeling somewhat squashed with Bruce above me, trying to find the courage to actually put it in my mouth. Bruce started sucking on my testicles, dragging against the skin. I felt them go inside his mouth, and the wet soft warmth enveloped them in much the same manner as the night before. However, it only lasted for a few seconds before he lifted away and they were free again. He started sucking and licking on the skin below my scrotum, following it down between my thighs. Towards my bottom. Then, the impossible happened and I was too shocked to move. His hands slid underneath my buttocks and lifted me up, pulling my cheeks apart, still kissing and licking as he came nearer and nearer to my opening. Closer and closer, until I could feel his lips brushing against my anus. Then the soft melting heat of his tongue as it swirled around and around.
For a few moments all I could think of was it was dirty there. However, reason intervened. The last time I had been to the toilet was the previous morning. I had spent the entire day in the surf. More than likely it was spotlessly clean. And if I wasn’t, Bruce didn’t seem to care. His tongue pushed harder, making me squirm and try to push back against him. Bruce’s cock pushed down against my lips. I let my lips open against the underside, giving it a clumsy wet kiss, oblivious to everything else except the feelings that surged from my anus. If this was sex, I wanted more. Bruce forced his tongue deeper, stabbing erratically back and forth as I panted and writhed beneath him. My knees trembled as I strained and tensed in disbelief that anything could feel so good. It was so much better than a finger, either Bruce’s or mine, that I would never be the same. It wasn’t dirty, it was wonderful, incredible, overwhelming joy.
“Oh God! Don’t stop,” I groaned when Bruce lifted up. His cock came away from my mouth, finally allowing me to breath without getting hair in my nose.
“If you want more, then suck my dick properly,” he said coarsely.
I didn’t hesitate. I reached up and brought it down, pointed to my mouth. I opened wide, closed my eyes, tried not to think about what I was doing. I had to stretch wide, so wide that my jaws hurt to get the head past my lips. Then, suddenly, it was inside my mouth and I relaxed slightly because his shaft was a little bit thinner. My tongue kept out of the way. I held tightly onto the shaft because it wanted to push deeper. Then, the realisation struck home. I was sucking Bruce’s cock. Well, not really. It was in my mouth, but I really wasn’t sucking it. There was no room to do anything, but try my best not to bite it. Then, the slippery probing tongue returned between my cheeks and stuck deeply into my anus. His fingers pulled at the sides as he struggled to get even more inside me. It returned to stabbing back and forth, swirling around, his fingers kneading my testicles to pulp, or so it felt.
Bruce’s cock started to thrust between my hands, jabbing far enough into my mouth that I wanted it to stop. I gripped the shaft still tighter, trying my best to keep it from going further into me. His huge balls banged against my nose, dragged over my eyes, dangled on my cheeks and forehead. And always, there was the incredible sensation of his tongue slurping wetly, again and again pumping into my anus. His fingers poked in there as well, pulling it apart from the sides so his tongue could move around, or at least that was how it felt to me. Deeper and wetter, and my heart pounded because it kept getting better and better, except for his cock. It went further into my mouth until I choked and then I shoved against him as hard as I could. It came out quickly and he lifted away from me as I gasped under him.
“Are you okay?” Bruce asked anxiously. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
My throat hurt even through his cock hadn’t gone anywhere near that far inside my mouth. Worse, I felt cheated and angry, although I had no idea why I felt that way.
“I couldn’t breathe with that stupid thing stuck in my mouth.”
“You drongo. Breath through your nose next time. Don’t you know anything?”
“If there is a next time,” I grumped. “I don’t like it in my mouth, okay. It's too fucking big.”
Then, with the mood shattered because my tone of voice confirmed what I said in no uncertain terms, Bruce sat up. He ignored me, wiping his hand over his mouth. It was wet, as wet as it was between my buttocks. I didn’t need to look at him to realise that I had done something wrong.
“Man, I’m not doing that again,” I said hotly.
“Because it’s gross for one thing.” I made a sour face and shook my head. “It’s not worth it look at some dumb pictures,” I added meanly. “You owe me big time, Bruce.”
He smirked at me and made a sound with his mouth that sounded crude, like he was still sucking between my buttocks. I glared at him, but he kept smirking.
“Are you going to tell me you didn’t like getting a tongue in your arse?”
“No way!” I said crossly. “It’s gross too.”
I knew I was being unreasonable, but I was upset. In truth, I didn’t like doing it, not only because of all the hair but because of the sheer size of it. More than that, my mouth felt violated. My bottom felt like it was on fire as well. I felt empty. I wanted to stick my finger in my bottom and itch like crazy. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what I wanted, beyond the chance to be with Blaine and do the same things again with him I felt utterly abandoned, as lonely as I had ever been. Until then, I had not really appreciated how much I wanted to be with him.
“Where’s the magazine?” I demanded.
“You said if I sucked you,…”
“Yeah, okay. A deal's a deal, isn't it? So go get it.”
“Where is it?” I asked, knowing full well where ‘Cowboy Fun One’ came from.
“In the bedroom.”
“Will you get it for me?”
For some reason, I didn’t like the idea of going into Byron’s bedroom by myself, even if Blaine was in there with him. Maybe, it was because Blaine was in there that was the problem.
“No way.” Bruce smiled. “I think I’ll just lie here and wank for a while. I have to do something to make up for what you didn’t do,” he added cruelly. “I wasn’t going to spunk in your mouth, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“Go get your magazine, Bunny.”
I was close to begging. I had to see the magazine, but I couldn’t go in there alone. I was so jealous of Byron and Blaine that I couldn't think straight. And then, there was the awful excitement because even more than that dog-eared pamphlet, I wanted to see what Blaine did with Byron,…. just not by myself. I shook my head vigourously.
“Will you come with me, Bruce? Please?”
Bruce shook his head back at me. It was all part of his game, and I was the pawn who had been seduced by porn. He lay there, gleefully getting his way once again. He was all but oblivious to my embarrassment, or perhaps relishing it because he kept smirking.
“Don’t be a dope. By’s not going to bite you, mate. He likes you too much. He might bite your dick if he gets the chance, but that’s all.”
It was clear that he wasn’t about to get out of bed. I got up from the couch and meandered around the central fireplace and towards the bedroom. My slow pace was intended to give Bruce time to chance his mind. I reached the door and hesitated.
“Don’t be a scaredy-cat, Bunno,” Bruce called out. “Just go right on in. They won’t care. They're used to me going in there all the time.”
I opened the door. It wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even properly closed. I heard them even before I stepped inside the room. It was a sound I would never forget. A strange sound that reminded me of paint being sloshed around in a bucket or slapped haphazardly on a wall. Slap, slap, slap. Slow, erratic, sloppy sounds. I took a few steps closer. Blaine was lying on his back with one leg lifted up and draped over Byron’s hip. Byron was lying on his side, pressed tightly up against Blaine, gripping his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other. Blaine’s other leg was bent to the side. It didn’t look like a very comfortable position, particularly when his chest was sloping down. Then, I saw the pillows that were under his back so that he was lifted higher. It explained why his belly and chest were higher than his head, but not more than that. From where I stood, I could see one of Blaine’s arms crooked behind his head. His other arm rested on Byron’s shoulder. However, it was his expression that took me by surprise. For a few moments I thought he was in agony. His face was contorted, eyes closed, jaw clenched, lips peeled back. It looked as if he was being terribly hurt. And the sound that Blaine made, somewhere between a groan and a whine that came out as ‘nnnggghhhhh’. He gasped loudly each time that Byron shoved against him.
Even as I watched, Byron slowly backed away. His thick engorged cock appeared an inch at a time. It was dark, shiny, wet and slimy, and huge. Seeing them have sex was frightening, even though I’d seen lots of sheep and horses having sex. Further and further, pulling that huge stake out of Blaine’s bowels until I could see the broad dark rim. Then, without warning, Byron lurched forward again and it disappeared inside Blaine. Both of them pushing, driving it in deeply, smoothly, forcefully. Blaine groaned and said something in a incoherent gasp. Byron looked over his shoulder at me. He smiled slightly, holding his position deep inside Blaine.
“Hey, Allan,… So what did you think of my cowboy magazine? Sexy huh?”
My face flushed, shameful, hesitating to say more, but realising that he could read my thoughts as clearly as if had spoken them aloud. He understood what was going through my mind.
“It’s okay, mate. This is nothing you need to worry about. I promise I’m not hurting him. You want to see the next one, don't you? It's even better that number one.”
I gave a feeble shrug. Blaine’s eyes were open again. He looked at me, waiting for me to say something.
“So what do you reckon about this, mate?” Byron husked.
He backed away again so that his cock eased out of Blaine’s body again. All the way out this time. The swollen dark head popped out suddenly, loudly, and stayed like a plum lodged between Blaine’s small buttocks.
“Pretty big, huh?” Byron said proudly.
I nodded ineffectually, staring long and hard at that symbol of male power as it nestled comfortably between Blaine’s shiny, slippery buttocks.
“He likes it when I do this real slow, Allan,” Byron panted.
Again, he pushed forward and the huge knob made Blaine’s crack push in an inch or more before it popped through the opening. It seemed like it should have hurt terribly, yet Blaine barely noticed it. This time, Byron didn’t push it all the way inside. Instead, after pushing in a few inches, he pulled out again. He gave a tug at the end to jerk the head through. There was another loud pop. This time, showing off to me, he directed his cock to the side and used his hand to lift Blaine’s cheek to the side so I could see where it had been. Blaine’s reddened anus gaped open. I stared, amazed.
“Now, that’s what you call a bum-hole,” Byron joked.
“Doesn’t it hurt when it’s that big?” I asked apprehensively.
“Nope. You know why, don’t you?”
“Because I’ve been doing him now for close to an hour, that’s why. Plus after a year of this Blainey’s used to being rooted by now, mate.”
“Yeah, nearly. This is his second time around the track this morning, that’s why it’s so messy.”
My expression conveyed what I was thinking as I watched Byron prod Blaine’s reddened opening with the engorged head of his cock. There seemed to be no way for it to go through the small aperture.
“Trust me, he likes it, Allan. He likes it a lot, just like you will after Bruce’s done it to you a couple of times. You’ll get used to it real fast, guaranteed.”
As the words churned through my mind, I watched Byron’s cock slide back in again. He barely pushed. In went in very easily, all the way in until the only thing I could see was Byron’s thick dark hair cushioned against Blaine’s sun-tanned cheeks. Then, they rested for a while before they started again, both doing it energetically, as much for my benefit as for their own. That was how I would always remember the first time I saw Byron and Blaine having sex. They wanted me to see them having sex.
In truth, it was not at all what I expected. Until then, I thought sex was something to be ashamed of. They should have been ashamed, but they weren’t. It was obvious they both enjoyed doing it. I watched for a couple of minutes I suppose. The sound was more than anything else stayed with me. It unforgettable and unlike anything I had ever heard. It was the sound of two people who were accustomed to euphoria. So wet, so succulent, so incredibly effortless, the sound of something sucking back and forth, intermingled with groans and gasps, and Blaine’s seemingly endless whimper. And through all of it, the thing inside my best friend’s body moved with a relentless but erratic back and forth motion, getting faster and faster. Blaine’s legs jerked around as if he had no control over them, his hands clenching handfuls of sheet, his expression disconcerting in its intensity. Whatever he was feeling, it seemed to come in waves of panic, and something else that I didn’t recognize, but which seemed to convey he was incredibly happy.
Finally, I couldn’t stand to watch them any longer. Even the smell was overpowering. I backed away a step at a time, reluctantly, although part of me wanted to turn and run. I was angry, hating Byron and Bruce, myself, even Blaine, because he was having sex with Byron and not with me, and I loved him so much that it hurt. I would never forget the awful feeling of being deserted by the boy who I loved.
Even though there were increasingly frequent breaks in the clouds over the ocean, the rain came down steadily. It hammered down onto the corrugated iron roof for more than an hour that morning, drowning out speech from any further than a few feet away. At times, it was difficult to see the car parked outside as huge raindrops splattered onto it. And yet, there was something reassuring about the rain, bringing back memories of thunderstorms that brought much needed rain to Brindajari, watching the red dust turn into mud.
With everything soaked outside the shack, there was no morning fire to cook breakfast with. There was no electricity either. According to Byron it was probably because of the wires getting wet, or more likely a branch falling down and breaking the lines somewhere on the hillside. We breakfasted on corn flakes and condensed milk that tasted sweet and syrupy, looking at comics as we ate. All of us sitting naked, totally shameless, because there were no secrets any longer. I had finally seen what I was supposed to see. I was part of the 'family'.
Beyond saying ‘hi’ to me in a much-subdued voice after he emerged from the bedroom, Blaine bashfully acknowledged my loss of innocence with an occasional knowing smile. Nothing else was said about what had happened in the bedroom. I hungered to get him alone so that we could talk. I had to know more. I wanted to know what if felt like, how long they had been doing it, how often they did. A thousand questions needing answers.
Again and again, my thoughts returned to what I had witnessed only a short time earlier. That thick, crimson stake of flesh pumping in and out of my best friend’s body, suctioning loudly on the out-stroke, pausing for a moment before disappearing from sight. The details of what I had seen grew even stronger the more that I thought about it. Blaine’s penis was completely limp throughout the few minutes that I watched. It was shrivelled up, so very unusual for him because whenever Blaine and I did sex stuff, his erection was as close to being rigid as it was humanly possible to get. At the same time, Blaine’s testicles were knotted up and smaller than I could remember seeing them, and if that wasn’t enough, they were covered with slimy grease. It was all so clear in my mind that it was like looking at a photograph. Blaine’s buttocks were normally pinched in like mine were, but where Byron’s penis penetrated him, they bulged out as if to make room. And Byron’s cock, so thick and veiny, glistening with oil and slimy as well. Throbbing, bloated and dark red, straining, especially when it reappeared after going in a long way. I didn’t say very much during breakfast, but then the noise of the drumming rain prevented normal conversation.
Eventually, Byron stood up and walked over the window. He surveyed the dismal scene outside. I got the impression that he wasn’t going to mention what I witnessed in the bedroom unless I brought the subject up. It wasn’t like it had never happened. Rather, it was taken for granted. Sooner or later I had to know, and now I knew.
“It might be Christmas Eve, but it’s going to be a real crappy day for surfing, I’m afraid,” he announced.
Until then, as strange as it might sound for an eleven-year-old boy, I'd forgotten about Christmas. I perked up immediately, thinking of the large suitcase that was still unopened in Byron's bedroom. There were definitely going to be a few presents in there for me.
“Even if the rain stops by lunch, the waves will be so damned flat it won’t worth the effort of carrying the boards down,” Byron continued.
“So what’s the plan?” Bruce asked. “Maybe we could drive into Coff’s for a while?”
“That's pretty much what I'm thinking. It'd be a waste of fucking time going in tomorrow. It'll be locked up tight like a virgin's twat, but the shops will be open till 5.00 today. The thing is, we need to get some food for the holiday. I'm almost out of beer too.”
“So we grab the Esky (cooler) and head out?”
“It’s too wet to get up the hill right now,” Byron answered. “I’m not even trying until it’s dried up a bit. We might be able to do it around lunch if the rain holds off for a few hours. Until then I think I might as well spend the fucking time in bed,” he added crudely. Then, after a quick glance at me, he laughed. “Or maybe I ought to say spend the time fucking in bed.”
Again he glanced at me, but this time he got no response because I kept my head down and concentrated on my corn flakes. Every time he spoke to me it made me feel weird. Increasingly, it seemed as if he liked me as much as he liked Blaine.
“Hey Allan, you're from the country, aren't you mate? Why do shepherd's wear robes? This isn't a Christmas joke by the way.”
I shrugged absently, stealing a glimpse to see him smiling at me.
“Because sheep can hear zippers a mile away.”
I shrugged again, not caring that Bruce laughed loudly. Blaine giggled.
“How about it bum-chum? You feel like another rooty-tooty after breakky, or would you rather play with Cuddlepie for a while?” he asked Blaine.
Truthfully, I really wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation until then. The Scrooge McDuck comic I was reading at the time was still the ultimate diversion for me, even with Christmas one day away. Maybe it was the idea of a rich old man, a goof-ball of an uncle and three cute boys, even if they were ducks that amused me. I wondered whether Bruce's observation was correct. Was Scrooge a pervert? It was an amusing idea.
Blaine moved his head, raising his eyes slightly to glance at me. It was impossible whether he intended a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Maybe it was neither, or maybe he was trying to tell me something. I turned away, still resenting that Blaine chose to have sex with Byron instead of me. Worse, having seen how to do it properly, I wanted to do that to Blaine myself. Just the thought of putting my penis inside Blaine’s bottom sent a powerful surge through me. Then, Blaine grinned up at Byron and nodded towards the open bedroom door. My spirits sank lower.
“Allan will be happy all day if you give him a couple of your perv magazines to look at,” Bruce quipped.
I glowered at him. He was right, of course, but I couldn't help feeling ashamed that the magazines had such a powerful effect on me that they could entertain me for the rest of the day. The only problem was that I wouldn't be with Blaine. Almost as if he read my mind, Blaine snickered loudly.
“Yeah. He’ll probably wank himself silly with them,” Byron joked. “He’d better start using Brylcream before much longer. Like they say, a little dab will do ‘ya’.”
The three of them laughed. I really didn’t understand what was funny about Brylcream (a men’s hair-care product renowned for its greasy properties and rapidly going out of fashion in 1968). Byron noticed that I wasn’t participating in the humour of the moment. He stepped back from the window, watching me intently.
“You know something? Jokes aside, I think maybe it’s time old Allan learned about the many uses of Brylcream, mates. What do you reckon?”
Unsuspecting, I stayed where I was, flipping comic pages. I was barely aware that Byron went into the bedroom, even less aware when he came out. Suddenly, a couple of magazines dropped onto the table in front of me. In an instant, I took them in and my heart began to race. There was issue two of Cowboy Fun, peeking out from the bottom of the pile. The magazine on top was titled ‘Chums’ and featured a curly -headed naked boy standing among some bushes, beckoning to the camera. Below that, was a magazine whose title was in Japanese or Chinese characters, but the colour photograph of an Asian boy’s face, his lips enclosing another boy’s erect dark-skinned penis left no doubt as to its meaning and what would be discovered beyond the cover. The rest of the magazines I couldn't see.
No one said a word. I stared at the magazines, focusing on the ‘Chums’ boy and trying to decide if his penis was bigger or smaller than mine, which was difficult because there were some leaves in the way. I couldn’t stop myself. After a few seconds, I managed to push them aside, doing my best to pretend that they were in the way of my comic book. However, my effort to demonstrate apathy proved even more distracting because in doing so I positioned the magazines so that they were fanned out on the table. I wanted so badly to pick up Cowboy Fun Two now that it was fully visible to my excited eyes. The cover alone was very appealing. This time the two brothers were naked and bending over towards the camera. Their father stood behind them with his hands on their bottoms. The subtitle announced, ‘ride ‘em cowboy’. I fancied I could see the older boy's anus. Perhaps it was my imagination. My chest felt tight.
“Now, now. There’s nothing to get uptight about, Allan,” Byron purred from behind me. “Not after what you saw Blainey and me doing earlier. It’s about time you found out how much fun sex can be. You need to start thinking about yourself instead of what your grandmother would say.”
His smarmy voice got my immediate attention. It was also true, in part if not in its entirety. I swivelled around, looking up at him. He smirked down at me. Then, I saw what he held in his other hand. It was a big jar of Brylcream. He reached down and picked up the magazines from the table.
“If you want to look at them, Allan, there’s a price.”
“What?” I blurted out.
“It sounds like you're interested that's for sure. Okay, then. This morning old Brucie’s going to start teaching you the many uses of Brylcream. He’ll be giving you your first lesson on the couch I expect,” Byron continued, smirking directly at me.
He turned and deliberately handed the magazines and the jar to Bruce with a barely audible admonition, ‘go easy on him’. Then, he walked back into the bedroom. Blaine giggled, got up from his chair and followed obediently. The door closed behind him. I heard Blaine shriek, then laugh. Then, silence. Bruce looked shrewdly at me, holding the magazines out for me to see them. Cowboy Two was the one on top. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to die.
“Your choice, Bunny,” he said quietly. “You can stay in here and read Scrooge McFuck or perv at some of By’s best boy mags on the couch with me? There's some great fuck pics in Cowboy Two, you know. The others have got some too.”
The ‘f’ word rang in my ears. Bruce said ‘fuck’! That was what I had seen Byron doing to Blaine. That was what was in the magazines. 'Fuck pics'. Byron had picked them out deliberately. I felt my temperature rising with the blood in my face. I was rapidly becoming hotter, and my penis was getting harder. Awfully, painfully, hard. I was being consumed by unrelenting, overpowering excitement. I tried to hide it under the table. I did my best. I really did. I even tried ignoring the obvious thrill I got from looking at the magazines. Nothing worked.
Bruce ambled off, taking his time going into the adjoining room. I heard the couch springs complain when he flopped down. I could feel my heart thumping inside my chest. There was a throbbing ache between my thighs, my penis standing up and begging to be touched, straining insistently, as stretched out and skin-tight as I had ever seen it. I clenched my fists, resisting the need to see what was inside the magazines, fighting back with all my will-power. It was a wasted effort. I lasted only a few seconds. I followed Bruce without protest.
He was waiting for me on the couch, grinning, obviously happy about my decision to join him. He patted the side nearest to the window. I sat down, gazing outside as raindrops from the roof edge splattered onto the deck. I could barely make out the shoreline, and the distant headland was completely obscured in misty rain.
“Just lie back and relax, Bunny,” Bruce said quietly. “Think of it as an early Christmas pressie.”
His hand stroked my back. I didn’t move. I didn't breath.
“What’s wrong mate?”
“Nothing,” I muttered tensely.
“There’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”
“I’m not ashamed,” I retorted hastily.
Bruce sighed. “You’re not the only one who likes looking at these magazines, you know.”
“It’s,….” I tried to find the right word. “…. sick.”
“They're Bruce's but Blainey looks at them too.”
“Yeah. Looking at guys have sex is nothing, it doesn’t mean shit, Allan, despite what you might think.”
His hand moved to my shoulder and he pulled me back so I lay down next to him. He opened a magazine in front of me, held it there a foot from my face where I would have had to close my eyes not to see it. Cowboy Fun Two. It was the middle of the magazine. Most of the two-page spread was given over to a picture of the oldest boy lying on his back. His father’s cock was buried to the hilt. The boy’s face reminded me of Blaine’s expression when Byron was fucking him. Intent yet dreamy, barely cognisant of the world around him, the face of ecstasy. That was the word I was looking for. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to inhale.
“Oh wow,” was all I could say.
‘Oh wow’ was right, because there was an insert in one corner showing the man’s engorged cock before it went in. It was as long and thick as a boy’s forearm.
“Ouch, more like,” Bruce said. “Man, a dong that big must hurt something awful until you got used to it,” he added quietly.
“Is it really his father?” I asked awkwardly. “A father wouldn't do that with his son, would he?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “It depends on the father, mate,” he said after a while.
The morning of Christmas Eve, 1968, as the rain turned to drizzle, Allan James Harding got his first dose of truly hardcore pornography from the centre-fold of Cowboy Fun Two. Even to this day, I still wonder whether the photograph was real. There are very few men who have nine or ten-inch tools, but the possibility of putting something so large inside an eleven-year-old boy’s bum is,… well, after a lifetime of loving boys it still defies common sense, if not impossibility.
I was speechless for a long time. The few words of text on the bottom of the page said that ‘Ronny loves it deep’, but it didn’t seem possible.
“You turn the pages when you want to,” Bruce said distantly.
He handed me the magazine, then reached to pick up the jar of Brylcream. The lid snapped off. His finger swiped into the white, aromatic cream, extracting a large glob.
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see,” Bruce answered distantly. “Don't worry mate. You'll love it.”
He smeared the cream over his fingers and the palm of his hand. Then, he told hold of my hard penis and gave it a friendly tug. His hand moved around, fondling and transferring most of the greasy lotion to my penis and testicles. He gave my penis a few tentative up and down strokes, his fingers sliding easily over lubricated skin. I squirmed underneath him, not believing how nice it felt. It was a lot like being inside his mouth. Slippery, sliding, sending a tantalising thrill through me. In an instant, my knees dropped to the couch, spreading wide apart, exposing myself wantonly. When boys do that, they're willing.
His fingers vibrated, then began a slow up and down motion. I stiffened as his motion became faster and then relaxed when he slowed down. His thumb swirled over the head, squeezing, then rolling it between his finger and thumb. His little finger extended down, pressing into my scrotum to massage my balls. I could not help but lift my hips up, pushing hard into his hand. I opened the magazine at a random page. The text explained what was happening before I realised what I was looking at. ‘Ronny the bronco buster is helped onto his steed by his little brother. Timmy is eager for his turn’. The father was lying on his back in the straw and Ronny was squatting over his groin. His younger brother was kneeling beside him. His hands were held a few inches apart, showing what the camera could not see.
“Geez,” I murmured.
“Yeah, geez is right,” Bruce said in an urgent voice. “It's hot at hell, but it gets even better, mate. A lot better.”
By then, his hand was tugging on my penis, pulling hard on the skin with abrupt jerks. Previously, I would never have enjoyed having my penis rubbed in that fashion. Rather, I would have been telling him to stop because it hurt, but the oily slickness prevented any burning sensation. In fact, it felt so good that all I could do was to lie there with my mouth half open, gasping and trying not to groan. It kept getting better and better, until I was twitching uncontrollably every few seconds. It was all that I could do to turn the pages every so often. One picture followed another, and as Bruce said, it only got better. The next photograph was taken from behind the boy’s back. If I harboured any doubts as to what Timmy’s hands were indicating, they were immediately shattered. I swallowed, still not wanting to believe what I was seeing. The man’s penis was pulled out and the boy’s anus was clearly visible. It was red-raw, painfully distended, and something creamy-white was dribbling out. Even for the mid 1970s, when pornographic magazines proliferated in sex-shops in Kings Cross, the magazine would have been considered depraved. For an eleven-year-old boy in 1968, it was life-changing. I gazed, dumbfounded, not really believing, or perhaps not wanting to believe what I was seeing.
“The white stuff is spunk, mate,” Bruce explained pointedly, in case I needed more corroboration of what was supposed to have happened.
For a few moments I calmed down. Maybe it was the shock of seeing a boy’s wide open anus, so unlike the tiny taut opening that I was familiar with. I was also dismayed, which probably came from realising that what the magazine showed was no different to what Byron did to Blaine when they had sex. I had not seen Byron's penis come out afterwards, but it would be no different. At breakfast, his spunk had been inside Blaine. Maybe some even ran out while he was sitting across the table from me. Maybe it was still there, a little puddle on the seat. Even as I rejected the idea as being too disgusting, I could not stop looking at the magazine. All the while, Bruce kept stroking, playing my body in a manner that kept my orgasm just moments away.
“Gross,” was all I could manage to say.
My face felt like it was on fire. I felt strange inside, consumed by an awful rush that made my stomach flutter. Not sickened, not by a long shot, but panicked by the very possibility.
“Yeah,…” Bruce said in a hushed voice. He paused, licking his lips, his voice seemed to be tense. Suddenly, his body gave an excited tremble.
“It really doesn’t hurt all that much, you know, Bunno,” he added.
It was obvious what he was talking about. Who was he trying to convince? By then, it was no secret that he wanted to do that to me. I wasn’t at all certain that I wanted him to do it. Maybe it didn't hurt, but so what.
“It’s just so big,” I murmured.
“Yeah, it’s big, but it doesn't matter. See, it only hurts while your bum hole’s tight. It's only tight for a while though, because it gets stretched.”
remembered Blaine's anus, gaping open where Byron's penis had been a
“So you end up with a big arse hole,” I said sarcastically. “Great!”
Bruce chuckled. “Only for a while. Once it's out it closes up again. It goes back to normal pretty quickly, you know,… I mean when it’s out and all.”
I kept staring, trying to decide if it was how long Blaine looked like that after Byron was done having sex with him. Less than an hour earlier I had watched them having sex, but I hadn’t seen what happened when they were finished. That thought made me shiver. I pictured Blaine, stretched so wide that you could see inside him, Bruce's spunk dribbling out onto the sheets. To make matters worse, in the picture before me there were gobs of white, splatters and streaks of it everywhere. The next page, a close-up, made me tremble. The crimson hole gaped open, revealing a dark tube disappearing inside the boy, and a lot of yellow-white fluid drooling out.
“Oh man,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” Bruce agreed.
His hand was rubbing rapidly by then, torturing my aching organ. I wanted to yell out for him to stop, but I knew better than that. I was too close to stop, and besides it really wasn’t hurting. The torture came from feeling good, rather than from feeling bad. Suddenly, my pelvis lifted up and I strained against his hand. My penis jerked again and again of its own volition. For the first time in life, I totally lost control. I quivered and shuddered, sinking back into the couch for a moment before the second wave of jerks came. The magazine was a blur of creamy bare skin, of a man’s tumescent organ. A contorted disbelieving face. It was powerful stuff. Bruce's hand kept going, endlessly pumping, going rapidly up and down. I gasped, feeling the prepubescent agony of a second long dry emission, even closing my eyes when the feelings became too wonderful. Focusing was nearly impossible. All I saw were glimpses of the magazine as my head bounced from side to side. There were gobs of white caught in the man’s pubic hair. His penis was limp and slimy. I slumped back into the couch, groaning and writhing and shoving forcefully at Bruce’s hand to get him to stop. I wanted to promise myself that I would never look at Byron's magazines again, yet I knew it was simply a matter of time before I succumbed. I would do whatever Bruce asked of me to look at them again.